The First Step into Mulgore

[Tuhka]

She was weary of the endless sea of gold and brown that colored the landscape. The persistent sun jabbed at her back and neck like hundreds of dull needles. She was hot, dusty, and tired from her migration south. The lingering surroundings of the Barrens were becoming unbearable for the huntress. Up until a day ago, the dry lands had been but a distant memory...a brief moment obscured by the mist of time and an underdeveloped perception. The Barrens were merely a fuzzy brown spot in her infancy before she was whisked away into the lush forests of the Kaldorei.

She sprinted across the bridge spanning a small ravine, looking back to make sure that Poli was keeping up. She smirked at the flutter of blue behind her and turned back to the path ahead. I hope that greenskin at the break of the forest had given me the right directions. This path is longer than I had expected. Regardless of her mistrust towards the foreigner, she was thankful to have found a post along the path where she could unload the contents of her herb pouch. Her prolonged stay in the "Crossroads" gave her some time to jog her memory of Taurahe, and become a bit more familiar with Orcish. The rugged tongue of the greenskins stuck out in sharp contrast to the more eloquent Darnassian that she had become accustomed to, but this made it easier for her to memorize. A particularly boozed-up greenskin provided her with a rather awkward dialogue that she replayed in her mind to alleviate the monotonous brush that dominated her vision of the Barrens. "Bull, gib me dat bottul tingee. Me wantz drinkee."

It was pleasant to see some of her kind in the settlement, but she had difficulty working up the courage to talk to them. Not that she was a particularly shy Tauren, but her eroded grasp of Taurahe kept her clutched in the throes of social anxiety. If it had not taken her five minutes to find all the words to her sentence, she might have actually met a kindred spirit that mirrored her appearance. Instead she sat back and observed her long-lost brethren from afar, only interacting for the purpose of business. Lucky for her, the herbs she had found in the deep wilderness of north Kalimdor were in high demand and she managed to liquidate her inventory into a small fortune. She remembered seeing some of the wealthier Kaldorei flaunting their coins, lounging about Nighthaven on summer holiday. Their money bags were almost full to bursting strapped to their elegant robes, planting seeds of envy into the less fortunate around them. She was surprised to see that the greenskins were using the same currency that had changed hands while she stayed with her mother in Moonglade. A bit of bitterness welled up on her tongue at that thought and she spit on the ground as her hooves continued to pound toward her supposed destination.

Tuhka Thunderhorn couldn't help but grin at the image of her mother bursting into melodrama over her daughter returning to Mulgore a rookie huntress. Her spiteful fantasies, however, would have to remain as such as her mother hadn't communicated with her in well over twelve seasons. No, that section of her life had been cauterized once she left Moonglade with a bow in hand. "You're a Mistrunner too, young lady. You have no place seeking out your father's life. If you want to be slain early on in your days, go be a Thunderhorn. Just see where it gets you. Dead. Now come to your senses and let me teach you the ways of the Cenarion Circle." The acidic memory redirected her attention towards her goal with a renewed sense of passion. She was going to return to the open arms of her people a proud descendant of Thunderhorn, a true testament to ages of tradition rooted in the Great Hunt. As her steady jog accelerated to a hearty sprint, pillars of smoke rose over the horizon. Grinning with delight, she entered the settlement. Not only was this camp brimming with her fellow Tauren, but a verdant grassland was beginning to take a hold on the brown canvas of the Barrens.

Tuhka Thunderhorn was home for the first time.