"Sorry, to hear that - now where is your Shaman?"
The orc grunted again, turned around and continued on his way... we entered the camp and I was overflooded with a cacophony of melodies and tunes: Sorrow, hate, surprise, boredom, hunger, thirst, memories.
Ouch, I'm in trouble now - the only tune I could think of was [color:"#a0a0ff"]Peace. Humming the sound of a crackling fire, singing the melody of the comfy warmth on a sleeping mat, of a mother cradling her baby, the joys of a full belly,[/color] I moved carefully through the camp.
And all the time I felt the orcs watching me, hands hovering over their weapons.
Don't cough, Kiya, don't even think of sneezing
"Here, Shaman." My leader grunted and left me.
In front of me sat a very old orc - his face was full of tattos and scars, his light blue eyes glared at me as if I were an insect, ready to be crushed. His body was hidden under a large cloak made out of feathers, fur bits and leather. His ears were pierced with strange ornamental geometrical earrings.
"Shaman?" I bent down a bit and held my dangling crystal before his face. "Shaman, do you know of this?"
The old orc raised his hand slowly, it trembled, and held the halfmoon close to his eyes. "Oh, he's nearly blind," I thought.
"Strong magic, what is this?" crackling voice.
"A crystal, out of a cave - a cave where you and the werewolves once listened together to the music of harmony - in a time were a bond was between many races, a time long ago. Can you hear me?"
[color:"a0a0ff"]I hummed the tune of harmony: Peaceful moonnights, howling in company, fur next to skin, the joy of sharing prey, the moonrays, hunting together, blue eyes meeting yellow ones, the moonshadows, the moon. Running side by side through the underwood - comrades, depending on one another, moon shining on both.[/color]
