The Wounded Pack

#3- Spirits

To be in the same army than those famous Warriors he had only heard of in tales was something almost unreal. He could feel the excitement of his brothers in arms, as the presence of Grommash Hellscream and Orgrim Doomhammer invigorated them. Drek'thar was also with them, and Naurosh had never seen the wise Shaman fighting in a true battlefield. Truly it was quite amazing to witness such a display of power, skill and experience.

But what was really a spectacle was to see the young orc who had managed to unite his people: the very son of Durotan, the former chieftain of Naurosh's clan. His name was Thrall, and he fought with the strength of the elements at his side with an expertise that neither him nor anyone else had ever seen before. He was responsible of the storm that had darkened the skies in order to help them assault the Lordamere Internment Camp. To follow such leader wasn't only an honor, but something to be proud of.

— Keep pressing on the attack! — his commander yelled — . These humans are weak and unprepared. They aren't worthy enemies but we have to free our people! For the Horde, for freedom! Lok'tar Ogar!

The assault was a bloodbath, with guards and unwary workers slaughtered easily and their corpses stomped and crushed under the relentless advance of the orcs. Naurosh could see the surprise in the prisoners' eyes, but he could also see the fire of their rage quickly igniting, tasting liberty for the first time in years. As Thrall, Doomhammer and Hellscream hacked and slashed their way into the heart of the camp, some veterans of the old wars picked swords and clubs from the fallen in order to join the strife.

— Hurry, brothers and sisters! — someone yelled — . These petty humans have started killing our kind before we can release them! Stop them so no more lives are lost today!

Naurosh was paralyzed for a second. For a long time he had wondered what had happened to his mother and his brother, who disappeared eight years ago. He and his youngest brother had both gone to the Valley in order for Korghan to receive the blessing of their ancestors. When they returned home a couple of days latter, they found a gruesome scene: human corpses, frozen blood everywhere and their very own father, laying lifeless on the floor. There were no signs of Dunris and Otka, and out of pure instinct the two boys returned to the Valley once more. They warned everyone about what had happened and a tracking party was sent to find the missing wolf breeder and her child. Unfortunately, they didn't succeed, and both Naurosh and Korghan grew up with the thought that their mother and their brother had been taken to an Internment Camp.

When Thrall and Doomhammer rallied the free orcs to release the prisoners, Naurosh's heart was filled with hopes of finding their mother. This was the third camp they assaulted, and still there was no sign of his lost family. But now, after hearing what the guards were doing to the prisoners, fear stroke him as never before. Young Korghan, who was no older than eleven years, was there next to him, but Naurosh was suddenly blind and deaf to everything around him. He charged towards the frontline, eager to break the lines of the humans and start looking for his mother.

— Brother! Wait! — Korghan yelled, but it was too late already.

Naurosh disappeared in the turmoil, trying to reach the cages behind his enemies, but he had to stop and fight at every moment. He was way younger than the guards; some of them may have battled in the old wars, while these assaults to the internment camps were Naurosh's firsts combats. Luckily he wasn't alone; as the other warriors dealt with the jailors, the young orc and some of his allies rushed to save the prisoners. They slaughtered the humans that were killing the inmates and then released those who were in cages. But neither Otka nor Dunris were anywhere to be found.

Suddenly, he heard some loud howls to his back, quite different than the Frostwolf Warriors' ones. He opened his eyes widely, arching his eyebrows so much it almost hurt his forehead. He knew those howls, he would've recognized them anywhere. Even though it's been years since he didn't listen to them, he was certain that he would've identified them wherever he would be. Out of pure instinct, as he was used to react, he turned around and rushed towards the source of those howls, his heart beating at an unbelievable rate.