Elanos

”Torah go bwoo!”

Blink.

”Torah o go bwoo?”

Blink blink.

“Uh...What?”

“Torah.”
“Go.”
“Bwoo!”

The Crossroads are empty this morning, an almost chilling wind taking its time to pick up some loose paper and other rubble lying about. On a log, the Tauren sits. A wide-brimmed black hat has taken its seat on his head, the black two-hander with the red markings is leaning against the wall. The wind picks up the heavy cloak he is wearing, along with the dust and dried blood.

And in front of him, stands the child. It is an orc, a female no younger than three or four, but seemingly mastering the art of coordination already. She stares directly into the icy blue spheres that are the eyes of the Tauren.
She points at him.

“Torah.”
“Go.”

And by tossing her arms out to the sides while baring her few teeth, she roars and shouts:
“Bwoo!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Tauren?”
She nods.
“Go?”
She nods.
“Boom?”
She sighs.
“Blue?”
Sighing again, and shaking her head she does down on all fours and starts crawling around while growling.

“Bear.”
A gleefull laugh emanates from her mouth as she dusts off and nods.

“Tauren go bear...Allright.”

Eyes of the hopefull.

Fingers melt together, nails turn into claws and fur sprouts out of the arm. The markings that indicate me a druid appear, as if they’re part of the fur itself.

“Bwoo! Mo bwoo!”
“More bear?” Sigh.

The inability to speak is nothing but a lesser flaw of the animal shapes. A major one is the rush of adrenaline surging through my veins when leather melts into my body, thick as kodo hide, tough as a rock. The presence of another mind, the bear. Always worrying, keeping and eye on every single movement of the surroundings. Such is the mind of the protector. The feeling of posessing complete control over of the brute power held by one animal.

Let them come. Let them all come. I shall stand in their way, block their path.

Hugs are evil. Especially when children hug you, the sheer enthusiasm and purity of the hug itself numbs my mind. And blocks my nose, as she hugs the head and more importantly the nose of my bear shape.

A quick flip of the head, and the girl crawls around on the back of the bear, finding a pair of ears which she hold onto.

“Bwoo go foosh!”

Not the ears... Ah well, from Tauren to riding animal in a few moments.

Fair enough.

The bear is curious.

The Tauren merely smiles, in his mind.

Blacktalon

Two minds in one... I like it. *nod*

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"Shamans are like a battered wife, still hanging around regardless of abuse, hoping that someday things will get better."