#zalmai

Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went. The clan had been beset from all sides by enemies— ogre, naga, murloc, the Twins.. anyone who had ever had reason to fight the clan fought them. It was chaos, complete and utter madness. The clan had called in every ally they could— former clanmates, allied races, those who owed them favors.. but it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough for Zalmai.

Tezuli had pulled her aside in Orgrimmar and begged for her help, and Zalmai returned. She lent the Shadowtusk her claws, fangs, and when the battle was finally over and the enemies defeated, she lent them her healing.

"SOMEONE GET A HEALAH OVAH HEAH, NOW!!" She heard another troll bark, and she took a moment to catch her breath only to lose it a moment later.

"HURRY— TEZULI’S HURT REAL BAD—!!"

She moved as swiftly as her legs could carry her, even as they began to fail under the crushing worry of what had happened to her adopted daughter. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if threatening to burst through, and as she neared the scene, she pushed worried onlookers out of her way.

"Ah’m a healer, lemme through! Lemme see her—!!" Her voice was a sharp bark, and masked the utter terror that rose in her as she saw the shadow hunter.

Tez was broken. So very, very broken. Her right arm was completely severed from her body, and lay a short distance away. Her Rush’kah was cracked and dented, and blood oozed from underneath it. Her chest and torso armor were torn to pieces, her legs broken.

Zalmai was no stranger to the violence of war, her stomach had long ago been steeled to the atrocities.. but this was different. This was her daughter.. and to see her lying there made her gut twist. She took another few moments to force herself to calm down when new details renewed her panic.

Tezuli wasn’t breathing. The fiery red-orange glow in the eye sockets of the bear skull Rush’kah were gone, snuffed out. Her hands began to shake as she channeled her healing energies into the shadow hunter.

"Oh, god. Please be alive. Please still be alive," She murmured, and her voice began to quaver.

Those who circled the druid watched, though they all shared an unspoken knowledge that Zalmai yet refused to acknowledge. When her magic didn’t close the wounds, when the young Shatterspear refused to breathe, Zalmai grew angry.

"No— no, don’t you do this!! You can’t die!" She snapped.

She spent so much time there, and pushed all her energy into the body. When nothing worked and desperate prayers fell on seemingly deaf ears, Zal forced herself to confront the truth. As she slowly peeled the mask off Tezuli, she saw the distant gaze of the dead.

"M.. my baby, my girl.." Her anger vanished as quickly as it had came, and grief filled her to the brim. "No, no, no.. not my little cub.."

Two warm hands pressed to Tezuli’s cheeks, and the druid leaned forward over her, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, nose, cheeks. Onlookers dispersed as her wracking sobs began. For hours, Zalmai sat in the bloodied battlefield, and clutched the body of her daughter to her chest. Her girl, gone… and all it took was one thought, and Zalmai continued to sob.

If love could have saved you… you would have lived forever.

*******

That Otieno had let Rak’yat even speak to her was a miracle. The pregnant Sandfury held so much anger for her mate, so much hurt. Rak bore it all, though, even if so much of it couldn’t have been helped. She wanted her love back, her heart. She wanted Otieno.

As Otieno’s delivery date neared, Rak’yat tried to spend as much time with her as possible. Her dreams taunted her with horrible visions, nightmares of losing Oti. She pushed them down whenever she saw the hydromancer, and forced herself to be positive and to channel her fears and worries into protecting the woman she loved so dearly.

But in the dead of night, a good month before the child was expected, Oti went into labor. She had been staying nearby in Lunazu and Asa’ti’s hut, and was moved to Ale’s and Drajin’s for the birth, but already there seemed to be complications. Rak’yat was by her side in moments.

The baby wasn’t coming. Oti pushed, and pushed, and pushed, but the baby wouldn’t budge. Rak did all she could to calm her love down, and cooed to her gently, but it only did so much. Instinct told Oti to push harder, and she did.. until she pushed too hard.

Something ruptured, and suddenly there was blood. Otieno screamed in pain, yet unaware of the damage as Ale called for a healer. What seemed like good news in the baby beginning to crown only became the very nightmare Rak dreaded.

Otieno was bleeding out, and no healers responded. In the dead of night, the city was asleep, and all of Ale’s attempts to stem the blood flow herself only provided temporary relief. Rak’yat, however, was panicking. Oti cried out in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks. The cloths laid out for her birthing were now soaked in blood.

But then a new cry sounded. High-pitched and interrupted by gasps. The baby. Ale quickly cut the cord and put the child on Oti’s chest, but both her ears and Rak’yat’s fanned down. Otieno was still bleeding, and badly. Her skin had paled and was cold and clammy to Rak’s touch. Ale barked over the skull for a healer yet again, and continued to try and stop the flow.

"Don’t die… Don’t die on me. Please…" She murmured, with her nose against Oti’s cheek. "You can’t die, maisha.. you can’t.." She hissed softly.

"H… Hiari.. her name.. is Hiari," She replied softly, barely able to hold up the nursing child.

Rak’yat bit her lip. Even Ale, normally unmovable as a mountain, drew in a deep breath to calm herself. The look she gave Rak told her everything she needed to know: Oti was dying. There was nothing they could do but keep her comfortable.

Ale grabbed some spare furs from the side of the hut and draped them around Oti and the baby. Then, she sat on Oti’s other side and rested a hand reassuringly on her arm.

"We’re here, Oti.. we’re here," She spoke softly. Rak’yat choked back tears.

"Mmh…" The pale Sandfury hummed, ".. Hiari.. means.. free will.." Tears brimmed in her own eyes as she weakly stroked the small tuft of red hair on the suckling infant’s head. "My little.. free.. will.." Her voice grew weaker with each word, until finally, it was no more than a whisper on the wind. And just like that… Otieno was gone.

Slipping away.

She was slipping away. Endless waves. Endless water. Endless nothingness.

The sound of the water surrounding her lulled her into an odd comfort. It was cool on her flesh, soothing her heated face. All of the crying she had done made her feel like she was forever on fire. It was nice. She never really minded the cold, anyways. It was easier to warm up than it was to cool down.

For a while, the druid lost herself with the motion of being carried out to sea. She had waded out into the waters, last she remembered, early in the morning. With how the sun was tipping over the horizon, it was evening. A full day she had spent just floating. Floating and forgetting everything.

It was nice to not have to worry about anything. No hurt. No child. No hunger. No sadness. Just… a pleasant numb feeling. She didn’t feel left behind. She didn’t feel neglected, or overworked, or taken advantage of. She didn’t feel under appreciated or overpraised. Just nothing.

She didn’t worry about dinner, or cleaning, or healing, or where her mate had disappeared to. What her child shoved in his mouth. What trouble her friends got into. Simply nothing.

And as she floated, the druid turned to nothing. The water lapped at her form. She, too, started to become the water. Became the nothingness that cradled her.

It was just her.

The sky.

The waves.

"Ehn… He looks hungry, girly… Ya’ okeh?"

The voice was foreign. It shattered the nothingness. It brought her back. Once again, she was Zalmai. Once again, her heart hurt. Once again, she was on the shores of the Echo Isles, staring out blindly to the waters. And once again, all the worry, the stress and the fear came rushing back.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Those who knew Tanaris, knew that even a single cloud in the sky was not a good sign. So when M’chumba spotted just a whisp of a cloud? She wandered on home. Something in her gut told her to check on her family. And so, she did! Through the vast, sandy city she trotted, hears flicked up and listening. There was an eerily somber air to Zul’Farrak. Furrowing her brows, the little sunshine child picked up the pace. Outside her big ol’ hut, there were dozens of Sandfury gathered, all garbed in black.

Her pit lurched.