I stood gazing at my prey–a deer–and, subsequently, the family dihen, I began dragging it out of the water, where I wrestled and killed it.

  Trag it had been an unplicated matter. It was the beginning of the mating season, and young adult bucks such as this oeo any measure of safety. The hunt had not been much harder; I pursued my prey till the river, bit its neck hard, and shook it.

  Ung my jaw, I licked the warm blood off my chops, the taste of scarlet liquid pleasant to my tongue. Foods with my current lifestyle teo be on the raw side, particurly fresh ans such as livers and brains, though there was an equal amount of berries and pnts—the joy of an omnivorous body.

  My ears twitched as I sensed something.

  'Huh, what a surprise, a dumb kitty cat…' I mused, not needing to look around to realize that a panther was sneakily approag, its smell protected by the winds, its body camoufged, and its step silent.

  Tragically, it was a tad bit harder for the felio hide your life force; gleaming information from it, such as the species, sex, and size, was easy, so I faked ignorance of its preseh this information. I didn't have to wait long for the cat to take the bait. Exposing my nape spurred the felio jump at the opportunity in ear; otherwise, I would have ta in roots a it to death. I wasn't going to wait hours on end for the pao decide whether yes or not it wao die.

  It was a grave mistake, one I wa to it and the big cat's st. I spun around and delivered a forceful swipe of my left cw to its charging head, its jaws wide open, dispying saber-like teeth, shutting the first shut and f the sed to dig in the dirt. My right paw followed on the first, spping the cat downward, cutting through skin, and scraping on bone as my would-be killer momentum was killed on its tracks. However, it didn't die when its head impacted the root below, snapping its jaws shut.

  The panther was only mildly stunned.

  I was strong but not THAT strong; it didn't matter that it was retively small and thin, a sign of malnourishment. I was still a cub of seven years of age, something probably parable to the rgest breed of dog on steroids, and it anther. Also, I couldn't hit with my full strength.

  But in this sario, there wasn't any difference. My other paw followed right after the first and, with even more strength, hammered down on the overfident kitty's head, breaking the skull and jaw with the morbidly satisfying sound of bones snapping.

  Yet I wasn't done. I could give the finishing bite, but that wasn't smart, as shown four months ago when my throat nearly got ripped out by such a sario. My head was one of my greatest strengths but one of my greatest weaknesses.

  You don't relent and ge a tactic that works, so I only stopped when the skull gained a few dozen new funny angles. Nothing to turn it into an unreizable bloody pulp, but enough that anything short of neancy would make the patack me ever again.

  Anyway… Now, onting the bodies to the vilge, I couldn't carry them both. Not because I wasn't strong enough but because I wasn't big enough to do so effectively without dragging them.

  Being able to shape pnts in any way I desired helped that department. The same was true for everything, but that heavily depended on the days and goals.

  I didn't use magic for hunting since Miel didn't wao, though only for now until I got good enough. It was logical. Better not to fumble or be hyper-depe on it; still, I would use it if necessary or annoyed. It wasn't forbidden, and I loved to use my mana.

  However, the fight was over, and it was time fic to be a solution to my problem.

  I pced a glowing, if bloodied, paw on the grass. Roots busted out of the ground and formed a traption of living wood shaped like a triangur taiwo feet below and with a solid wheel at the front. The final touch air of handles for me to wield.

  It was a wheelbarrow, 'my iion,' at least within the Greenweald tribe and surrounding furbolg groups—a handy and straightforward tool for carrying and transp goods. While we didn't have many tools in those domains, such designs were easy to implement, even for someone like me who wasn't an engineer.

  Optimizing the soil with posting ailizers was one of the things I have ied. It was nothing alien in cepts, but I pushed their uanding above what it was.

  These kinds of 'iions' or 'discoveries' were few and far between; I wasn't all-knowing or a super genius. And we weren't primitive cavemen, far from it, but nothing signifitly more advanced either, and we had magic which killed the need for many civilizational erstones. It was why I was limited; this type of thing took time to settle.

  On a simir line of thought, with my knowledge, particurly of the future, I wouldn't go and scream a demon apocalypse is ing. It was moroni every point for my safety and would undoubtedly fail. I couldn't publically py the prophet and hope to live to tell the tale; for now, at least, without power, I couldn't be that reckless.

  Instead, I had a rough draft of a pn on what to reveal and to whom. It would be someone I could trust, for he was benevolent and wise, reted to my curreence, and likely already knew of my uniqueness pared to the on furbolg. Also, he owerful, respected, and trusted. He was alive as his brother wasn't, and the reted histories of furbolg and kaldorei were crystal clear.

  And I had proof to show I wasn't saying nonsense or was malicious. From then, I hoped it would go reasonably smoothly, but it was Azeroth, and my hopes weren't very high.

  Lifting the deer carcass first, I pced it on the wheelbarrow, and the panther followed right after and began my way back, stopping at a crystal clear river to rid myself of the blood on my paws.

  I paused briefly on my face, the once human one no more than a vague alieion with ever-giures and random bnks pared to what I was currently seeing. It was a strange sensation but not a bad one. I wasn't a Homo sapiens anymore, and this fact ted.

  My face was that of a bear with dark, shiny fur. The shade was of pure bck coal beside the lighter brown around my muzzle, a thick v-shape on my colr, and above my eyes, regur splotches of this fur shade almost mimig eyebrows. Feathers and various beads ad my head reting to my age, p the tribe, and aplishments.

  But the most strikiure was my eyes refleg my mana—no zy eye this time around, too. They were glowing yellowish gold, almost like purified honey, but that was merely an illusion, a literal trick of light with colored light mixing.

  The ter of my pupils was bck with brilliant vermillioreaks, anically shifting to the rest of the pupils. The irises were very light brown with simir streaks but of an emerald of a softer iy but no lesser in brightness, giving my eyes their bright yellow hue at first gnce.

  Their perceived colors were unique iribe, but the glow of the irises and pupils was ordinary. It depended on how much mana a furbolg had in their system, so it was just far dimmer on ones with low mana in their systems.

  I liked it. My neearance was good, my features mixiogether, but there was no point in wasting time looking at myself, and I began to move again.

  The rest of the walk to the vilge was short, half an hour at best. Life was absurd in its abundance here, and I didn't have to walk for hours to find potential food. Fger things, that was aory. Miel and his fellow ursa totemics kept our territory of truly dangerous creatures by fighting aing them, creating a breeding ground for everything else.

  "Big brother!" My ears swiveled at ty, squeaky voices, which were the first things that greeted me; they were from a pair of twihan one-year-old cubs of a lighter shade of fur than mihey were my baby brother and sister, and behind them, gring with murder in his like he was a stuffy grandpa, was Groot; his size has not ged much since his creation.

  "Yes, it's me." I chuckled, lifting one of the two twins, Karhu, and licked his snoot before nuzzling him. Hukar left on the ground, was whining in displeasure at bei out, and began cutely pawing at my leg, promptio scratch the back of her ears. I uand that this was a very rexing a, having personally experie.

  My attention shifted from the cubs to my mother walking out of the house hurriedly, which was more of a massive hollowed trunk than anything fancy.

  "Blessing of the Twin Bears, you're in good health…" She said, taking Karhu before nuzzling and sniffing me and cheg up for any would-be injuries. Why I couldn't fathom, I could heal myself, and if the injuries were so deep I couldn't heal myself, I wouldn't be here. Okay, I could be reckless, but e on!

  But I let her do her little ritual.

  "Ma, as you see, I'm perfectly fine." I whined like a cub my age, then prompted her to look at my hoist with a grin, "See what I brought instead! There won't be any bedding problems for the two furballs… for five or six days. I don't know how Pa does it to keep up with these two's destructive frenzy."

  At that, her worry diffused into pride as she ughed, and we shortly began to take care of the corpses, from bleeding, skinning, and butchering them, with my father helping at the end. Little was to be wasted.

  As to the bedding? There wasn't any other bedroom or room in our abode besides a burrow where food and stuff were stored, and having two little balls of cws ah tearing everything apart teo damage the only sleeping pce. That I did that at their ages was not of the matter.

  And as I said, father was the oaking care of that, but I could help and would. After that, I ate ao sleep.

  But halfway into it, I was stirred awake by the presence of non-furbolg life forces at the heart of the vilge. Nothing to worry about; they were night elves, kaldorei, and I khem.

  They were a small caravan of merts with an equally diminutive number of guards on their way to Astranaar, and they passed by the Greenpaw Vilge to recuperate and trade goods.

  Delicately moving Kahru and Hukar off my body so as not to wake them up, I slipped out of my mother bear hug with the ease only years of experience would give and dressed myself up. Which wasn't much: a well-crafted loincloth, my feathers neckce, and a few other tris.

  Then, I began casting a transtion spell.

  While I was taught Darnasian, both written and orally, with Oakpaw and other shamans, it wasn't a focus, so I kind of sucked at it pronunciation-wise, thanks to my muzzle. It didn't help that it was hard, too. I wasn't a nguage maestro in my past life, with only Frend English as the nguage in which I was fluent.

  Well, a spell was a big word. Still, it essentially spiritually shared my eyes, ears, and vocal cords with the spirits of the aors, making them a shamanic version of Google Transte. However, there was a weakness, if I might call it that. If my aors don't know a nguage, they 't help me.

  It was on sense, but it meant I would have to iure possess a certain level of profi many nguages—a pain in the ass, in my opinion.

  After a hot minute of calling for the spirits' help, I was ready. Hastings myself, I walked out, Groot following me early with his little feet, passing by furbolgs until he grabbed my leg and climbed on my shoulder.

  On the 'pza' was aly crafted caravan surrounded by a small crowd of night elves and furbolg. I called the name of someone, and the man iion came rushing with a bright smile.

  "Good night, Vandel," I excimed with a sleepy yawn to the man iion, stopping a few steps before him and standing close to eye level, showing how our two species' size differences were when I wasn't even in the budding stage of puberty. My voice with the spell had a distinct eg quality.

  It didn't matter that he wasn't a fighter nor that he wasn't the tallest of kaldorei. He remained a night elf; night elves were not small or thin; they desded from trolls, and it showed both ive and positive. How tiny would humans be in parison? The first tact will be something…

  "Oh! Ishnu-ah Ohto, on this beautiful night, Elune has blessed us. Wait, here I got what you asked for." Vandel answered in a soft, measured tohen his long ears perked up, and he immediately went to fiddle through his backpa the ground.

  Taking one sizable leathery scroll, he ha to me with a slight frown of diste.

  "This is a map of Kalimdor, and here is the Greenpaw Vilge and the World Tree, Nordrassil, but I must inform you that sadly, outside of Northern Kalimdor, it's a bit outdated in some areas…" He let out in embarrassment as the map unfolded, and he poi various points ending on an immense gree the left from the ter of the ti below a yellowish mountain rah a pi of pirees, the Stoalon Mountains.

  'Yeah, a tad bit outdated… Just a tad.' I thought sarcastically. At least our territory, Northern Kalimdor, seemed correct from what I remembered if, in a far better state, there weren't any invaders fug everything up or the scars brought by an insane dragon.

  "I'm no historian eologist, so don't take my words for it, but you see this area isn't a grey rocky desert as it is now. It's a lush pin. Apparently, it was the sacred nd of some mortal race." He expihoughtlessly. The use of 'some mortal race,' in addition to his general tones of voice, earned a snort from me. He didn't react to it, either missing it or not uanding my body nguage. I would bet on both.

  And he was ohe most humble.

  Holy, I found night elves insufferable at times, at least the few I have met. It was both subtle and fgrant, and it wasn't on purpose. Their arrogance was a feature, a racial perk. They weren't objectively bad-mao us, the opposite; they were just stuck so far up their asses they could see the moonlight of their goddess from the other end.

  It wasirely unfounded or surprising, but it affected how they treated us, evehere was no reason to. There was no malice, but it was still noticeable and quite annoying. We were fully trusted and on amicable terms; we worked and fought together, but they instinctively saw themselves as above and us as lesser, and I felt it.

  To my dismay, it didn't help that most furbolgs weren't the smartest around; the majority were simple-minded as befitted our primal lifestyle–not stupid, a big difference–even shamans—one of the big reasons behind how the kaldorei ied with us. They didn't pick up the many social cues as a former human I could. It was why probably most elves– outside of us being reclusive–think we were silly stuffed cuddly bear people if we were seen people at all. They saw us as teddy bears, not that we were aggressive or missed in fluffiness, but that was a very na?ve and rose-tinted view of us.

  In addition to that, we furbolgs cked drive and disliked most ge, which was a bit harsh to say when the night elves weren't that much better. Well, they were far worse with their nonsensical society segregated by sex, but that was a different matter.

  A softer way of putting it would be that my species preferred an unplicated life of rexation, habit, and fort. It was reasonable, and I agreed, wanting it to stay this way, but it was unfit for the future.

  It was also why so few became shamans and druids–the two with simir roles beyond one fog on the wilds and the other the elements–even with our inborn affinity toward these paths.

  With that in mind, I was still the only one iribe; not even the chieftain, my martial teacher, or the other shamans seemed to have noticed this behavior toward us. Or to perceive it this way, at least.

  This type of discreet, unaware desden a packet of goodwill wasn't one I hadn't witnessed. But experieng it firsthand to sutensity was irksome.

  Their culture was different, and it was clear that shamans saw a lot of what night elves did and thought as foolish and arrogant regarding their view of themselves. But it was just that, an observation I wasn't in whole disagreement with.

  But how they saw us still wasn't acceptable... It might just be the humaivity I ied from my past life in a modern society, but still. Ultimately, I khis behavior would ge iime with the war.

  I would try to bear it until then, even if it won't be easy, just not to snap when a dumbass push my buttons too much. Well, with Vandel, it was a moot point–he was an ho and good guy if a bit ignorant–but iure, with others, not so mubsp;

  "You aren't wrong, Vandel, but not correct either. It's called Desoce, which used to be Mashan'she in their nguage. Yes, it was and still is one of the taurens' most sacred nd, the raentioned. It's a territory several s and tribes test with the taurs currently inhabiting it after they drove them out." I corrected him, and he happily nodded with a bright smile.

  As for my knowledge, it wasn't explicitly from my past life. I didn't know much about taurens besides the basics, some important characters, and texts like how some tribes deeper South were dying out and, overall, their species wasn't in a good spot.

  Most of the rest was taught to me. The Greenpaw Vilge, while it wasn't one of the closest furbolgs settlements to the Stoalon Mountains–we were around the middle of Ashenvale–remained one of the rgest. So it was to be expected from me to know this much about our fellow beast-folks neighbors beyond the mountains, more so when we weren't on bad terms with the tribes and s of the area. Even if we very rarely ied due to our ecologiiche and because they werely weled by the kaldorei in our forest.

  "Oh… Fasating, you are truly marvelously intelligent. I hardly believe you are so young. My horizon expands with every discussion we have." He said, unaware of how patronizing he sounded even if he was genuine, "And you don't have to worry about paying me."

  I nodded with a slight smile on my snout, "That's great. Thank you, Vandel. I won't fet yoodwill."

  With that map, tless possibilities opened, even if I would have to update it and mark points of importance I remembered. It art of a greater whole. A big grin was on my muzzle.

  Ah, the power of knowledge was in the palm of my paws! Well, a bit of knowledge, but that art of a whole.

  The_Bip_Boop2003

  Thanks, EmilBigErk, Mike Stewart, Dyn Mayfield, BzeSavage, What Ewer, Jeff Fischer, Hope Bain, Vex, Jackietron201, Michael Carter, Ben Lockwood, Kunta, sadomazox, jacob griffin, Mitch, LazyWolf, Velzon, TheFuzzySamurai, Grey Heart, Marc Smith, James Wood, Proxy, shadowSeth, Talberts, Scott, Gal Anonim, PIEGURU8, Thomas Hendrix, léroy jenkins, Tobias, Jose Matos, K, Alex pritchard, Falk Hüser, SirSp, Sam Mbya, Alexander Amann, Name, Man Robertson, Aaron Taylor, Mika Willems, phil, Brian Beard, JchuckS, Wold Layman, Gee Dean, Nateica Burlock, Wildvoid, andre, Eioe, Scarletmenace, Pilot Pirx, er Ja, Carlos head, Thomas Dey, Asura, Gronnr, Lucas Gossett, ton Jenkins, Desote, Tristan Nadeau, Mest450, Ang, Sabypyz, charlie wagner, Hedgeboar, JJ JJ, Linus Bengtssone, Mason for the support it's greatly appreciated.

  [colpse]