Proving

The huntress glared over her shoulder. She'd been so glad when she made it to Zabra'Jin, but these trolls were making it hard.

They'd been curious when she asked for help with trollish lettering. Several gathered around watching as she embossed the leather, the silver thread carefully outlining the runes, as well as the outline of a wolf. She was so focused in her work- and thinking over the one she was making it for, that she hardly noticed. Pausing at the mailbox, she ran her hand over the lettering, before turning to see a dozen trolls watching her.

She blushed scarlet. "It's for a friend." Met with silence, the embarassment turned to anger, and she wanted to shout. "What do you want? You have a task for me, or something?"

"Nah, ya don' be havin' the mojo to be huntin' 'round here. Ya be too little, girly." Ceitidh stomped out into the swamp, detirmined to prove herself.

Returning at sunset for a week, the sin'dorei brought in piles of leathers, meats, plants, and various bits of armor. And they still laughed at her.

Each morning, she'd head for the stable master to get her hawkstrider, Gaothain. He'd laugh, making comments about her 'little birdy.'

One morning, she finally had enough. At the gate, she whirled around. "What the fel do you want from me?" "Nuttin, girly. can't expect much from a little bit 'oo can' even ride but a little bird. Now a raptah, that'd be summtin. Or one of dem wolfies da orcses ride." They laughed to themselves. "Ya be thinkin' da orcses would let that slip ride on'o dem wolfies?" Ceitidh sped off, the sound of their laughter ringing in her ears.

"To Orgrimmar, then."

Ceitidh stomped her foot, glaring at the stablemaster. “What do you mean, I can’t have one?” She hefted a pouch of coins. “I have enough money.. You see me here all the time with Orri and Righ- you know I can be trusted! Fel- Even Kormok trusts me, and you know that’s no small accomplishment for a sin’dorei. Not many can say that!

The orc looked down at the huntress, laughing. “Nope- it’s not enough. Impressive, sure, but I still can’t let you have a wolf.”   He put a hand on the fuming elf’s shoulder. “It’s not my decision, girl. There’s more folks higher-up that need more proof.”

The huntress’ ears drooped. “Fine. What do I need to do to prove it to them? Apparently all the stuff in Draenor’s not worth anything.”

“Go to the valley of Trials. I’ll watch Orain and Righrean. You can do the tasks there on your own. When all else fails, start at the beginning.”

--

The orc sneered. “You think you can survive out here without your pets, girly? There won’t be any teas and bubble baths around here.”

Ceit smirked. “I don’t drink tea, grunt. I brought my own ale, anyhow.”  She tested the string on her bow, notching an arrow. “So what is it you need me to do?” She brought up the bow, sighting along the arrow. “Need a few of these piggies killed?” Almost absently, she loosed the bolt, bringing down a boar easily.

She looked up at the orc evenly. “How many more?”

---

After a moment, the orc regained his composure, trying to glare down at the elf. “Fair shot, but I wonder how well you could do without that pretty bow of yours.” He reached for it, drawing back suddenly as a feral snarl escaped the huntress’ lips. She met his eyes, smoldering wrath for what seemed an hour, before unstringing her bow and placing it in her quiver.

She took a deep breath and looked around. One eyebrow raised in a smirk, she turned back, tugging on her gauntlets. “Fine then. How many more?”

--

Ceitidh dove off the pier in Ratchet, trying to wash away some of the barrens dirt. After her swim, she sat on the shore to dry off.

The huntress looked at herself appraisingly. She was certainly stronger- perhaps a bit more tanned. Careful not to use what she had above newer recruits, she’d even stabled Gaothain, her hawkstrider, in order to run the miles herself.

Pulling a list from her pack, she looked over what she’d done. Talking out boars, zhevras, plainstriders, lions- even centaurs with her bare hands. She’d learned how to use the two-handed sword while mowing down adherents of the Burning Blade. Now she worked to hone her skill with an axe while lessening the quillboar and harpy threat of the Barrens.

And still it wasn’t enough.

“Blasted stubborn Orcs.” She threw a handful of sand into the sea. “They’re not going to get me however hard they try. I’m going to get a wolf. I’m going to prove myself to them somehow.

Ceitidh looked at the pair of axes sitting by her bag. “At least I’m getting plenty of weapons training. They certainly can’t fault that. Doubt it’d help though.” The huntress stood and looped the axes into her belt, along with the smaller throwing axe at the small of her back. She picked up her pack and looked at the horizon.

“Let’s get this over with. I’d rather be in Nagrand.”

---

Ceitidh grinned, dropping the huge bundle at the orc’s feet. The tailors all watched open mouthed at the cloth as the elf strode in. Even the dragonhawk at her shoulder carried another bundle in his beak.

Evenly, the huntress addressed the quartermaster. “So you think this may be enough?” Nodding mutely, the orc fumbled in her pocket, handing the elf a piece of rolled parchment.

With a sharp salute, and a grand bow, Ceitidh laughed and ran from the shop- focused only on her destination- the riding instructor.

The orc sneered down from atop his wolf. The sin’dorei looked even smaller that way, and he liked it. “So, what makes you think you’re worthy of learning to ride one of these beasts? These wolves are trained to carry warriors into battle- not little girls to picnics in the park.”

Ceitidh kept her gaze level, dropping a pouch of gold and the parchment into the trainer’s outstretched palm. “That’s what. Signed by Thrall.” She swung lightly into the saddle of the wolf next to him, and took off at a gallop.

An hour later, the elf and her borrowed wolf returned, both covered in Durotar sand, but still standing tall. The elf hopped down, shook the dust from her hair, and brushing some from the wolf’s fur as well.

Ten minutes later, the instructor returned on his mount- looking bedraggled and harassed. He ambled over to the kennel master, his eyes a little wild. With a furtive glance at the huntress, the trainer whispered to his friend; “The grey female- the one that seems to laugh at everyone?”  The kennel master nodded. “No one seems to be up to keeping her- I’ve had five bring her back already.” The trainer smiled. “I think we finally found the right rider for her….”

The wolf came to a halt and shook out her fur. Nagrand was pretty- just like the girl promised. She snorted restively, surveying the territory. Much to hunt, and room to run. Good, good..

Ceitidh leaned forward in the saddle to scratch the wolf’s ears affectionately. Her laugh was gentle. “ A good hunting ground?” The wolf tossed her head, pulling the reins free from the elf’s hands.

“You like to run, do you?”  The huntress held on tight to the saddle’s pommel, letting the reins hang loose. “Good. So do I.”

“Let’s run.”