A wind blows on the plains...

Ravenholdt and Twisting Nether
It kicks up some dust around a kodo-hide tent. Inside, an old tauren snores loudly. His fur is a dark black, but a few gray whiskers sprinkle around his mouth. His wide black horns move slowly with his deep breaths. As the wind blows dust into the flaps of the tent, he awakes with a start. He looks around, and reaches quickly under the centaur rug. He pauses, and cocks his head, as the winds continue to blow. He pulls his hand out from under the rug with a an old kodo-horn pipe, and taps the partially burned peacebloom still inside the pipe, and then stands up stretching.

Carefully, groggily, as if he hasn't moved in many years, he steps out of the tent and sits heavily next to the remains of a campfire. He raises the pipe to his face, and waves the fingers of his other hand over it, bringing a small spark of flame to the dried peacebloom petals. He breathes heavily, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his large flared nostrils.

He cocks his head again, as the winds continue to blow. Slowly he starts nodding, and looks down at the old tabard he's never taken off. Faded blue fur on the edges, a dark brown that has seen better days, and a bull's head of questionable quality.

He smiles, and looks up into the sky. The wind kicks up.

Quietly, as though repeating something he heard from somewhere else, he says to himself in Taurahe, "we endure."

He stands up, looks to the horizon, and begins walking.

The wind continues to blow.
Hopefully those whispers on the wind mean well. Nice read =)

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