May the winds guide you, Ezra

She reined in her undead steed, just short of the end of the docks at Ratchet, to see an unusual boat moored at the wharf. There she saw several burly orcs and an aged tauren shaman as they helped a large tauren hunter ease to a seat on the deck of the boat. Pain and exhaustion were clear on the hunter’s face, but also his look of deep appreciation for the assistance. He nodded his silent thanks to the orcs, who clapped his shoulder in camaraderie, then took their leave to return to their work on the docks.

Darcine remained silent on her horse at the end of the dock, as the shaman spoke a few hushed words with the crew of the ship. From this distance, they appeared almost ethereal, slim and elven-like. The shaman turned back, kneeling next to the hunter sitting on the deck. They spoke softly a moment, then the shaman began humming quietly, casting pinches of incense around the hunter. The exhausted tauren closed his eyes, apparently finding comfort and strength in the song. After he was done, the old shaman embraced the young, wounded hunter for a moment. He then stood, and stepped onto the docks.

Others had gathered as Darcine watched. Most remained respectful and quiet, asking any questions they may have in low tones. What few loud mouths there were attracted the attentions of the orcs working the docks and were quickly seen off.

Freeing herself from her anchor, the boat pulled away from the dock and eased through the waters, towards the open sea. The shaman saluted his tauren brethren onboard as Darcine and those around her lifted their arms in silent tribute to the hunter. Taking his bow in hand, the tauren hunter responded by lifting his weapon high in thanks, as the boat slipped away into the distance.

Ezra Chatterton passed away this past Monday. May he always walk with the Earth Mother.
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