BPB - Entangled (A Warcraft Story)

Universal Language

Zenkila hadn't risked going back to the briarthorn glade for several weeks after she fought the furbolg, especially as the blood was noticed on her return by her mentor. But her wounds healed quickly, a credit to the regenerative power of the troll race, and the thought of being able to harvest so much briarthorn in one place drew her back.

She had checked and checked again; waited an hour then checked once more, before venturing to the vines. She had expected the gooey sap to have closed the holes she had made and for the contents of the vials to have overflowed and developed a hardened crust on top fouling part of the yield, but to her surprise, the vines were still dripping and the vials were mostly empty.

Zen'Kila was puzzled, each plant she checked was the same. She took hold of one of the vines and twisted it to better see the incision. It was a fresh cut. A voice behind startled her and as she twisted quickly around several thorns embedded themselves in her hands.

She morphed to her bear form and stood poised for attack as her eyes find the elf. He stepped back and pointed at the vines, speaking again, but Zen'Kila couldn't understand him. Her paws throbbed and her eyes darted around looking for her best chance of escape.

The elf continued speaking and reached for a pouch on his belt but when Zen'Kila growled a warning, the elf tensed, watching her warily. When she didn't move, he finished pulling his hands from his belt, holding the pouch out to her.

He inched closer and nodded at the pouch stretching his arm out towards her. Zen'Kila changed back and snatched the pouch from him with thorn-ridden hands. The elf pointed to them and said something else she couldn't understand, then pointed at her arm still speaking. The pouch clinked as she opened it. Inside were two dozen vials, all full of the briarthorn goo.

She looked up at him, and he motioned to the pouch again, nodding as he spoke, Zen'Kila shook her head in answer and shrugged, still not understanding.

He picked up a stick and found a patch of dirt and crouching, drew a crude circle, and surrounded it with triangles and Zen'Kila recognised it as the sun, and the elf pointed up to affirm. He then scratched out five lines. He pointed at himself, then up at her, he motioned to the ground with both hands, then pointed to the lines and finally the sun symbol.

Zen'Kila guessed he wanted to meet here again in five days. He spoke again and pointed to the pouch, then back at the symbols drawn in the dirt.

More vials in five days.

Zen'Kila did something she never thought possible; she nodded and agreed to meet the night elf back in this briarthorn glade in five days' time. He stood and nodded, then pointing at her, spoke again, words that Zen'Kila guessed were darnassian. He looked at her expectantly and all Zen'Kila could offer in return was a puzzled look.

"I'll go den." She said aloud and turned, but the elf held up a hand. Zen'Kila looked at him as he moved his hand on his chest.

"Artion." He tapped his chest again. "Artion."

"Ahteyon." She repeated, which seemed to delight him as a smile broke across his face and he chatted to her enthusiastically.

"Artion." The elf pointed to himself then motioned to her and waited expectantly.

"Me?" The troll looked at the pouch she still held and the vials that were nestled inside. She held her hand to her own chest. "Zen'Kila."

"Zenkela." Her name sounded foreign coming from his lips and she smirked and shook her head.

"Kila. Zen'Kila. Kila." She repeats.

"Kela."

"No, but thank you for these." She held the pouch up as she turned away.

"Kila." She glanced back.

"Better." The elf pointed at the drawings in the dirt again. "Yes, yes."

She waved a hand over her shoulder as she walked away.