Untamed

==Untamed==
The ground was damp under her feet and palms; the storm had just passed. The sky was dark with the heavy clouds newly freed of their burden of rain. It was dusk; she instinctively knew this by the feel of the air and the evening breezes as the thermals over the ocean changed, the air blowing out to sea carrying with it the cold of the Alterac Mountains and the faint reek of the Plaguelands to the north. The sounds of the wildlife, the rustles in the grass and the trees gave the time away. The distant and faint sounds of the forges at Aerie Peak changed in tone as they died down for the night, lone craftsmen completing their tasks. The occasional sound of wings followed by a whiff of musk as a gryphon flew over head on its way to the roost, occasionally calling out harshly for their mates and young.
	She shuffled slightly, alert, bare hands placed on the grounds, fingers and fingernails now grown into claws digging into the turf and earth, the scent of crushed grass filling her nostrils. It always smelt so good after the rain. She sat like a dog or a wolf, arms together with the palms on the ground in front of her, legs tucked up to her sides, although for physical reasons she could never manage to sit truly like a wolf – it was more like a frog crouch. Her weight rested mainly on her hands, legs ready to spring. The toes of her feet and the ‘pad’ near them (and indeed it was a pad, her feet growing like those of the wolves from use in such ways) were placed upon the earth too. Curling toenails protected the ends of her toes, which she wriggled in the grass. Her hair was a matted mess, greasy and still damp from the storm. Due to living with the pack of wolves, she had fleas. But it didn’t matter; she was one of them, albeit of a low rank. The length of her hair was unknown; it was so matted that it was more like armor than hair, with twigs and leaves and goodness knows what added into the general mess, held back from her face by the fact that it stuck together and the wind blew it that way.
	Her ‘armor’ was a tattered mess of scraps stolen from the High Elves in their lodge by the lake, East of Aerie Peak, just to the north of her packs territory. She spent a lot of time watching them, the way they moved… She could now imitate the standing position quite well, and manage a quick sprint before reverting to bounding on hands and feet. Walking still proved a problem; not having four legs under you was [i]unnatural[/i]. The armor was – as stated – a collection of scraps she wrapped around herself, and after spying on the High Elves equipping said armor, had learnt to ‘wear’ (although that is stretching the word). Her body was young, around eleven years to a human, maybe more or less – her skin was so dirty and sun browned it was hard to tell, her muscles like steel and lithe as a snake. Her age in reality was seventeen winters, her birth date unknown to her. Her mother was a scout of the High Elves, separated and forced to flee by a troll raid, cornered in the mountains and eventually died leaving her daughter behind. As far as physical development was concerned, still a child. As far as mental development was concerned, an wolf.
	Beside her on the grass, Omega stirred. In the pack, they did not have ‘names’ for each other as such. She was Longlegs, named so for the fact that her back legs were longer than her forelegs (arms). Omega was Omega, because there was only one Omega and that was at the very bottom of the hierarchy. Longlegs herself was only slightly higher ranking than Omega, and striving to get higher. Still, she got along well with the runt. He – although gender meant nothing to her – was smaller than the others, with a fur colour that matched her hair, something she was rather proud of in a vague way. His limbs were skinny and his muzzle scarred, but he was still ‘loved’ within the pack, even if he [i]was[/i] the butt of every joke.
	The pack leaders were White-eye, the alpha male named so for the blue eye on the right side of his face, although the wolves were colorblind and thus named him White-eye. Longlegs had no names for colours beyond the grey scale, and was endlessly confused as to why the other pack members could not see the colours she could. The alpha female was Whitepaw, due to having a white paw. There were many others in the pack too, but she wasn’t so good with their names. There was… Pineresin, named due to her natural smell hinting of resin. There was… Trollsweat, named for the same reason as Pineresin. Then there were Kinktail, Flopear, Scarnose, Blackspot and Darkstripe... But there were so many that looked exactly the same as the last. It confused her. And it probably had something to do with her being unable to attain rank within the pack.
	A howl soared through the air to her pointed ears, which flicked in the direction of the sound. Longlegs herself lifted her head and howled back along with many of the pack, the meaning a mutual “I am here, I am here” headcount and learning of locations of each other. She could only pick out two, Darkstripe and Pineresin, one to the north and one to the west. The others were somewhere to the southeast.
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Ju’linya checked his stock of darts in their little packets, attached to his belt. All in place. He changed his three fingered grip on the dagger resting comfortably in his hand, sniffing the air. He was roughly clad in forest coloured leather armor, feet bare, leaves hanging from his clothing in odd places to break up his outline. His skin was a natural blue-green shade, his hair like the trees and swept back from his face like he’d stood to close to the backfire of a gun. A few rings decorated his chipped tusks, tribal camouflage painted across his face and large nose.
	Ju’linya was one of the troll Shadow Hunters, from the Horde outpost to the south-east by the coast. He had been sent to monitor the high elves, but had become distracted by this little creature, a bedraggled elven youth of indeterminable gender and age, although he judged her to be young. He eyed the wolf at her side carefully. The pack Omega, judging by his size and scars.
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Longlegs twitched her nose and turned her head towards the bushes Ju’linya was crouched behind watching her. But she saw nothing, heard nothing, apart from the smell of troll sweat, leather armor and some sort of herbal concoction. She let out a low, quiet, questioning bark; “Trollsweat?”
Beside her, Omega flicked his ears, rested his head on his paws and continued to sleep.
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Carefully, Ju’linya reached down to one of the pouches and pulled out a dart, then retrieved a blowpipe from his bracer and silently loaded it. He froze, holding his breath as the wolfs ear twitched, then relaxed as it simply shuffled and continued to sleep. The quarry was wary, though. He could tell from the bark; what he’d give to be able to make wolf noises with the accuracy she did!
	A short, sharp puff from his lungs and the dart sped forwards to hit the side of Omega. The wolf continued to sleep, only twitching its slide slightly in irritation, clearly used to having its sleep disturbed.
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She turned her head sharply towards Omega as his side twitched, but saw nothing. The herbal smell was noticeably stronger now, as was the smell of troll. Not Trollsweat… an actual troll. Here! Fight or flight adrenaline pumped through her veins. She stared around, ears twitching and nostrils flaring as her blue eyes sought out the assailant. He was there! She could smell him.
	She rose on her hind legs, stretching up slightly with her forelegs tucked against her chest, almost like a rabbit, ears twitching this way and that. She dropped back to the ground with a thump, warily readying to spring. A small rustle in a bush to her right – the opposite place to the troll – grabbed her attention and pulled. She jerked her head around towards it, starting to creep forwards.
	A yelp of pain – although more from being startled – burst from her lips. She spun around to inspect her left thigh, the smell of herbs almost overpowering. Through her ‘armor’, there was a small dart, feathered at the end and glistening with some sort of substance. She ignored it, instead snarling and leaping the way it had come from, body fully stretched, fingers flexing to claw, scratch, mouth ready to bite.
	Strong three fingered hands closed around her wrists. She kicked out viciously and connected with what felt like a leg, her other leg catching nothing but air. There was a grunt and the hold on her hand loosened a little. Snarling, she bit at the arm holding her hand. Weirdly tasting blood filled her mouth, but she had no time to enjoy the flavour. She kicked again, putting all her force into the kick and springing away, using the troll like a springboard.
	She landed awkwardly on her feet, dropped to all fours and bounded off. Something was happening to her leg. It was going… sleepy. A frustrated growl escaped her lips as she heard the troll following behind, slower than her and wheezing slightly; her kick had caught it on the chest, winding it temporarily. But she needed to escape, no time to work out how well she’d done.
	Oh no! She’d left Omega behind! She darted onwards. Omega could come later, the rest of the pack would see to that. Leave no pack member behind.
	The world was starting to turn foggy at the edges. She was dying! No! She barked with fear, anger and frustration, turning sharply to aim for where Omega had been. Seeing his furry form, still sleeping peacefully, she head butted him in the side. He did not react, instead flopped over and continued sleeping. The world was turning monochrome now, nothing to do with it being night instead of dusk. It was going dark, foggy… Fuzzy and warm. She stumbled from side to side, hearing the footfalls of the troll behind her, then flopped onto her face. Her legs kicked weakly, although her left leg was completely ‘dead’. She clawed at the ground, dragging herself closer to Omega. Then the world went black and soft.