Chapter 5- Lessons in Hunting
"The first thing you need to learn is how to shoot anything that hurls a projectile," Pinkerpie lectured as she set out a bow, a crossbow, and a blunderbuss on a makeshift table.
Each weapon was followed by a quiver of arrows, a case of bolts, and a pouch of shot made up of lead balls. Of course then there was the gunpowder and replacements for the flint. Just so I could see the progression of firearms through history I set my pistols and rifle on the table as well, including clips of ammo and belts of bullets.
For the next two hours Pinkerpie instructed me on the parts of each weapon and how to maintain or replace every part when and if necessary. Once we came to my weapons it was my turn to instruct her on the internal working of the pistols, their fabrication, especially the barrel, and their ammo. So far no one had developed or mass produced bullets. The idea of waterproof ammo was very exciting to Pinkerpie, and even more so when she saw how quickly reloading was.
"What do you call these fine weapons," She asked as she pointed a pistol at the target.
"Just line up the sights, and then point and pull," I said softly.
She fired and nearly squealed as she laughed, "The recoil is nothing like the blunderbuss!"
"Exactly," I laughed, "It makes it where you can fire faster with more accuracy. I call the pistols M1911s, and the rifle I call a Winchester 1894. They are based on guns from my world."
"Fascinating!" Pinkerpie whispered as she handled the pistol and then set it on the table, "I'd love to tear it apart and find out how it works, but maybe another time."
After practicing shooting until I was fairly proficient with the bow and crossbow, we spent the least amount of time on shooting the blunderbuss and more time on learning how to load the damn thing. In return Pinkerpie practiced shooting my pistols and rifle. By midday we left our makeshift range and we talked as Pinkerpie showed me how to track the various local animals. By prints on the ground and what certain scuff marks on trees meant.
"Now, sit and get comfortable," Pinkerpie commanded as we rounded a large tree west of Thelsamar.
"What are we doing now?" I asked.
"Learning how to truly track beasts," Pinkerpie answered as she sat cross-legged opposite of me. She looked me up and down and then continued, "The first thing you need to understand is that this world is a world of magic. Almost everyone has some arcane ability, though the best usually become mages or priests, and then there are the others that dabble in what they ought not such as necromancy. Later, I will teach you how to harness the arcane magics within you in order to amplify your shots, but for now let's focus on another magical talent, Beast Tracking."
Looking off to her left she pointed and said, "About a hundred feet that way is a black bear. If you look hard you can see him."
I did look, but I saw nothing.
Smiling, she continued, "It's alright if you can't, though I find this part easier if you can. Now, close your eyes and visualize that there is a bear over there. Once you have, I want you to reach out with your mind. Let it take wing, kind of like you're a bird flying above the trees."
"Or like a bat's screeches and receiving them back like sonar," I added excitedly.
"Yes, that too," She said, though she was apparently confused by what I meant, "Your magic is like a muscle, once you start trying to expand your consciousness it will automatically give your mind the power you need to do so. It will be weak at first but then soon you will be able to feel every animal within a hundred yards of you or more."
We sat there for a long time. For the better part of the rest of the afternoon, and just when I was tired and frustrated, and about to give up, I felt her. A small black bear. She was eating berries. She was young, only months separated from her mother. Hadn't even slept through one winter on her own yet. But, there was plenty of food and she was putting on weight at a very good pace. Now, all she needed to do was find herself a good cave...
My connection seemed to fade away like something was turning down the volume, and then I felt the world tilt. Pinkerpie was right there waiting for me. She caught my head as I collapsed, and then slowly lowered me down into her lap as she whispered, "You did it husband, and on the very first day of training. You really do have some talent as a hunter!"
That was the last I heard before darkness swept over me.
----(!)----
The smell of pine was thick in the air as I awoke. In my previous life, on Earth, Megan and I had lived in a city. Not a huge city, but it was growing, and it was busy. There was always noise. Alarms. Traffic. Sirens. Honking. Even in our apartment there were always sounds of people. Walking. Talking. Yelling. Singing. Fighting. Making love. Then I found myself in Azeroth and within Blackrock it was still always loud, and even when it was quiet there was a constant thrum, like the mountain itself was breathing. Even Thorium Point was loud. But as I woke up all I heard was the wind blowing softly through the grass and trees. The scratch of pine needles and the shake of leaves. The grass sounded like thousands of pieces of paper being softly rubbed against each other, and then there was a sudden scent of honeysuckle interlaced with pine sap.
Fluttering my eyelids a soft small hand combed my hair out of my face as I looked up into large indigo eyes framed by blue lashes and earthy green skin. Pinkerpie gave me a plump lipped smile before saying, "I never knew it would be so hard to not fall for a man that naps with his head in my lap. Who would have guessed? I certainly didn't! I never wanted to fall in love, much less get married, but now here I am. Married, and falling in love!"
"It happens to the best of us," I chuckled.
"I guess!" She sighed heavily before leaning in and kissing me just as soundly as I ever had been by Birdette or Megan.
Her lips were so plump, and soft. She kissed me, and I returned her kiss with one of my own. When we finally withdrew for a breath she whispered, "Wow! I think I'll let you nap on my lap more often."
I chuckled and started to lean in for more kisses but she pulled back with a, "We should head back. It's getting late, and I don't want those racist dwarves to not feed us because we missed dinner time."
Looking around for the first time I realized that it was dusk. The sun was still up, but had disappeared behind the mountains some time ago and night was quickly descending. Climbing to my feet, I offered Pinkerpie a hand up, and then we hurried back to Thelsamar.
The sky was clear and ablaze in a dazzling array of silvery white light as the stars twinkled all around us. The land rolled like black waves of the sea, and the trees reached up like dark fingers as it the land around them were always reaching for those far off twinkling silver specks in the sky.
The smells of pine, oak, honeysuckle diminished as the scent of wood smoke filled the air. Full dark came as we trotted through the forested foothills of Loch Modan. It was more beautiful than any game could ever do justice. The night was filled with quiet, but it wasn't soundless. Just muted. Every now and then there was a soft bird trill high in the tree boughs. Bugs buzzed as they flew by, frogs gulped, crickets fiddled creating a nighttime symphony I hadn't heard since I was a kid camping with my parents on my earth, and over it all there was the soft crunch of old leaves and pine needles beneath our boots.
Then the night receded away from the warm glow of yellow light from lanterns hanging from hooks near porches or entry doors to homes that dotted the hillsides of Thelsamar. There was enough light emitting a small glow from the small dwarven town that it radiated up as if from a crack in the ground, and yet, as we drew closer, what would have appeared as a dark smudge where the earth seemed to fold and crease was now well lit, warm, and inviting.
The buzz of raucous laughter and talk greeted us as we bustled into the Stoutlager Inn. The warm glow of the lanterns outside was a pale and weak thing compared to the Stoutlager's tavern room. By far the majority of the dwarves were men with a full third being women. The younger generation most of the menfolk were black haired and bearded with those with fiery red and golden blond hair speckling the crowd sparingly. The older dwarves had gray or white speckled temples while the oldest were crowned in full heads and beards of white. Of the younger women auburn and fiery redheads outnumbered those with raven black or golden blond the color wheat ready for harvest while the old women were as often as not were as white haired as the men. Where thick beards covered the men's faces the women's faces were fresh and soft with round face or square, and broad thick-lipped smiles or pouty frowns as they reacted to the loud comradery filling the room.
Music played on a guitar, a fiddle, strange metal drums, and what I could only figure might be a base came to a screeching halt as Pinkerpie and I walked into the room. Bright eyes of green and blue and as many of hazel, brown, and auburn stared at me like eagles as I scanned the room. The raucous laughter, good natured banter, and animated talk stopped leaving the room in deafening silence. The waitresses looked at me with mixed expressions of hostility and shock while the red faced innkeeper sucked on his teeth and shook his head.
I suddenly felt anger surge up inside and in defiance I reached out and took Pinkerpie's small green hand and led her to a table in a corner and sat down. Everyone watched, but someone made a comment that someone else laughed at. Conversations sprouted up, but they were muted as everyone was interested in what was going to happen next.
The musicians started up again. The guitarist sang a happy tune about a goblin trying to sell a teapot but finding herself married to a frog instead. As the goblin lost first her teapot and then her coin, Pinkerpie's verdant cheeks blushed. Innkeeper Hearthstove growled under his breath and started across the tavern. He was only halfway across when the goblin in the musician's song lost her clothes and was wandering naked. As the chorus started Pinkerpie laughed as she jumped up on the table and sang along in a surprisingly husky voice!
