Tonight's blog entry contains a brief excerpt from my entry in Blizzard's short story contest. Expect to see it published in full here if I don't win after their judging is over. Ah, and if you don't know what a "tauren" is, this is taking place in their Warcraft franchise story world. Think "Native American minotaurs" and you've pretty much got it. Enjoy!
The great gray tauren pushed through the snow, his usually stoic features twisted with distress. Behind him other tauren sent by the Elders accompanied him, all bearing heavy packs, lanterns, and ropes. Flurries fell around the small party, at times driving them back in their paces, but these gusts of snow were inconsequential.
For too many months the pass that linked Eyota’s home to the great plains of Mulgore had been blocked, impenetrable by anyone. The snow had fallen that winter like it never had before, storming and raging with a fury that no amount of prayers or practical efforts could alleviate. It was the snow that had isolated the tauren camp from the rest of the world, and what burned Eyota’s thoughts until he could no longer think with reason was that his family had been trapped there all this time without him.