Mortar and pestle ground noisily in the forest twilight. The dense jungle was still with the charge of an impending storm, and so their user worked ever more swiftly. The young troll, easily not six years of age yet, was small and lanky. But with the stone and bowl she worked amazingly well, grinding the herbs of many colors. Now and again she would add a splash of liquid, and soon the plant remains had become a thick green paste. She turned toward the blue-furred male troll to her right after scooping up a goodly amount in her tiny hands.

"Zat'enn, hold it out please!" Speaking in an irritated tone, the white maned girl reached toward him. The wiry young troll would barely be considered an adult at his fourteen years of life on Azeroth. Even so he listened to the small troll, teeth gritted in a grimace behind his thick tusks as he rolled his shoulder and extended what little was left below it on his left arm. Blue was stained crimson with the ragged wound, sinew and muscle hanging free around the jagged remains of a humerus. Bleeding had all but stopped, drops of blood intermittently pattering against the lush forest floor. And though the would would certainly heal, and the limb regrow, that did not remove the pain.

The small female leaned up carefully and began to spread the paste across the wound, showing no sign of fright at the grisly injury, nor of sickness. Despite her young age she showed a hint of experience in her motions.

"Tch! Careful, Sia, you're being too rough...!"

She rolled her red eyes and wiped the remaining paste onto her only clothing, a ratty brown skirt. "You're just being a baby." She giggled in amusement and grabbed a length of grubby cloth wrapped into a ball, and wrapped it slowly around the extremity's stump. Pain-dulling herbs soon took effect and Zat'enn visibly relaxed, the lean male in his dirtied and bloodied hides reclining from his crouch to press his back against the rough tree the small lean-to they sat in rested on.

"I am not a baby. You should have seen!" On the roof of the branch-made sleeping shelter they huddled inside there was the sound of rain from above. Sia let out a forlorn sigh as the fledgling storm began. Looked like it was going to be salted meat again for supper. Oblivious to her separate line of through, he continued with a proud smile. "Largest bear I've ever seen!"

"Bear? Really?" Fascination filled the young troll. The forests were so dense here, and the animals so wary of her father and two fierce brothers that she had little chance to see any wildlife but from a distance. She had heard of bears, but never before seen a live one up close. it was often her siblings and father would leave their hut and campsite -- not she, though. "What did it look like?"

Zat'enn's grimace quickly morphed into a grin at his sister's elation. "It was bigger than both Sen'dali and I combined, with spiky black fur, and eyes as bright yellow as the old man's real tusk." He winked at the barb aimed at his absent father, causing her to burst into giggles once more.

"It was so big, I knew I had to bring it home for dinner. So, I raised my spear," he raised his right arm above his head, careful for the leaking, low roof, "and threw it at the beast!"

"Did you hit it?"

He scoffed playfully. "Of course!"

The features behind Siaala's barely-there tusks twisted up in disbelief. "...then why didn't you bring it back to the hut?" Zet'ann cackled at the expression, reaching down with his one arm to muss her already wild hair.

"Well, slow down and I'll tell you!" She pouted playfully in response, but fell silent. "The spear stuck in it's flank, but it didn't make a noise! I grabbed for my bow, but realized it was too late. Those yellow eyes looked at me and I was silent from fear, and so filled with terror I couldn't move!" His sister's bright eyes were alight with excitement, this sparking the male only to further put on a show of the tale, his voice raising.

"Inwardly I cursed myself, and I knew it couldn't have just been any normal bear. And I knew I was right when it spoke to me."

The child, naive in many ways as all children are, queried,"Can bears speak?"

"They certainly can," he nodded, "but not as trolls can. It turned those gleaming eyes to me and it -- he -- spoke. He didn't open is maw, but growled deep, and in my mind was his voice! It was fierce and frightening, and I had half a mind to curl up like a babe. Like you do when the light comes from the storm clouds!"

It took her a moment to realize his playful jab at her fear of lightning, but when Sia did she punched at his foot harmlessly. Laughing, he continued.

"He said to me 'Zat'enn,' -- he knew my name! -- 'Zat'enn, you have harmed a great forest spirit. Your trespasses are grave,'"

"You attacked a spirit?!"

"Seems so! The Bear Spirit obviously wanted something from me after that. The fear of the beast left me at this, and I thought, 'What would be a worthy sacrifice to make in apology?' The Bear Spirit stared at me. 'Will you accept my tusks?', I asked, desparate for my life. He snarled, 'Tusks are no good to a bear!'

"'Will you take my ears?'

"'They are far too chewy!'

"I was stumped! What else could I offer him but my very body? 'Take my left arm,' I offered. 'I am strong, and it will fill your belly, no doubt.'

"He looked at me like I were mad, then said 'Let me taste one. A spirit has no need for nourishment, but if you are strong enough the sacrifice may be acceptable payment for your misdeed.'

"The fear lifted from me more than before I was able to move, and he was coming right at me! His paws were huge, but the didn't even disturb the ferns." Then he leaned in, tusk points to Siaala's cheeks, grinning wickedly down at her. "Are you sure you wanna hear what happened next?"

Her mute, wide eyed nod was enough for him to continue. "He had to lower his muzzle down -- down!-- to my shoulder. And with the worst noise I've ever heard tore my arm right off!" She wrinkled her nose as he waggled his stump of an arm, torn off right below the shoulder. "You know the noise flesh makes when you're removing a hide from a wolf? It's like that, only ten times as bad.

"It hurt so bad I fell to my knees, and the spirit ate my severed arm in one massive gulp. As close as I was to crying, I was alive, and the spirit was satisfied. Or so I had through. Only now he began staring down at me more frighteningly then before and my heart sank. He looked as furious as ever, if not moreso, and said to me 'That was not a sufficient sacrifice.' 'Wh-what?!' I shouted, 'What else do you want...?'

"'A proper sacrifice would be something that means the world to you.' Well, giving him my right arm, or any other limbs would mean I wouldn't be able to hunt, and we could be without fresh food until they grew back! Plus, it would hurt a lot."

"What did you do, Zat...?" His little sister's hands nervously clutched at her grubby skurt, staring in fascination as he told his tale.

"Well, it took me so long, and the Spirit was pacing. He was angry! So..." he leaned in closer to the child, pressing his mouth as close to her pointed ears as he could, "I made a decision. 'Great Spirit,' I said, 'you can have...MY SISTER!'" And with his hand he grabbed her left bicep, shaking her to bring the full effect about.

And did it ever! The young troll let loose a shriek that would have put a banshee to shame, flailing wildly against his grip. Zant'enn burst into laughter and released his sister's arm. Panting and gasping after the realization it was just a mean joke that the Bear Spirit was coming for her, Siaala flew into a sulk and crossed her skinny arms over her chest, burying her nose in their confines. The both sat sniffling and coughing but otherwise silent, one from joviality and the other from fear, until a third voice broke this silence.

"Zat'enn, must you worry your sister so? She has many things to do yet tonight." The adult troll crouched in his dark red robes, rubbing a hand thoughtfully again her left tusk which was crafted of gold and ruby and gleamed in the coming night's air, the moisture of the drizzle surrounding him causing it to look even more stunning. Grey eyes stared at both with an unnerving intensity.

Siaala stood and turned toward her father, rubbing at her running nose only briefly. "You want me to do something, father?" She stares up at him with the obedient adoration that only dogs and young children seemed so capable of. In the dying rain, if it was not for his commanding presence her father would have otherwise looked pathetic, his long and wiry crown of white hair hanging limp, blue fur matted and wet.

"Dinner. Sen'dali caught a hog. As the rain has lessed, inside the hut the wood by the fire pit is strill dry enough. Prepare it before nightfall." His voice was quiet, barely heard over the soft wind and drizzle.

"Allright! I'll be super fast!" She hopped out of the lean-to and ran across the fern covered clearing, toward the wooden hut that was large enough for all of them to sit in, and where her other sibling was currently setting down the dead boar. As she left, father and son locked eyes.

"Nasty injury, boy."

"Yeah. Definitely smarts." A nervous smile spread across his thin face.

"I heard the little story you told SiSi. What really happened?"

Zat'enn hesitated, sucking in a long breath. "...an ogre. Please don't tell her, allright? She was so excited."

"If she still believes you after that little stunt, I will not dissuade her from believing it. Go assist her. When she has the pelt cut free and the beast gutted, you're to dispose of the inedible bits and prepare the hide. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Glowering up at the taller elder male Zat'enn stood and exited the lean-to. He nodded to the older, more muscular and more handsome Sen'dali with the same glower that had not yet been wiped from his face, murmuring to himself. "Well, I thought it was a good story..."