Zuluhed knew exactly where he stood. Though he hated Rowan to the bone, the Horde was facing a struggle for survival. In the end, he could only turn his burning resentment into curses and swear at Rowan a few times.
Rowan remained utterly unfazed. Lounging in the camp by the river, he held a roasted leg of lamb and quietly gnawed away.
He had to admit, the young woman at Thrall's side was a fine cook. The roast looked, smelled, and tasted wonderful, rich without being greasy, its flavor lingering on his tongue.
"Still eating! Still eating!" Zuluhed stormed back in a fury. He and Thrall had risked their lives to rescue this scheming bastard so they could discuss the Horde's rebirth, not bring back some pampered lord to wine and dine.
Rowan gave Zuluhed a cold glance, then casually picked up the kettle of boiled water and poured himself a hot cup.
With the year drawing to a close, Southshore had entered its coldest season. Protected by the Heart of Azeroth, Rowan no longer feared heat or cold, but maintaining his image as an ordinary leader still required attention to such little details.
"What? You want my help, and this is all the sincerity you can muster?" Rowan said irritably, putting on airs.
They had, after all, once been mortal enemies. As a remnant of the Old Horde, Zuluhed had joined the Freehold pirates and then the Zandalari Trolls to stir up trouble, causing Kul Tiras no end of problems.
The orc uprising in the Hillsbrad Foothills had likewise been a crisis orchestrated entirely by Zuluhed.
This treacherous, cunning orc would stop at nothing to achieve his ends.
Zuluhed had been the first real villain Rowan encountered after leaving his starting village. Now that he had appeared again as