Anger

“Everybody, SHUT UP!”

A deafening wave of silence crashed through the muddle of Taurahe, Orcish, Common, Draenei and Zandalari that had flooded the room.  As three pairs of eyes centered on him, Matosawitko glanced back at each of them.  Two, he knew by heart.  The third...

“Who are you?”

Lith’atal spoke up from the corner, where she held the collar of a straining, growling leopard.  “Dad, this is Cuwixota Wildwind.  Cuwixota, my dad.”

The tall Tauren straightened his brown cloak and regarded Mato with cool interest.  “Matosawitko Plainhoof.  I know of you.  You’re a Browncoat, which is good.”  His lips almost curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his face.  “You were at Camp Taurajo, at the end.  But of course, so was this...” he nodded toward Auryon and spit the final word.  “...’person’.  And now you dishonor our people with your continued friendship with her.”

Mato’s eyebrow quirked.  “Just as you now honor it by barging into a situation you do not understand?  By holding onto false memories of perceived wrong, and placing that wrong on those who were in no way involved?”  He appraised Cuwixota carefully.  “You were barely a cub on that day.  How is it that you think you know so much about what occurred?”

“I was nearly of age,” Cuwixota huffed, drawing himself to full height.  “I would have fought to the death to save my people.  My town.”  His face pinched.  “My family.  But the Alliance took all of that from me.”

“And yet you ran for the hills.”

“Do not judge me!”  The sudden roar shattered the quiet.  Lith jumped nervously, and barely kept control of the leopard as it surged forward.  “You cannot possibly know the pain, the loss I felt that day.  To watch in helpless anger and fear as my uncles, my father...”

“You do not want to have this conversation with me, young man.” Mato’s whisper cut through the young priest’s words.  “You blame the Alliance for their death.  But war always has two sides.  Usually more.  Intrigue upon intrigue.  So many layers, peeled back, that make you cry bitter tears at the fools we all were.”

“But she was there!  She murdered my people!”

“You saw her do this?”  He glanced up at Auryon.

“Well, no...”  Cuwixota shuffled nervously.  “But I saw her there, and that blasted cat.  I saw them attack you.  And I saw her enter the town and speak with the commander.”

Mato turned to Auryon and switched to Common, ignoring Cuwixota’s glare.  “Have you any idea what this is all about?”

She shook her head nervously.  “I caught a few isolated words, but that is all.  Lith said she was bringing a friend over; he came in the door, saw me and started shouting.  Before I could even figure out what was going on, you came in.”

“He is from Camp Taurajo.”  Her eyes widened, but he continued.  “He was a youngling who saw his family destroyed by the Alliance.  He has carried a burden of hatred and fear these long years for those involved.  When he saw you, he remembered your presence there, though he did not know the full truth.  Instead, he has jumped to a conclusion that you were directly involved in the murder of his family”

She shook her head sadly.  “We were pawns, all of us.  Can you tell him?”

“I pray to Mu’sha that he will listen.”

---

Cuwixota drained his mug and leaned back with a sigh.  After several moments he spoke up again.  “Do you think we will ever have peace?  Real, true peace?”

Mato frowned sadly.  “As much as I wish otherwise, I don’t see it happening in my lifetime.  There’s always a new broken trust, a new enemy, a new slight or insult.  No, the only peace will come when there is no one here to break it.  We fight with the Alliance, we fight amongst ourselves, we battle within our own families.  Even a close-knit group such as the Browncoats has our share of drama.”

“Have you been a Browncoat long?”

“No, not long.  Not in the grand scheme of things, at least.  It was in the final days of the Lich King that I met Quickhorn and several of the other Browncoats in Icecrown, and joined their ranks soon after.  Your cloak looks fairly new - I take it you’ve been a recent addition?”

The priest nodded.  “I’ve trailed along behind most of the recent events.  Lith introduced me to some of the other members, and I found myself envying the easy familial attitude they showed.  In a world where family is so scattered and torn by war and stupidity, it’s nice to know there’s still someone who’s got your back.”

The keg was nearly empty.  As the sun broke over the ridge,  Cuwixota traced the letters on the barrel head.  “Chen Stormstout?  Who is he?  That doesn’t sound like a Tauren name.”

Mato shook his head and pointed down the hill to Brewmaster Drohn’s hut.  “Drohn talked of him once.  He’s supposed to be a ‘pandaren’, whatever that is.  Most likely just a myth, though.”