A sound, lonely and eerie, spread through the night like ripples on water. A desert bird? The dying moan of one of the kodos in the graveyard below? Something more sinister from the coven to the south? Vo'jya lifted his head, ears twitching towards the sound, alert, tense. He waited, on edge, for a warning signal from the scouts, but there was nothing. With a soft sigh he turned back to the small, flickering fire and looked down into his lap.

There was a groan, this time from closer at hand. Dark indigo eyes, lit by the orange glow of the fire looked to the side, falling on the fur and leather covered litter.

"You awake dere, Mastah Jemba?" Vo'jya called softly. There was another groan and a thick, wet cough from the old troll trundled onto the makeshift litter. Vo'jya scooted closer, peering over the bundle and tugging down the fur that covered half of Jemba's face. His skin was still sallow gray and seemed to be hanging more loosely from his frame. The younger hunter winced at the sight of him and then reached for a flask of water, bringing it to his master's cracked lips. The old troll's eyes fluttered open, though they looked milky, and he drank. Vo'jya cradled the back of his head, making sure that he did not choke.

It had been three days since they left Malaka'jin; four since Vo'jya woke in the Barrens beaten and stripped of his clothing and gear. The trolls of the small hunting settlement had been more than happy to help them, giving them clothes, food, and what few supplies they could spare. Being young and hale, Vo'jya's own more serious wounds had healed quickly enough under the care of Jin'Zil, the witch doctor at Malaka'jin, but Jemba was old. His own regenerative ability was greatly diminished due to his age, and many times the witch doctor had looked up to meet Vo'jya's eyes with a shake of his head and cluck of his tongue as the healing had not taken well enough to do more than stop the bleeding and soothe away some of the pain.

"His boddeh be old, mem'ki," the voudoun had croaked. "His spirit be more worried abou' findin' da way out den findin' da way back in."

Vo'jya's protests, his demands that Jin'Zil do more, that he try again did nothing to sway the old witch doctor or to heal his master. They had stayed only the one day. If he could not save his master by staying then he would keep his promise and bring him home one way or another. So with the help of a few of the inhabitants of the settlement he'd fashioned the litter with sturdy pole handles out of what wood the scrubby Stonetalon trees could offer and leather and furs the trappers and hunters were willing to part with. If he'd had more time he could have gotten them himself, but time was not a luxury he had. He'd wrapped the feet of the poles in leather and grass padding so that it would not bounce quite so much. And then he'd set out, dragging his master behind him the first day as far as Sunrock Retreat. After that the going had been slower with no road through the Charred Vale, but in the late afternoon of the third day they had reached Ghostwalker Outpost both still breathing.

And that was where they were now, huddled around a fire on one of the small plateaus, Jemba still lashed to the litter, Vo'jya's body weary from regenerating itself and dragging his master behind him day after day. But the young hunter did not complain. He had no right to. This was his fault. His selfishness, his vices, had caused this.

Vo'jya looked down at his master and pulled the water flask away when it seemed he was done drinking. He expected the old troll's eyes to fall closed again, but they didn't. Their milky gaze stayed locked on his face, and then to Vo'jya's great surprise Jemba spoke.

"I tried," he croaked, "I tried ta be a good mastah ta ya, mem'ki."

Vo'jya blinked, uncomfortable at the sound of his master's voice. "I en't no mem'ki, old mon. Jus' stay quiet."

There was a wet, strained chuckle. "I been quiet fo' almos' four days now. Finalleh got da strengt' ta say somet'in' dat I t'ought I migh' not get ta be sayin'. So listen fo' once in yo' spirit fo'saken life."

Vo'jya sighed and rocked back onto his rear, sitting down beside the litter, hands loosely dangling around his knees. "You gwonna say you sorreh, mastah?"

There was a long silence. "I be sorreh," the old troll said at last, and as he continued his voice was halting, tired. "It was mah fault you turned out da way you did. I t'ought I could make you hard, like a stone. Hard but polished. I didn' want'chu ta be like Dembe, t'inkin' da bes' of da world, tryin' so hard to make iveryone happeh. A good, gentle heart dat festahs undah da bittahness of life when it finalleh shows its head. Ya… I wanted ya to know how bittah life was righ' from da start, mon."

Vo'jya snorted softly at that, his jaw clenching. Rain… the red rain. He could still see it when he closed his eyes. "I alreadeh knew, mastah. I remembah more dan you t'ink abou' wha' happened to mah faddah."

"No whelp should'a seen dat," Jemba said softly, licking his numbing lips. "No one should'a seen dat." They were silent again for a time, each lost in the inescapable horror of old memories.

"So you wanted to make me hard, eh Masta Jemba?" Vo'jya spoke at last, his voice so bitter he could almost taste bile as he spoke. "Dat why you beat me when you got ta drinkin' so hard? Why you lef' me ta fend fo' myself time an' time again in da wilds? Didn' let meh see da healah when I broke bones because of da tasks you set me to? Mos' of which were near impossible ta accomplish, an' which I knew I would be punished fo' failing ta achieve when I returned ta you? Why you kep' me away from oddahs, an' made sure I knew to be silent when we were in da village?" Vo'jya chuckled hollowly, trying to swallow down the tight, hateful feeling in his throat. "If you wanted to make me hard an' alone an' aware of life's bittahness you been doin' a verreh good job, mastah."

Jemba closed his rheumy eyes, taking several shallow breaths. "I know I did alla dat, mem'ki. I hated dat I did, an' I know ya will probableh no' believe me when I say it was out of love dat I wanted ya to be so strong I t'ought it bettah ya died if ya couldn' do it."

Vo'jya snorted, but said nothing.

"But dere was also hatred an' angah," he said thickly. "I regret dat, but I couldn' stop it. Iverytime I saw yo' face I t'ought of Dembe, of alla da sacrifices he made fo' ya, of iveryt'in' he suffahed fo' ya. An' when I was drinkin' I couldn' stop mahself from hittin' dat face," his voice was a whisper now. "I loved yo' faddah. More den innyt'in' on dis world I loved Zul'Dembe. Ya probableh don' remembah, but ya used to lie between our chests an' sleep when we were done makin' love. At leas' it was love fo' me. I don' know wha' Dembe felt, but I don' t'ink he realleh evah loved innyt'in' oddah dan ya. An' I resented dat, resented ya even when he was alive. But as much as I resented ya, I loved ya because ya was a part of Dembe, an' I could see dat aftah he was gone in iveryt'in' you did. I knew I couldn' lose ya da way I lost yo' faddah: to some sof', self-sacrificin' e'chuta. Instead I jus' pushed ya away, made ya hard, an' los' ya to yo' own selfishness an' resentment of me. I didn' realize mah mistakes an' dat I t'ought of ya as mah son, Dembe an' mah son, until ya lef' meh wit'out a word da day ya came of age. Been chasin' ya aroun' evah since tryin' ta make it an' ya right again. Nevah could blame ya fo' rejectin' me even den. I was a hard mastah an' a terrible faddah ta ya, Vo'jya. So, I be sorreh."

Vo'jya sat, still silent, wrestling with so many different emotions that he could barely move. No, he had not remembered that Jemba and his father had been lovers, had not ever thought they were more than friends. Working through the old troll's twisted logic hurt, partially because Vo'jya could not deny to some extent that he could understand having to hurt the thing that meant the most to you to keep it safe. That cruelty was often so much easier than affection, and could often serve the same purpose. He stared into the fire.

"Tell him dat ya love him, mon," Jemba croaked, his voice thin, fading. "Dat bwa could be yo' life. So much bettah dan bein' hard an' alone. Prove me wrong abou' ya, an' what I've done to ya."

Vo'jya turned his head, indigo eyes so dark they looked like chips of obsidian flickering in the fire light. "Go back ta sleep, Mastah Jemba. Alla dis talkin' takin' up yo' enahgy, mon."

Vo'jya came awake with a start, the dream-memory so vivid he could still almost smell the fire smoke and taste the bitterness in his mouth. His heart thumped and ached in his chest, and he was strangely out of breath, chest rising and falling sharply. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the small room Taki had at the inn. Dark blue eyes squinted as thin, discolored Outland light filtered in through the small window above the bed. He turned his head to see Taki curled next to him halfway on his stomach, halfway on his side. His orange braids, half of which had come undone, spilled over his shoulder and into his face, the brightness of his hair contrasting prettily with the sky blue of his skin and fur. The hunter reached out to push some of it back from his face.

Taki shifted, taking a deep breath of warm, slightly stuffy morning air as he turned more fully onto his side, increasing the tension of the sheets against his bare hips. He blinked and groaned softly, slowly becoming aware of the aches of his body, some so deep they were in places he didn't know existed. Vo'jya watched him as he fussed awake. Taki reached out, groping to find Vo'jya's body as flashes of the night before came back to him and he smiled, giggling to himself. Orange eyes opened as the hunter reached out to take the questing hand in his own and press it to his chest.

He gave Taki a lopsided smirk, reaching out to touch the younger troll's face. "I can' believe I'm in one piece. I t'ought fo' sure you would set me on fiyah o' sick de elements on me at leas' once las' night, bwa."

Taki stuck out his tongue. "Why would I be doin' dat, mon? You been doin' iveryt'ing I tol' ya to fo' once."

Vo'jya chuckled and shook his head, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "You somet'in' else, bwa." His voice was thick with sleep and the lingering emotions of his dream.

Taki scooted closer into the curve of Vo'jya's arm. Vo'jya did him one better and pulled Taki onto his chest. Their noses almost bumped. Orange eyes searched the hunter's handsome face. "You bein' regrettin' it? You still t'ink it gwonna change iveryt'ing?"

Vo'jya was silent for a long moment, during which he began to run an idle hand through Taki's braids. That odd, distant look was returning to his eyes. "You happeh wit' you life wit' da Ring, bwa?"

Taki blinked. That hadn't answered his question. "What dat got to do wit' dis? I'm grindin' ta mah duty, mon. Dis where I'm supposed to be. Mah place in da Ring is what I been grindin' to alla dis time. En't nowhere else fo' me ta be, Vo'jya. Wit'out dis I'm jus' a bwa from some tiny tribe o' sway makahs. Why? You plannin' on hoppin' da wind wit' me?" His voice was playful.

Vo'jya gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head. "Nah. Dis where you belong. You worked hard fo' dis. You gwonna do great t'ings here, savin' da eart', bwa."

"I worked hard fo' you, too," Taki said softly, scratching his nails gently against Vo'jya's chest. "If I had ta be choosin'-"

"Don' finish dat t'ought," Vo'jya cut him off.

"But Voj, I-" this time Taki cut himself off, gasping and sitting all the way upright, tossing back the covers. "Da gaddahrin'!" He was up and out of the bed, stumbling as soon as his feet hit the floor. "Fus'yudo!" he swore, putting a hand to his lower back, grimacing in pain. He shot a glance over his shoulder back at Vo'jya. "Be remindin' me to let ya be honey sweet nex' time." Vo'jya chuckled, propping himself up on one arm to watch the shaman as he started pulling his clothing back on, making faces as he did so.

"I onleh do what I'm told, bwa."

"Well I'm waggin' sure like now dat next time you don' be listenin' to me," Taki grunted as he pulled his shoulder pack over his head. He pressed his hand into the small of his back and mumbled under his breath as he started to work some healing into it, a faint green glow against his blue skin. After a moment he made quickly for the door.

"Hoi, bwa!" Vo'jya called sharply, halting Taki in his tracks as he spun around to look back at the bed. The sight of the hunter lying there only partly covered in the sheets did something to him that made it a little hard to breath. But there was also that look in his eyes again that made something in his chest hurt and gave him a very bad feeling.

"What, Voj? I gotta be shakin' out quick like."

"Just wanted a good look at'chu, bwa," he said, staring, eyes dark and partially hidden by his bangs.

Taki fidgeted under that stare and swallowed, pushing his orange braids back over his shoulder. He felt himself flushing, and he turned back towards the door. "I gwonna be shakin' back in a few hours, mon. You can be puttin' da hard eyes on me den, okeh?" He looked back over his shoulder.

Vo'jya was still staring at him, and the trace of a smile played over his lips. "Okeh, bwa."

Taki was on his way, mounted and nearly out of the city when an all too familiar cold shiver went through his body. A sensation he had not had in several weeks.

You finally got what you wanted, cully. So much energy. Feeling better, aren't we, cully? Just like I said. Still I think it was foolish of you to wait for him, but what do I know. Eh, cully?

"You pickin' da bes' time ta be shakin' back intah mah head, mon," Taki snarled.

I've always been here, cully, keeping you company, watching out for you. But this world has its own spirits, cully. It's not our world. It's hard to stay lively. But you're pulsing with life now, cully, and I'm feeling pretty good just riding your high. That's how it should be. We should be sharing with each other, keeping each other strong, cully.

Taki snorted. "I liked it better when you were hushed up. You gwon an' be feelin' as lively as you please, but be keepin' outta mah head, mon. I en't in da mood ta be entahtainin' company."

Still so reticent, cully. You can't fight what you are forever.

"An' what dat bein'?!" Taki snapped, already sick of the rambling in his head.

One who can attract the patronage of the spirits. I was lucky to be the first to lay claim to you, cully. You can thank your sheltered life for that.

Taki snorted this time. "You gwonna be disappointed, mon, when you be ponderin' straight like you waggin' about da wrong kinda spirits. I'm bein' a shaman. I en't no vodoun o' witch doctah," he sneered.

Call yourself what you like, cully. But you will be more than you presume. Who do you think guards the gates to your spirit? I know what waits to get inside your head and into your soul, cully. The distant voices you hear are but a whisper of the clamoring that could await you. One day the gates will break, and then you will be ever so glad you have a gatekeeper, cully.

Taki didn't bother to respond save to curl his lip and growl under his breath. He simply shoved the spirit away, finding it surprisingly easy. Maybe it was because as the spirit had hinted its ties to the physical world of Draenor were weak, or perhaps it was because Taki was feeling stronger spiritually than he had in a very long time. Maybe there was something to be said about finding ways to build one's energy. He'd certainly enjoyed last night's exercise in the matter. Taki flushed again, a hot rush that went all the way up his neck and to the tips of his ears, coloring parts of his skin a pinkish lavender.

He rode the rest of the way to the Throne of the Elements without so much as a whisper or a shiver from the spirit, and by the time he got there he'd managed to push most of the niggling self-doubt and worry it had caused from his mind. He was only a little late and so left his mount by the water's edge, sidling into the gathered ring of Earthmenders, Farseers, and Elementalists as surreptitiously as he could. He got only a few looks, but he couldn't help but notice the gaze of Elementalist Yal'hah lingering over him critically. The brown-skinned orc was an elder of the Mag'har who was the main liaison between the Earthen Ring and the settlement of Garadar.

Not that Taki truly knew exactly what any of that meant. The history and traditions of the orcs were far too complicated and far too removed from his own experiences to interest him. The Earthen Ring was a neutral organization, something that, being from a tribe that took a neutral if rather reclusive stance itself, suited Taki just fine. Still Yal'hal was not just an elder of his tribe, but of the Earthen Ring, and if he was dissatisfied in some way with something Taki had or had not done he was sure he was going to hear about it. The young shaman sagged a bit, sensing that he was not simply going to be able to head back the city and his waiting... lover.

The thought of the word made Taki blush happily from toes to ear tips and he couldn't completely stifle the rather stupid giggle that welled up from deep within him. In fact he was so distracted by his thoughts that he hardly even heard what the elders were saying. Something about the plateau he thought, and the water elementals in the lake again. It seemed that no matter how many were either put to rest or vanquished others seeped in from the elemental plane to take their place. And always they were raging, leaving destruction and anger in their paths. Taki sighed sadly at the thought, and wondered again why he was there. Was there really any point to any of this? Could a world so shattered both physically and spiritually really ever be healed, even by those with the best of intentions? Terribly pessimistic thoughts for a shaman to have in relation to his calling, Taki knew, but then again he'd never really been a very good shaman to begin with.

He waited through the gathering patiently, but as soon as it was over he tried to hurry back to his mount, avoiding the lingering gaze of Elementalist Yal'hal. But he could not ignore it when the elder shaman actually called to him by name.

"Earthmender Tak'tara," his gravely, low voice carried over the flat ground of the throne, and made the tips of Taki's ears twitch. He did not like the way his full name sounded in the thickly accented orcish. "Wait for a moment."

Taki turned slowly, giving the orc a look that he hoped wasn't too obviously wary. "Somet'in' I can be helpin' you wit, Elementalis'? Ya remembah dat ya relieved me of mah duties fo' a few days? A good friend of mine has come ta visit me," he said, hoping that this would give the elder shaman a hint that he had somewhere to be and did not wish to be bothered with official business at the moment.

"Yes I remember speaking with you yesterday," the elder grunted in a tone that suggested he didn't like the implication that he had a faulty memory, still ambling slowly towards the young shaman. "It is about your friend that I wish to speak to you."

Taki blinked and stared for a moment. "About Vo'jya?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

The orc nodded and motioned for Taki to follow him, which the Shatterspear did after a moment's hesitation, leading his raptor by its reins. They stepped out onto the surface of the lake that stood between the Throne of the Elements and Garadar, each shaman casting a water walking spell on himself. As they walked Yal'hal spoke slowly. "Early this morning two troll men from Zabra'jin, Darkspears, not of your tribe, came to Garadar asking questions about whether or not your friend had been there."

Taki furrowed his brows, testily pointing out in his head that there were no men from his tribe in Zabra'jin, though he kept his mouth shut. He wondered what in the name of the Loa two of Vo'jya's tribesmen could want from him badly enough to track him across Outland. "What are dey wantin' wit, Vo'jya? He en't much fo' servin' da Horde or innyt'in' like dat," Taki said, giving the back of Elamentalist Yal'hal's head a scowl.

"It was nothing like that," the elder orc shook his head and waved a hand. "They said that your friend has been accused of a serious crime against their tribe, and has fled his sentencing in defiance to their tribal laws. I must admit I was concerned this morning that I would not be seeing you again, and what that might mean. But I am glad to see you are unharmed and that your friend is at least honorable enough not to attempt to abscond with you."

By this time they were climbing up the short rise from the water's edge to the gates of Garadar, though Taki's legs seemed to have gone numb. He shook his head and then scoffed a little incredulously. "Vo'jya... Vo'jya is no criminal. How do you know dat dese men are even tellin' you da trut'?" Taki then had the sickening thought that perhaps these "trolls from Zabra'jin" were indeed men sent after Vo'jya to collect payment from him for yet another round of debts.

Yal'hal shrugged, a gesture that clearly said that no matter who these trolls were or where they had come from ultimately he did not care so long as they did not disrupt his town and his order any more than they already had. "I told them he had been here and that with any luck you would be returning this morning and that I would bring you to them."

Taki balked, halting in his tracks as they passed beyond the gate and some ways up the main road into the town. "What?!" he barked, suddenly fearful. He thought about backtracking. He could quickly be mounted and out the gates, they were not far away. But as he looked up the road at Yal'hal he saw that it was already too late. Two large trolls, obviously warriors, and admittedly dressed like the guards of Zabra'jin were already making their way towards him, closing the gap quickly despite their deceptively easy, loping gate. He did not like the way they looked at him, with hard somewhat passive eyes.

"You are da friend of Vo'jya of da Darkspear?" one of them asked without any introductions.

Taki gave them both a wary once-over, tightening his grip on his mount's reins. His expression was guarded. "Dat's righ'. I be knowin' Vo'jya," Taki responded, concentrating on speaking as plainly as he could as he had learned to do in the years of his training with the Earthen Ring. His tongue felt thick, his speech forced.

"You are aware dat he is considahed a criminal by da Darkspear tribe and dat he has fled from his trial an' sentencin'?" the warrior spoke again.

Taki shook his head, shrinking back slightly against his raptor. Whatever these men were trying to tell him about Vo'jya, his Vo'jya, he did not want to hear it. "I don' be knowin' innyt'ing abou' dat. Vo'jya is a good mon. What has he been accused of? I want an explanation, an' I want to know who you are," Taki demanded, flaring his nostril angrily. This wasn't happening. Not now. Not when he'd just finally gotten what he wanted after all this time.

The first troll sneered at him, clearly annoyed by his demanding tone. "Ya en't Darkspear, an' ya en't even part o' da Horde, little Shattahspear shaman. So I would be careful what you go about demandin' of membahs of a tribe dat en't yo own an' you got no business makin' demands of."

Taki bristled, his orange eyes flashing. "I am a membah of da Eart'en Ring," he snarled, "an organization revered as couselahs by bot' T'rall an' yo chief, Vol'jin." He straightened up, though his average height of seven feet was most likely not impressive to these large warriors. "You ought ta be showin' me a bit more respec' if you demandin' mah time an attention bein' taken away from mah duties ta answer yo questions."

The second troll waved the first back as he tensed, obviously angered by Taki's words. He looked bit more reasonable. "Ya be righ', mon. Fo'give our rudeness, but yo' friend causin' us a bit o' trouble, mon. Tempahs be short ovah dis mattah since it be concernin' da honor of our tribe." He made a quick head-nod in place of a bow. "I be Gan'kaz an' dis be Danjo. An' I assure ya, mon, dis be official business of our tribe. Yo' frien', Vo'jya, he been accused of da murder of his mastah," Gan'kaz's voice was flat and very deep.

Now Taki's eyes widened, darting back and forth between the two Darkspear warrior. His mind was whirling. He almost laughed out loud, the thought was so preposterous. Vo'jya? Harm Master Jemba? He actually did snort. "Dat's so sidewise it's almos' dis side again," he scoffed, unable to keep from relapsing back into his native dialect in his agitation. The two Darkspear warriors looked at him with raised eyebrows. Taki shook his head. "I know Mastah Jemba, too, an' Vo'jya would nevah harm him. Mebbe dey didn' have da bes' relationship fo' a mastah an' pupil, but dey were close despite what dey t'ought of each oddah! What is yo' proof of dis?" he demanded incredulously, though his voice was not entirely as convicted as he would have like.

Even as he spoke, the full meaning of the trolls' words began to set in. If Vo'jya was being accused of Master Jemba's murder then that meant that the graying old hunter that had always been so fond of Taki was dead, and he'd had no idea. Vo'jya had said nothing. Was it just because he had not wanted to upset Taki right away after they had not seen each other for so long? Because they had other things to talk about first? His stomach lurched and he brought his hand to his mouth for a moment, unable to quite comprehend the horror of such a thing. He swayed on his feet and one of the warriors, Gan'kaz, reached out to steady him by his elbow.

"You airey, mon?" he asked in his flat, low voice.

Taki pulled his arm away gruffly, taking a deep breath to steady himself, fighting back the tears the felt coming to his eyes. "No I am not airey, mon! You're bein' waggin' at me dat one of mah friends is dead, murdered, an' dat mah... dat mah Vo'jya is accused of it, an' you still en't told me why!"

The two troll exchanged a glance that clearly told Taki that neither one of them particularly felt that they owed him anything more, explanation or otherwise. But Gan'kaz shrugged, a gesture that said 'what harm could it do?' and turned back to the young shaman. "He is accused of dis crime by his own admission. Da Hunter Mastah died aftah being brought to Shadowprey village in da care of Vo'jya. He had been beaten so badly dat he could no longah heal himself o' be healed by anoddah in his old age. Vo'jya has offahed no explanation oddah den to say da blame is his despite plenteh of opportunity to do so. What more proof does one need when de accused accuse himself?"

Taki listened with wide eyes, shaking his head slowly. "Why would he be waggin' dat it was him dat been doin' such a t'ing onleh ta hop da wind befo' his trial?"

The trolls chuckled coldly, and this time it was Danjo that spoke up. "To escape da shame of bein' sentanced befo' his tribe an' his village, mon. His punishment is to be banishment wheddah o' not he is too cowardly to show his face befo' da tribal council again. Us bein' sent fo' him is onleh a fo'mality, a chance fo' him to bring himself a small amount less of shame. You would be doin' him a favah to take us to him, mem'ki."

Taki chafed under being called a child by these strangers. He bristled under their words and their assumptions, and his heart filled with fear when he heard, with disbelieving ears, what was in store for the hunter. Banishment? Exile? To be disowned by his own tribe, and thus in essence by all trolls? Taki knew that Vo'jya had never cared overly much for their culture, their ways, their religion, but he also knew that no matter how little a troll might seem to care for his or her tribe there was truly nothing more important or closer to the heart of every troll. To be cast out was in essence to no longer be oneself. There was no greater punishment. Not even death. It also meant that he and Vo'jya could never truly be together, not as lovers and certainly never as anything more, if Taki was to remain in good standing with his own tribe, the Earthen Ring, and by proxy the Horde.

Suddenly Vo'jya's words came back to him in a rush: how there were things about him that Taki did not know, how consummating their feelings for one another would change and complicate everything in his life, how Vo'jya had feared that Taki would hate him the next day. His heart skipped in fear and Taki suddenly knew that he had to get back to the city. If all of this was true then Vo'jya had known the night before that he was being followed. He looked up fiercely at the two trolls. "Dis is e'chuta," he hissed. "I will show you. Come wit' me den, an' I will show you dat Vo'jya has not'in' to be runnin' from. An' he will tell you da trut'. I know he would nevah hurt Mastah Jemba. Whatevah dis ridiculous misundahstandin' is I will get it cleared up."

The two trolls chuckled without mirth and exchanged a glance. They, too, had heard in Taki's voice that he was trying to convince himself of what he said as much as them. Taki waited, the feeling in his stomach growing colder and sicker as the two Darkspear warriors went to get their mounts. Then he lead the way from Garadar and into the Naaru city.

It was just past noon, and the sun hanging in its broken sky was uncomfortably warm on the back of Taki's neck and his bare shoulders. He prickled beneath it and the hard stares of the two trolls who followed closely behind him. His sense of apprehension grew with each measured step of his raptor as he turned the words of the Darkspear warriors and the events of the previous night over and over in his head. The cold feeling in his stomach grew into a dead-weighted knot, and even though he did not want to believe it he knew what he would find as he left his mount tethered outside the inn and took the steps up to his room two at a time. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard and so loud he could not even hear his own footfalls.

"He will be here," he hissed to the two warriors who idled behind him in the hallway. "An' den we gwonna be clearin' dis mess up." But his words lacked conviction even as he tried to make himself truly believe them. The door was unlocked.

And beyond it the room was empty.

Orange eyes swept every corner of the tiny room in a second's time. There was nothing. No sign that Vo'jya had even been there. The bed was made, the window ajar to air out the otherwise stuffy little room. And with the sight of the empty room came the realization that he had meant to leave all along. Whatever the night before had been, or whatever it had meant it was over. It had all been there, but... Jus' dis once...

The words in Vo'jya's deep, even voice came back to Taki as he stepped into the room, and felt something inside of him break. It was not just the breaking of his heart, though he was aware of that as well, not just the dull, strange pain beneath every inch of his skin that made him want to press his hands into his eyes or pull at his hair, it was something deeper, something darker, something inside of his mind. And as it broke some tiny part of himself started to give way.

I told you, cully, not to get your hopes up...

He stood in the middle of the room, not even hearing the two trolls behind him as they cursed and argued with one another about what to do now. If they had mocked him or said 'I told you so' he hadn't heard, and wouldn't have cared. He did not see them look carefully about the room and then leave. He barely registered the deep voice of Gan'kaz say as he passed, "Sorreh abou' yo' friend, mem'ki." When the door closed behind them and he was alone Taki slid slowly to the floor. He could feel tears on his face, but he made no sound. Even as the dark shiver went through him and his eyes glazed over, his breath becoming visible in a chilly puff despite the heat of noon, he did not protest as arms seemed to rise from his own shadow to caress and embrace him.

Let it go, cully. We are all here to take care of you. I can let them in. You are tired. Just let it go, cully. Let go.

And then for the very first time Taki found that he did not want to argue with the voices in his head. He did not want to think. He did not want to see the empty room and know that he had made love to Vo'jya there the night before, and that Vo'jya had told him that he loved him, knowing full well that he would leave him alone again. He did not want to argue with himself about whether or not what the two Darkspear trolls had said was true.

Vo'jya was gone. The reason didn't matter. The sadness of it all was too much. With no Vo'jya and no Jemba, Taki had nothing left but his false calling and the tribe he had not seen in nearly three years. And with nothing to hold on to he let himself go, slipping into the hole left by whatever had broken away when he'd opened the door to find Vo'jya gone.