Chapter 13 Chapter Twelve

The days passed, and it had been nearly a week, and Thrall began to count the time by the number of snowfalls, rather than by the rising sun again and again. It didn't take long for him to eat all the dried meat the Warsong clan gave him, though he consumed it sparingly.The traps worked only sporadically, and the further he went into the mountains, the fewer animals he caught, at least the water wasn't a problem.All around him were thin shards of white ice.More than once Thrall was caught off guard by a storm and had to dig a burrow in the snow to hide.Every time, he hoped that he could dig a way out.

The harsh environment begins to ring its grim bells.Thrall's steps slowed down, stopping several times to rest, barely able to get up again.The food was gone, and no rabbit or squirrel had foolishly stepped into his trap.The only way he could know that there were animals nearby were the paw prints or hoof prints that appeared and disappeared in the snow, and the eerie howling of wolves in the distance at night.He began to eat snow and bark to fill his stomach, sometimes even what he couldn't digest. The snowflakes came and went, the blue sky showed its face, gradually darkened, and then the dark clouds covered it and brought more snowflakes.Sal began to despair.He didn't even know if he was going in the right direction, if he would meet the Frostwolf clan.He walked stubbornly, step by step, determined to find his people, or die in this treacherous mountain.

His mind started playing tricks on him.From time to time, Edras?Blackmoore would rush out of the snow, shouting harsh words and brandishing a broadsword.Thrall could even smell the alcohol heavily on his breath.They would fight, and Thrall would fall, exhausted and powerless to withstand Blackmoore's final blow.Only then does the vision fade away, changing from a vague shadow to the silhouette of a harmless rock, or a twisted, weather-beaten tree. Other images are much happier.Sometimes Hellscream would come to his rescue, bringing a warm flame and disappearing when Thrall held out his hand.Sometimes it was the sergeant who rescued him, grumbling and pulling up the disoriented warrior and giving him a thick warm cloak.His sweetest and bitterest vision was when Teri appeared, her big blue eyes full of sympathy, her lips full of warm comfort.Sometimes she even touches Thrall before disappearing.

He kept going until one day, he couldn't go any further.He took one step, then summoned his strength to take the next step, and so on, until his body collapsed uncontrollably.His will desperately forced his exhausted, nearly frozen body to stand up, but the body refused.He no longer felt that the snow was cold.It is ... ... warm and soft.Thrall sighed and closed his eyes. Something made him open his eyes again, but he just stared at the fresh phantom trick with no interest.This time it was a pack of huge white wolves, almost as white as the snow around him.They stood in a circle around Thrall, silently standing, waiting.He looked back, watching with delight how the plot unfolded.Will they rush up quietly?Or were they going to wait until he lost consciousness?Three dark figures came forward from behind the pack of wolves in the void, not one of them who had visited Thrall before.They were all wrapped in thick animal hides, and looked very warm, but not as warm as Thrall felt.The faces of the men were hidden in the shadows at the edge of the wood, but Thrall could see the broad jaws.The size indicated they were orcs.This time Thrall was angry with himself.He was used to the hallucinations of other visits.Now he was afraid that he would die before he recognized the people in front of him.

He closed his eyes and then knew nothing. "I think he's awake." The voice was soft and sharp.Thrall sat up abruptly and opened his heavy eyelids. An orc kid was eyeing him curiously.Thrall stared at the little boy with wide eyes.There are no children in the Warsong clan.After the deadly war the Orcs were brought together and massacred, Grom told him that the children were the first to submit. "Hello," Thrall said in Orcish, and the words were as harsh as a file.The boy jumped away, then laughed. "He's wide awake," said the boy, and hurried off.Another orc came into Thrall's sight; the first was young, and now, no doubt, one who had lived through many, many winters.

All the features of the orc's face showed his age.The jaws were drooping, and the teeth were yellower than Thrall's, many of which had fallen out or broken.His eyes were a strange cream color in which Thrall could see no pupils.The orc was twisted and hunched, almost as short as a child.But Thrall instinctively flinched before the old man's aging appearance. "Well," said the old orc. "You almost died, young man." Thrall felt a sting. "Sorry to bother you," he said. "Our honorable code calls us to help those in need," the orc continued, "but it would be better if our help wasn't necessary. One less mouth to eat."

Thrall was surprised by the rude words, but chose to remain silent. "My name is Drek'Thar. I am the shaman and defender of the Frostwolf clan. Who are you?" Surprise surged through Thrall's body when he heard that this withered old orc was the defender of the entire Frostwolf clan.He wanted to stand up, but was shocked to find that he seemed to be firmly pressed on the animal skin by an invisible hand.He looked at Drek'Thar and saw that the old man was shifting his fingers sharply. "I didn't get you up," Drek'Thar said. "Answer my question, stranger, or I'll reconsider our offer."

Thrall looked at the elder with renewed respect and said, "My name is Thrall." Drek'Thar spat. "Thal! A human language in which there is conquest." "Yes," Thrall said. "A word that means slave in their language. But I am no longer a slave, although I keep this name to remind myself of my mission. I escaped from chains and longed to find my true history." Without thinking , Thrall wanted to stand up again, but was pushed down again.This time, he saw the old hands trembling slightly.This is indeed a powerful shaman. "Why did our wolf friends find you wandering in a snowstorm?" Drek'Thar asked.He turned away, and Thrall realized that the old orc was blind.

"It's a long story." "I have time." Sal laughed.He found himself beginning to like the crazy old shaman.Surrendering to the mighty force on his back, Thrall began to tell his story.About how Blackmoore found him as a baby, raised him and taught him to fight and read.He told of the benevolence of the shaman Terry, the weary orcs imprisoned in the camp, how he had met Hellscream, how he had taught Thrall the laws of the warrior and the language of his people. "Hellscream is the one who told me I belonged to the Frostwolf clan," he finished. "He knew it from the piece of cloth that wrapped me when I was a kid. I can show you—" He fell silent suddenly.Of course, Drek'Thar "sees" nothing.He wished the shaman wouldn't be angry, but Drek'Thar just held out his hand. "give it to me."

Now that the pressure on his chest was gone, Thrall was able to stand up.He fumbled for the broken Frostwolf blanket in the package, and handed it to the shaman wordlessly. Drek'Thar held it in both hands and placed it on his chest.He whispered something Thrall couldn't understand, then nodded. "As I guessed," he said, sighing heavily.Drek'Thar returned the cloth to Thrall. "The cloth is indeed of the Frostwolf style. It was sewn by your mother. We all thought you were dead." "How do you know that—" Then Thrall understood what Drek'Thar had said.He took hold of hope. "You know my mother? My father? Who am I?"

Drek'Thar looked up, looking at Thrall with his blind eyes. "You are the only son of our former chieftain, Durotan, and his brave mate, Draka." Over a meal of stew and tubers, Drek'Thar told Thrall about the rest of his life, or at least what he knew.He led the young orc into his cave, where the fire was burning brightly and the old shaman and young warrior were both warm and comfortable in their thick cloaks.Paka, his little entourage, the one who told him with great joy that Thrall had awakened, spooned up the stew and gently placed the warm wooden bowl in Drek'Thar's hand. The orc ate ​​the stew without saying a word.Paka sat quietly.The only sounds were the crackling of flames and the slow, heavy breathing of Drek'Thar's wolf companion, Sharp Ear.It was a difficult story for Drek'Thar, one he never imagined telling again. "Your parents were the noblest of the Frostwolf clan. They left us many winters ago, on a difficult mission, and never returned. We don't know what happened to them...until now." He pointed in the direction of Boo. "The fibers in that cloth have told me. They were killed, and you survived, raised by humans." The cloth was lifeless, but it was made from the hide of a white goat that lived in the mountains.Because wool once belonged to the living, it has its own definite feel.It couldn't tell the details, but it told of the blood that flowed, the bright red drops that splattered on it.It also told Drek'Thar something about Thrall, confirming the story of the young orc so that Drek'Thar could trust Thrall. He could feel Thrall's suspicion, the remnant of the blanket free to "talk" to him. "What task cost my parents their lives?" the young orc wanted to know.But that was information Drek'Thar didn't want to tell him. "I'll tell you in time, maybe. But right now, you're giving me a hard time, Thrall. You come in winter, the harshest season, and we must accept you as members of your clan. That doesn't mean you'll To be warm, to be fed, to be sheltered without giving anything." "I had no hope of being treated that way," Thrall said. "I'm strong. I'll work hard and help you hunt. I can teach you the ways of humans so you'll be better prepared to fight them. I can—" Suddenly, a series of confused voices came, and De Rektar heard it.Flame was talking to him.He moved closer to hear what it said better. Drek'Thar was stunned.Fire is the most uninhibited element.Even after all the rituals he had used to appease it, it would not stoop to answer his call.But now, Flame was talking to him... about Thrall! He saw in his mind the image of brave Durotan, beautiful and valiant Draka.I miss you all, my old friends, he thought.Now your blood has come back for me, in the form of your sons.A son that even the spirit of fire approves of.But I cannot give him the mantle of leader now, not because he is so young, but because of the contamination of untried humanity! "I have been leader of the Frostwolf clan since your father left," Drek'Thar said. "I accept your request to help the clan, Thrall, son of Durotan. But you must earn your place." Six days later, as Thrall was fighting his way back to the clan's encampment through the snowstorm with a huge fur animal he and the Frostwolves had killed, he wondered if life as a slave could have been any easier. As soon as the thought appeared, he immediately drove it away.He is now with his own people, though they continue to show hostility toward him, treating him with some resentment.He is always the last to eat.Even wolves get food before Thrall.He sleeps in the coldest places, with the thinnest cloaks, worst weapons and hardest jobs.He accepted it all humbly, thinking it was all for a reason: a form of training for him, to prove that he hadn't returned to the Frostwolf clan just to wait to be king...like Blackmoore. So he buried rubbish, skinned animals, gathered firewood, and did whatever was asked of him without complaint.At least in this blizzard, the Frostwolf clan considered him a companion. One night, he asked Drek'Thar about the relationship between the wolves and the orcs.He was familiar with domestic animals, but this seemed to be something else entirely. "It is," Derekatar replied. "Wolves are not tame, don't understand the word like you do. They came to be our friends because I invited them. It's part of shamanism. We have a connection with things in the natural world, trying to be at peace with them Get along. It helps us a lot if wolves are our companions. They hunt with us, keep us warm when hides are low, and warn us of strangers, just as they find you. If our The wild wolf friends didn't find you, you died long ago. In return, we ensure that they can get good food, treat their wounds, and their cubs no longer have to fear the mighty wind eagle that patrols the mountains during their breeding period." "We have the same bond with goats, although they are not as intelligent as wolves. They give us wool and milk, and when we need it most, one of them will give his life. In return we protect them. They can live in Freedom to break this contract at any time, but in the past three decades, nothing like this has happened." Thrall couldn't believe what he heard.This is really powerful magic. "You're connected to other things besides animals, aren't you?" Drei Katar nodded. "I can call snow, wind, lightning. Trees bend when I ask. Rivers flow in the direction I ask them to go." "Since you are so powerful, why do you continue to live in such a difficult place?" Thrall asked. "If what you say is true, you can turn this barren hilltop into a lush meadow. There will never be enough food to eat, and your enemies will never find you—" "Then I will violate the most basic agreement with the elementals, and nothing in nature will respond to me again," Drekatar snarled.Thrall wished he could take back what he had said, but it was too late.He clearly offended the shaman deeply. "Don't you understand anything? Have the claws of human greed stained you so deeply that you cannot see the power of what lurks in the heart of a shaman? I acknowledge these things because I ask, with sincerity I am willing to give something in return. I only petition for the meager demands of myself and the people. Sometimes, I ask for important things, but only if the outcome is good, just, and healthy. In return, I am thankful for these powers and know that they are only borrowed and not bought. They come to me because they choose to, not because I ask! These are not slaves Thrall. They are powerful entities with their own free will , my magical companion, not my servant! Pagh!" he growled, turning away from Thrall. "You'll never know." For several days, he did not speak to Sal.Thrall continued to do his menial job, but as time passed, it seemed that he and the Frostwolf clan grew more distant, not closer.One night while he was filling the garbage pit, a young male orc called out, "Slave!" "My name is Thrall." Thrall said in a low voice. The other orc shrugged. "Thal, slave. Means the same thing. My wolf is sick and soiled its bedding. Clean it up." Thrall growled lowly in his throat. "Clean it up yourself. I'm not your servant, I'm a guest of the Frostwolf clan," he growled. "Oh? Really? With a slave-like name? Here, human boy, go on." He threw a blanket over his head before Thrall had time to react.The cold mixture stuck to his face, and he asked about the stench of piss. Something inside him woke up.Red's rage flooded across his vision, and he roared with fury.Thrall tore up the blanket and clenched his fists hard.He started stomping on the ground, rhythmically, angrily, just like he had done in the ring a long time ago.It's just that there is no cheering crowd here, only a small circle of suddenly quiet orcs watching him. The young orc raised his chin stubbornly. "I say, clean it up, slave." Thrall snarled and threw his fist, and the young man fell, though not without resistance.Thrall didn't feel the flesh and blood under the sharp black nails.All he felt was rage, anger.He is no one's slave. Then they jumped on him and threw him into a patch of snow.The cold wetness shook him and brought him back to consciousness, realizing that he had ruined his chances of being accepted by those people.The thought drove him to despair, and Thrall sat waist-deep in the snow, looking down.He failed.He doesn't belong anywhere. "I used to wonder how long that would hold you," Drek'Thar said.Thrall looked up wearily to see the blind shaman standing above him. "It amazes me that you lasted this long." Thrall stood up slowly. "I have offended my master," he said heavily. "I'll leave." "You wouldn't do that," Drek'Thar said.Thrall turned to look at him, "My first test is to see if you are too arrogant to ask to be one of us. If you come here to claim your birthright as chieftain , we drove you away long ago—and left it to our wolves to make sure you're gone. You need to be humble before we admit you." "However, we also don't honor a man who has been a slave for too long. You are not a true orc if you have not challenged Uso's offense to you. I am glad to see you are both humble and proud, Thrall." Drek'Thar gently placed a withered hand on Thrall's strong arm. "Both qualities are necessary for a person who is about to embark on the shamanic path."