The shade hid the huntress , as she drew her bow, her hood hiding the dark red of her hair, as she lined the arrow in her sights, waiting for her squad to bring the target into her sights. Soon the thundering sound of hooves alerted her to the sound of her target coming to her.The silence of her teammates urging the massive leviathon onward toward her but still she remained still..waiting .. waiting.. THERE! She lets loose the arrow,and watches as it speeds it way to its target. There is a large thunk as the arrow hits the mammoth in the eye, and drives straight into it’s brain., stopping it in it’s tracks. Dropping to it’s knees, the mammoth skids a few feet before coming to a halt , dead as the hunters surround it.
Rising to her feet , she quickly and quietly runs over to her companions , who give her a thumbs up, as they surround the corpse of the massive bull mammoth, before they part before their leader as she kneels down beside the dead animal. Taking a sharp knife,she offers a quick prayer to the spirit of the slain, she cuts open the jugular vein, and jumping out of the way, as the crimson fluid spurts out. Laughing softly , one of the hunters, hands her a crudely shaped vessel, which she presses against the jugular vein, and filling it to the brim,with the precious fluid, she brings it to her lips ,and drinks before handing it to the nearest hunter, and watches as it gets passed around. It was a ritual they shared.. to honor and thank the mammoth for it’s sacrifice. The small company of elves, had long since put aside civilization,and became one with the land. Comprised mainly of hunters ,and rogues, they had overcome the odds, since they were brought to this harsh land by the Archmage, to save them from Kael’thas’ madness. They were the lost children taken from their parents, while they were in the concentration camps, put there by their so called allies.
They had been trained in the art of survival , first in the harsh environments of Outland then moving onto the frigid climes of Northrend ,as the Horde ,and the Argent Crusade,pursued Arthas into the frozen heart of Icecrown itself, the Lichking’s lair.The harsh climes ,and the training hardened them , and made them into a cohesive unit, as well as a very efficient one. However the land changed them.. their already fragile ties to their past lives were broken, swept away ,and they formed new bonds amongst each other. They became less civilized, much to their patron’s dismay.. though they listened. to him .. they were more like the worgs that wandered the tundra, wild , unruly ..untamed. They were Sin’dorei.. but they were nothing like the haughty, arrogant creatures that strutted the avenues of Silvermoon, reveling in their own self importance. Dressed in furs,and heavy leather, they hunted as a pack, slept as a pack,and followed pack rules , following a fiery haired huntress whom the Archmage looked upon as a daughter. Nightheart was her name, and to cross her was to hasten one’s own end.
When they returned to the camp at Sunreaver’s Rest, their green eyes glowing in the falling light, as dusk began to fall, those not familiar with their ways, felt a cold shudder slide down their spines as they watched the small troupe enter the camp ,laden with meat, their faces stained still with the blood of their victim. Depositing the meat at the feet of the camp commander, the huntress watched with hooded eyes as he regards her company with obvious distaste even as he welcomes the meat they brought . These… creatures.. they surely could not be Sin’dorei… it simply could not be believed that some would let themselves fall so far … it was almost as bad as becoming the Wretched.. these were little more than savages.. eating their meat raw.. as far as the commander was concerned, they had regressed ..into wild beasts.
Watching his eyes, the huntress known as Nightheart growled … this commander feared her.. feared her pack..He thought of them as nothing more than wild animals, but no one else brought in as much meat as they did.. simply by watching the predators hunt, and learning how they worked together as a pack. She also noted the way he watched her..his eyes clinging to her hips and bust in almost a lascivious manner, though he thought her a savage.. it didn’t stop him from lusting after her like a male sabretooth after a female in heat. It was only the threat of the Archmage’s wrath, should anyone tamper with her, or her pack, that deterred him.
Nodding curtly at her , he dismissed her ,and her pack , before giving out orders to have the meat prepared and distributed among the troops. She nodded,and went to join her pack, feeling his eyes upon her, boring into her back.Reaching her tent, she swept aside the flap and went inside , and dropped the flap, greeting her pack. The worgs that shared their tent, barked and yipped, around her, like puppies. The tent was large, large enough to accomodate the small pack and their companions, the huge worgs that often fought beside them. A few of her pack members , had already cleaned themselves,up ,and were already curled up together under the furs. The giggling, and soft gasps , only gave hint of what was happening beneath the covers; the rest of the pack , merely went on with whatever they were doing. Nightheart, dropped into a pile of furs ,and began stripping off her heavy furs, revealing a light shirt underneath, and muscled shoulders, along with toned arms ,honed from years of using the bow. Undoing the tight braid, that held her hair in place, she grabbed a brush ,and dragged it through the heavy red mass that looked like crushed rubies in the firelight.
” He looks at you, with hunger in his eyes.. like a worg. He doesn’t like us .. doesn’t like our ways..”
A masculine voice sounds in her mind,and she replies in kind..unlike the Sin’dorei of the south.. her pack learned by accident , how to speak mind to mind.. a gift they jealously guarded amongst themselves.. it was their secret means of communication..
“I know..he wants what he can never have..he doesn’t respect our ways.. he is too soft ”
” Give us the word.. we can kill him.. make it look like an accident ..”
” No… kill him. and another will take his place..possibly someone worse..”
” What do we do then? He will not stop until we are dead.. our sisters cannot go on , while carrying pups “
” We wait.. the time will come. and we will seize it.. I will not risk our young, nor our lifebearers in a power struggle .. he needs us more than we need him..without us .. they will die “
” Very well then.. but we will watch him.. I don’t trust him.. nor these orcs.. especially not near the pups “
” Agreed.. set up watches, and make certain our lifebearers and our pups are never left alone .. though I hate to cut our numbers down. we can’t afford to lose our young.. we are too few as it is “
A look of understanding passed between her ,and her second in command, a feral looking rogue with green gold eyes,and midnight black hair ,caught up in a foxtail. She looked to the center of the communal tent.. they needed a more secure den.. this was too vulnerable..too easy to breach.. their young were not safe here . Even though they had the large worgs , guarding the tent , the cold winds, sweeping down from Stormpeaks ,would often raise the flaps of the tents, sending blasts of icy air into the flimsy shelters, chilling the occupants inside. The new babes often were kept bundled between their parents,and the other adults,who clung to each other for warmth forsaking propriety for survival.It was a harsh way of life but it weeded out the weak from the strong, those who didn’t survive. succumbed. The newborns were particularly protected from the harsh weather, their very lives dependant on their pack. Nightheart, did not have pups of her own but each pup was precious ,and she regarded the pack as her family. She did not remember much of her own family.. only that she had one… once upon a time.That time was gone.. this was her family now.. she was the Alpha female, the packleader of this small motley troop that looked to her for survival.She would not let them down.