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	Lyrah toyed with her braid as she watched the clash from atop the hill.  “This is silly,” came the gravelly voice next to her.  The black-furred taureness folded her arms over her white-furred, scantily-clad torso.  She wasn’t quite as tall as Lyrah, but the large totem strapped to her back merely hinted at her strength.  Her mane was a striking ashen gray, and her green eyes were almost hallmark of a high-ranking grimtotem.  “You’re fortunate to have our aid, no matter how foolishly you use it.  Were you not Magatha’s kin, I would have crushed you myself.”

	Lyrah put on her sternest stare.  “Saratha, I may not truly [i]know[/i] you, but I won’t tolerate insolence!”

	This surprisingly set Saratha back on her hooves.  “This is not a battle worthy of a grimtotem’s demise!  Should one fall-“

	”NO one falls today,” Lyrah bit back hard.

	Saratha huffed, and under her breath she added, “That’s almost worse.”

	”I heard that!” Lyrah returned, cracking a bit more of Saratha’s hardened exterior.

	Lyrah didn’t want the battle to go on for very long, but she didn’t want anyone to expect so much of it was staged.  She took a minute to count to twenty in her head, then turned her attention to the mountainside.  “I hope your shamans are ready.”

	”They will be,” Saratha said confidently.

	The chocolate-furred shaman took a deep breath to steady herself, then reached out and touched the elements with her consciousness.  She raised her hands to the sky and felt the stone of Mount Hyjal.  The cracks that trailed all the way up the mountainside led her to the weakest spot toward its upper wall, which held back a colossal pool of ever-molten lava.  Lyrah Thunderspear dug in her hooves, grasped the stone with her consciousness, and roared as she tore it asunder as if it were nothing at all.

	The earth shook in the wake of the tearing stone, and all combatants froze momentarily, turning toward the mountain.  From high above, a bright orange curtain of lava erupted from the breach and came cascading down the mountainside, heading directly for Ashenvale and Splintertree Post.

	Saratha watched Lyrah work in genuine awe.  The powerful shaman's eyes remained closed, twisting and working with the lava, guiding it exactly where she wanted it to go.  The mountainside yielded to the outpour, and no matter how far it fell, the lava would not cool.  “Now!”  Lyrah cried.

	Saratha fumbled with her horn before blowing it twice in succession.

* * * * *

	The two blows of the horn forced the grimtotems to resist the urge to retreat.  Splintertree shamans scrambled to and fro, forced to leave through the front gates to get proper eyes on the lava flow.  “We have to stop it!  We will all melt at this rate!” An orc called out.

	”Dere aren’t enough of us!” A troll called back.  “Run fo’ ya lives!”

	The troll in question moved to bolt, but Drenan’s spear blocked his path.  “You cannot outrun nature!  We resist or we no longer exist!”  At this he turned to Quela, who appeared completely at a loss at what to do.  “Gather your druids and bring forth nature to aid us!  Trees may burn, but roots might slow the tide down!”

	Quela hesitated, but turned back to look at the lone worgen among the group of night elves.  Nathan bolted to her side and nodded sharply.

	Drenan then turned to face the grimtotem tauren he’d clocked.  “You have shamans among you?”

	The tauren glowered and drew himself to his full height.  “We’re all shamans.”

	”Then help us!  The elements will take us all if you do not!”

	The black-furred bull snorted.  Quela and Nathan had formed a line alongside the other night elf druids and the Splintertree shamans, and their jaws dropped when the grimtotem shamans confidently joined their ranks.

	”Together now!”

	”All at once!”

	”Show them our might!”

	This was beyond Drenan and Talla’s scope, but their eyes, along with everyone else’s, fell upon the druids and shamans.  Green, blue, and golden light erupted from the line, while everyone began to feel the heat of the encroaching lava.  Massive trees bent down and met exploding roots from below, forming the first barriers that the lava crashed into and split into dozens of much smaller streams.  Bursts of chilled air hardened some of the streams instantly, while other shamans stopped them in their tracks and began to push them back.  The entire ordeal carried on for nearly twenty minutes, and when the last traces of fallen lava had cooled and hardened, Splintertree Post remained intact, now overshadowed by a spectacular, abstract structure of cooled lava.

	Between night elf, tauren, orc, and troll, cheers and cries of victory erupted.  Indeed, not a single life had been lost that day on either side.  Night elf embraced tauren and orc in their jubilation… at least until the high of their victory wore down.

	Talla saw it coming first, and the huntress made sure to step in between the potentially-conflicting parties.  “Okay, look, before we get too hasty, let’s remember that we [i]all[/i] had a hand in saving everyone’s hides, alright?  Regardless of who attacked who, we can all come to an understanding, right?”

	”I want you out of Splintertree, orc,” Quela immediately hissed.

	Mastok, the orc commanding the post, let out a deep chuckle.  “Alright.  It’s yours.”

	Nobody had expected such a nonchalant answer.

	A light breeze could’ve blown Quela over.  “Truly?”

	”You kidding me?”  The orc pointed up at the cooled lava.  “We lay claim to [i]that[/i] instead!  It’s higher ground, and it completely encompasses what the Horde stands for!  No fool would attack anyone guarding something that wicked.”

	The night elf visibly deflated.  “That’s… it defeats the purpose, but… I suppose that’s [i]fine[/i].”

	Even the other night elves cheered at their agreement.  Quela looked around blankly, while Nathan gave her shoulder a tender squeeze.  “This is a victory, darling.”

	“I… I guess,” Quela mumbled.

	When the cheers died again, the attention returned to the reforming group of grimtotems.  Several others raised their arms, but the head bull raised one hand.  “You’re no longer worth our time.  Dying in a battle like this would be pathetic at best, and dishonorable at worst.  Leave us walk, and we shall do the same for you.”

	This immediately earned Quela’s ire, and the night elf glared fiercely at the black-furred, shirtless tauren… and an idea came to her.  “Now [i]that’s[/i] a first!  I have [i]never[/i] heard of a grimtotem walking from a battle without taking at least [i]one[/i] prisoner!”
