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thespoilsofazeroth · 7 years ago

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Strawberries and Mageroyal

What a week I’ve had! This has definitely been one of my most interesting Winter Veil celebrations, including that time that Crow got his horns stuck in that tree after sneaking a bit too much of Nana’s eggnog. Good times!

Like I said in my last entry, I decided to try and find that Elf that I met in Northrend, since I had promised him a cask of my newest brew. I ended up bringing two casks, as a Winter’s Veil gift, since they were so late in coming. That didn’t cause too many problems on the trip across the sea, since I’m a bona-fide war hero now! The Warchief told the Goblins that they have to give free rides to soldiers, even off-duty ones, which was nice of him. I don’t think the Goblins like it very much, though.

The voyage was mostly uneventful, even though I expected the whole airship to explode or catch fire or something at any moment. Luckily it didn’t, though I’m definitely going to go to Moonglade instead on the return trip. I’m not setting foot on another of those contraptions if I can help it!

The only Zepplin to the Eastern Kingdoms went to Tirisfal Glades. Even though I was sort of in a hurry, I took a quick detour to the ruins of Lordearon. It was really beautiful, in a sad kind of way. I had heard that the Forsaken live (is that the right word?) in the ruins, but I saw barely any of them. It’s a shame, I’ve also heard that their queen, Sylvanas, is rather pretty. Although technically pretty wasn’t the word that they used.

I managed to find a little town not too far from the ruins that had a flight master. I had to pay him almost three times the normal rate to get a second bat (for my casks) that was tied with a long lead to the first. At that point I was glad to pay though; I had seen more than my fill of the Forsaken.

The flight was easy going, for the most part. I’ve never really liked riding, the saddle chafes and my robe or skirt tends to ride up without me noticing. However, I foresaw this eventuality, and brought pants. I wasn’t about to give any passers-by underneath me a free show!

I landed just outside of Silvermoon right as dusk was falling. I decided to sleep out in the woods that night; the forests of Eversong are almost as legendary as Teldrassil, and I wanted to listen to what the trees had to say. It was even more beautiful than I’d imagined, but even more so in the morning sun. If I hadn’t had an errand to run, I could have spent weeks just wandering among the ancient groves.

I made sure to bathe well and comb my mane, since everything I’d ever heard about Silvermoon made it out to be really picky about that sort of stuff. I also brought Nana’s old feast-day dress, the one that her nana made, and some Mageroyal perfume that I made myself. I put it on just like Nana taught me: a dab under each ear, the insides of my wrists, and between my legs. I was never sure if that last one was a joke of her’s. She was cackling so hard when she said it, but just to be safe I always put it there anyway.

I got into the city without much trouble, by then I’m sure they’d gotten used to the rest of the Horde going in and out. It took much longer than I thought it would to find the Elf I was looking for though, no one I spoke to to ask for directions seemed to speak Orcish!

I finally tracked him down with a barely remembered last name: Winterwine. Apparently his parents own an Inn! I should’ve guessed, he always astounded me with how much he could drink, for such a little guy.

When I finally found the Inn, they were having a party, a Winter’s Veil party no less. I couldn’t believe my luck, I was already dressed up, and I had a cask of my best brew under each arm; I was ready to party!

When I entered, everyone got quiet for a minute. I guess they weren’t expecting anyone to bring their own beer, or something. I saw the Elf I had come all this way to see over by the bar, clearly not needing his gift. So I set the casks on the bar and asked the barkeep, a rather shy Death Knight, to tap them and let anyone have some who wanted some.

When I turned around and looked over the room, I saw that the Elf cutie that I wrote about back in Northrend was there too! She was over in a corner, away from the rest of the party-goers. I guessed that she didn’t want to be bothered, so I kept my distance. But I think she caught me staring more than once.

I decided that I needed something to occupy my attention, so I challenged the Elf I had originally come to see, Kelaniel, to a drinking competition! Obviously I emerged victorious, but he was a good sport about it. I think. My memory gets a little hazy after about the fifth or sixth mug.

I definitely remember dancing, and… the smell of strawberries. Other than that, it’s all a blank, until the morning. Earth Mother forgive me, the morning…

I woke up in a bed upstairs in the Inn, the cute Elf still asleep next to me. Her hair still smelled like strawberries. Both of our clothes were scattered around the room. It didn’t take too long to piece together how the night had ended.

I still don’t know exactly what happened. The Elf grabbed her clothes and left as soon as she woke up. I suppose it’s for the best. I’m going to have to keep that night a secret anyway; no bull, or at least no bull worth speaking of, could ever want me if they knew I had lain with an Elf.

I think I’m going to stay in Eversong for a while, try to clear my head before returning home. It’s my responsibility to make sure that the Blackfeather line is secure, and I can’t be distracted when I make my choice.

But still… I can’t get the scent of Strawberries out of my mind.

Dear Diary,

I know it has been quite some time since I have written here. Since Northrend, everyday life has seemed too mundane to note down. That was, until now.

My old classmate Aumary invited me to a Winter’s Veil party at a friend of hers. It was a lower-class affair, a room full of drunken singing and dancing. Still, watching drunk fools make idiots of themselves is preferable to Mother’s “little get-togethers,” as she calls them, any day of the week. I didn’t speak much with the proprietors, the Winterwines, but they seem friendly enough, and know enough to leave me be when I wish it. Aumary quickly disappeared into the crowd after we arrived, so I sought out an unoccupied booth to watch the party unfold.

For most of the night, all was more or less normal. The bartender caught my eye, a rather large and somber specimen with an unusual eye color. I spent enough time in Icecrown to recognize a Death Knight when I saw one, though I couldn’t for the life of me tell why he would be working in a place like this. Still, I made sure to keep my staff close, just in case.

About halfway through the night and my third glass glass of wine, things got a bit more interesting. Stooping through a doorway much too small for her, the object of many of my nightly fantasies joined the party unannounced, with what appeared to be some kind of barrel under each arm. Her entrance caused quite a stir; very few of the Sin’Dorei have been in the same room as a Tauren.

She looked different than she did in Northrend. She was wearing a rather old-looking dress that had obviously been patched many times in its lifetime. Her braids were a little longer, and her mane was less tangled. Her eyes were the same, though. Wide and thoughtful, they seemed to express what she was feeling better than the rest of her face. Once more the surprising feeling of longing hit me when I saw her; how can she elicit these feelings from me when we’ve only spoken a few words to each other?

I have no doubt that she recognized me as well, as I saw her look at me several times throughout the night. Despite my silent wishes, however, she remained at the far end of the room. Eventually she got into some kind of drinking competition with one of the patrons at the bar, a blue-haired man with a striking resemblance to the bartender. I could easily see her celebration when she won from across the room.

Most of the night continued normally from then on. There was one moment when she broke a table; apparently they weren’t built with a dancing Tauren in mind. As she was dusting herself off, she locked eyes with me, and seemed to remember I was there. She made her way over to my side of the room, with many Thalassian curses following her as she pushed people to the side.

I must confess that I had expected her to smell, well, like an animal. What I was not expecting was for a delicate perfume of Mageroyal to follow her across the room. She seemed to feel in some way very similar to how I feel, as she was clumsily making advances towards me, rather crude ones at that. I’m sure she thought she was very persuasive. She was obviously very drunk, and maybe I had a few more than was good for me, but my mind was clear, my training was good for that, at least.

No, my decision wasn’t influenced by the drink as much as the freedom I felt at that moment. I was out after dark, drinking in a place that my mother wouldn’t be caught within a hundred meters of, flirting with a member of what my father would call a “lesser race,” and I was having the time of my life. The draught of freedom goes to the head better than the strongest drink.

I paid for the room, and I took her upstairs. I could barely wait to even close the door. But by the stars, was it worth the wait. It was everything I’d fantasized about and more. She was so huge, and everywhere, and… she smelled like Mageroyal. I have no idea what she expected to happen when she got ready that morning, but if I had to guess she applied that perfume everywhere. I suppose it must have been coincidence, her wearing the scent of my favorite flower that night. There was no way she could have known, certainly.

Unfortunately, the vivid memories of that night proved too much for me when I awoke in the morning. I’m ashamed to say… that I ran out on her. I didn’t even speak a word to her.

I suppose she must hate me now, I certainly hate myself. I just wish I had a chance to talk to her, to explain, to…

The Innkeepers. She came to see them, they must know where I can find her. They’re going to tell me or I’ll bring their entire stinking Inn down around their ears.

Ravenwen holds herself on her hands and knees, closely examining the plant in front of her nose. The long, serrated leaves were spotted with red and turned completely red near the tip. From the stinging in her hand after she tried to pick it, as well as the shape of the leaves, she guessed it was some variety of thistle, though she had never seen any thistle with such unusual colors. Careful not to let her muzzle brush the leaves, she tilts her head to bring her eye closer to the unusual plant.

“We call it Bloodthistle.” Raven jumps, almost poking her eye on the edge of a leaf, as a sudden and unexpected voice calls out to her from behind. She looks around, chagrined that she had been so intent on examining the plant that she had completely missed the other’s approach.

Standing about five feet behind her was the cute Elf, the one from Northrend, and more recently, the party. Raven scrambles to her hooves, embarrassed that she had been caught bent over like that by the woman who had run out on her.

“What are you doing out here?” She indicates their surroundings with a large hand. They were deep in Eversong Woods, far from any settlements of Elf or Troll.

“Looking for you actually. Look, about the party-”

Raven interrupts, “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m sorry. We were both drunk, but it doesn’t excuse my actions. I put you in an impossible position, and you were entirely justified in running out before I could try and coerce you any further.” Val surprises her with a sudden peal of clear laughter.

“Coerce me? Is that what you remember? I took you to bed, you delightful idiot! If I hadn’t wanted you that night you’d still be standing frozen in that Inn!” Raven stares at Val, confused and perhaps a little hurt by her use of the word ‘idiot.’

“But then why did you-”

“Why did I run out?” Raven nods. “That’s a bit harder to explain, and that’s why I’m here. To apologize to you. It was wrong of me, we should have had this conversation that morning, and I’ve regretted it since I closed the door of that room behind me.”

“What conversation?” Val takes a breath and steels herself for the next words.

“I- I want to see you again.” Raven raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“What do you mean? You’re seeing me right now, aren’t you?” Val sighs in exasperation.

“No I mean-”

“What do you mean?” Val groans and strides forward. She grabs one of Raven’s low-hanging braids and yanks on it, pulling her face down the intervening feet to Val’s. She throws her arms around Raven’s thick neck, grabbing her mane for better purchase, and kisses her deeply on the mouth.

Raven surprises her then, by wrapping her thick arms around Val’s thin waist and straightening up, lifting Val into the air in the process. They both melt into the kiss, both of them exploring this brand new territory together.

Eventually Val pulls away for air. She leans her head on Raven’s broad shoulder, and plays with her mane with one hand.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Raven responds with a deep chuckle.

“I thought you might need a little ‘coercing.’ And didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Of course I did! Though I think I might snap in half if you keep holding me up like this.” Gently, Raven lowers Val until her feet touch the ground, then releases her grip on her waist.

“You could just ask next time you know. How would you like it if I pulled your hair?”

Val replies, “well, that depends, doesn’t it?” and prances away from the suddenly very confused Raven.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Raven pursues her through the woods, crashing through the golden sunlight after the laughing mage. Val, for her part, keeps the chase going as long as possible, blinking away just as Raven looks to catch her. Eventually, though, she seems to be just too slow, and Raven circles her muscled arm around her waist once more.

“Didn’t you say something about having a talk?” Val laughs and blows a loose curl out of her face.

“Of course! I was just hoping we could talk here.”

“Where…” The question dies in Raven’s throat as she looks around. They stand on the bank of a river, at the base of a tall, thin waterfall. In the distance, downriver from where they are, Raven can see a squat, round tower with flying staircases in the Silvermoon style.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Val nods.

“My brother used to bring me here to have picnics when I was a little girl. Recently I’ve been coming here to be alone, when I need to think.” She sits on the soft grass. Raven follows suit.

Val twirls a strand of her hair around her finger nervously, then finally says, “I’ve been wanting to ask…”

“Yes?”

“Was that… your first time?”

Raven heaves a sigh and leans back on her elbows. “Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“18, as of this past summer.”

“Really?” Raven looks at her out of the corner of her eyes.

“What?”

“It’s nothing- I thought you were older, that’s all. Turns out you’re the same age as me!”

“So you’re 18 as well?”

“Mhm, since last month.” Raven looks visibly relieved.

“Thank the Earth Mother.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I can never tell with Elves, you know? Sometimes I can’t tell if one’s 13 or 103.” Val throws her head back and laughs.

“So what, you were worried I was an old woman?”

“Or that you were a child.” Raven chuckles. “I’m not sure which would be worse, to be honest.”

‘Well you don’t have to worry about it, now do you?” Val smiles at Raven, who gives her a sad, weak smile in return.

“Yes… about that… I’m afraid the answer is no.”

“No?”

“No, I can’t keep seeing you.”

“Why not??”

Raven mentally sorts through the many possible reasons she has been using over the past few days to try and convince herself of this very thing. Finally, she settles for the inevitable heart of the matter.

“I have a duty to my clan; I must return to Thunder Bluff to find a mate and bear his children.”

“And why must you do this?”

Raven looks chagrined. “I’m the only woman capable of bearing children left in my clan.”

“What do you mean ‘left?’”

Raven tosses her head and snorts. “What does it matter? There’s no one left but me to do what has to be done.”

“And why does it have to be done?”

“I can’t let the clan die out.” Raven pushes herself to her hooves.

“Then what was all that back there?” Val waves her hand in the direction they had come.

“I got caught up in a fantasy. It was wrong of me, and unfair to you. I apologize.”

“Didn’t… didn’t our night together mean anything to you?” Raven looks at her with an uncharacteristically stony face.

“I don’t remember our night together, and it would be best if you forgot, too.”

Val jumps to her feet as tears start to stream down her face. She growls a word of power and stomps her foot on the ground, sending a shockwave of ice in all directions, freezing Raven’s hooves to the ground.

“I’ll never forget that night and neither will you.” Slowly at first, but gaining strength, Val begins to speak. She tells Raven everything that happened that night, how it made her feel, how it still makes her feel. She pours all of the longing she has been feeling ever since they first met in Northrend into her voice. So heartfelt are her words, and so intently does Raven listen, neither notices when the ice melts, freeing Raven’s hooves.

Raven stands with her back to Val for a long time after she finishes. So long, in fact, that Val began to worry she had gone too far.

“I really… mean that much you you?” Val almost jumps at the sudden break in the silence.

“What?”

“I mean enough to you, that you would disregard everything your parents ever told you… to be with me?”

“Yes.”

Raven falls silent again.

“How much do I mean to you?”

She looks back at Val, who is surprised to see massive, glistening tears running from the corners of her large eyes.

“More…” She stops and looks away, clearly uncertain of what she’s about to say.

“More what?”

“More than Duty.”

Val smiles, tears springing from her eyes once again. She walks to Raven’s side, and rests her hand on one huge forearm.

“We’ll be outcasts.” Val looks up at her lover and laughs at the statement.

“Good, I’m tired of high society.”

“What will our families think?”

“Who cares? Either they accept our love or they don’t. We don’t need their approval.”

“Love… I had given up on love.”

“I never believed in love, until I met you.” Raven takes Val’s hand in her own, the delicate, perfect fingers in her thick, calloused ones.

“So…” Val bites her lip and curls a strand of hair around a free finger.

“Yes?”

“You said I should just ask next time, right?”

Raven laughs, tears forgotten. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

“Well, I’m asking.”

She turns towards Val and kneels, bringing her face down so its almost touching Val’s. Once again Val throws her arms around her neck, pulling herself into the soft fur and an even softer kiss. Raven replies by wrapping her own arms around Val’s shoulders and waist.

Eventually, Val once again has to come up for air. She wrinkles her nose.

“I liked how you smelled before better.”

Raven grins sheepishly. “I haven’t taken a bath today.” “Well we can’t be having that, I expect my lovers to be fresh and clean.”

“Well then let’s fix that, shall we?”

“We?” Val barely has time to ask before Raven hurls them both down the slope into the river.

Val pushes her way back up to the surface next to a laughing Raven.

“Now look what you’ve done, my clothes are all wet! And my hair! Ohhhhh do you know how long it took to learn the spell to make it perfect like that? Now I have to cast it all over again!”

At this, Raven starts to laugh even harder, to which Val responds by splashing at her.

“This is not funny!”

“You have to admit, it is a little funny.”

“Oughh… Fine, maybe it is. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for this.” She starts to swim towards shore, Raven following, slowly walking along the bottom. Val drags herself out of the water and shakes her arms, sending droplets everywhere.

“Oh great. And I’ve forgotten the spell for drying clothes. Wonderful.”

“Well it’s no good wearing wet clothes,” Raven replies, shaking her head to dry her mane somewhat. “It’s the middle of winter, if you haven’t forgotten.”

“I haven’t, but I’m not about to run about naked. Besides, that’s almost as bad as wet clothes.” Raven was already pulling her robe off over her head.

“And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly covered in a thick hide of hair.”

“No, but I am.” She pulls the robe off and hangs it on a tree branch to dry, showing off her simply-made undergarments and thick physique in the process.

“And how exactly does that help me?” Val is suddenly very unsure of where to look, so she determinedly looks off in the middle distance, with only a quick glance at Raven now and again.

“We find a nice sunny spot to lay down and I hold you close to keep you warm.”

Val blushes furiously. “This was your plan all along wasn’t it.”

“I’ll admit it. To be honest I want to see what you look like; I only got a brief glimpse when you ran out the door. Just call it payback for pulling my hair and making me chase you halfway across the forest.”

Still blushing tremendously, but unable to deny that she was starting to feel a chill set into her bones, Val awkwardly starts to fumble with the closures on her dress. Despite the chill, she can also feel a rising sense of anticipation. Lying on the grass in Raven’s arms did sound tremendously inviting. Finally, she released the last closure, and let her dress fall to the ground in a wet heap.

Whereas Raven is broad-shouldered and well built, with an ample amount of both fat and muscle lining her frame, Val is thin and lithe, a lack of muscle definition in her arms showing her easy lifestyle as well as her perfectly cared for hands and feet. They both found the other irresistible.

Raven gently takes Val’s dress and hangs it up next to her robe. “So shall we try and find a nice sunny spot?”

Val nods and draw close to Raven, hoping to draw some warmth from her bulk while they walked. It didn’t take long to find a secluded glade, with the clear winter sun shining through the gap in the overhead foliage.

Raven pulls away from Val and sits in the center of the glade, then holds her hand out for her to take.

“Wait… I want to show you something first. But you have to promise to… to do the same for me. Ok?”

Raven nods, confused but curious. Val steadies her breathing, and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. She rotates her arms back around and lets it fall to the grass, before wiggling her underwear down to her ankles and stepping out of them. She stands, legs apart and hands on her hips, cold, blushing, and perhaps a little afraid that Raven wouldn’t like what she saw.

She had nothing to worry about. Wordlessly, Raven stands and pulls down the simple cloth wrap that serves to hold her breasts, catching her underwear with her thumbs in the process, leaving both garments tangled around her hooves. She steps over to Val, takes her in her arms, and together they fall into the soft grass, once again reminded of the sweet scent of strawberries and mageroyal.

I know it’s not technically the right season for Winter’s Veil stories, but it’s valentines day, so close enough! ~Mod Orky

#Heimo's Stories #Ravenwen Blackfeather #Valyara Starfall #WoW #OCs #Tauren #Blood Elf

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thespoilsofazeroth · 7 years ago

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Singed Feathers

“Healer! Is there a healer here?” A Nightborne woman carrying a small, limp bundle staggers into Shal’Aran, disrupting the quiet activity as dozens of Nightfallen stop whatever they are doing to look to the entrance. Ravenwen takes off towards the woman, her lumbering sprint bringing her quickly to where the emancipated elf stands.

“You need healer? What is problem?” she asks in heavily accented Shalassian, as she digs her hooves into the ground to halt her forward momentum, coming to a full stop right in front of the Nightborne woman and her burden. Though tall, even for one of the Shal’Dorei, she is nowhere near as tall as Raven, and has to crane her neck back to look her in the face.

“The child, help the child!” The woman lifts the bundle, showing it to in fact be a young boy, his pale blue skin marred by a glistening green and red burn mark stretching down his left side from his face, past the sizzled stump that was once his arm, down almost to his hip. The boy’s remaining eye is closed, flicking to and fro beneath its lid as his chest rises and falls in short, shallow breaths.

Raven mutters an oath under her breath, taking in the full extent of the damage. She gently lifts the boy’s limp form from the woman’s arms and strides further into Shal’Aran, beneath the shimmering branches of the Arcan’dor. She barely notices as Val takes the quivering woman by the arm and leads her off to one side, focused as she is on the boy. She sets the tiny form at the base of the enchanted tree, the pale blue-white light illuminating the ghastly wound in sharp detail.

She would prefer the Dreamgrove, the natural power there would make healing this wound much simpler, but it is too far, to long of a ride. He would never make it. And it would be impossible to bring him with her through the Dreamway. No, here will have to do. She gently lays her hand on his forehead, her palm easily covering more than half his face. The fevered, sweaty flesh feels hot enough to burn, and she has to resist the urge to pull her hand away. She splays her other hand on the ground, causing tiny yellow flowers to sprout in the cracks of the stone floor as she draws upon the Earth Mother for strength.

Val softly pads up behind Raven, careful not to distract her. “How is he?”

“Not good. This burn… it’s felfire.”

Val draws a sharp intake of breath. “Felfire… are you sure you can do this? Damage from the Fel doesn’t fade easily.”

Raven lets out a hoarse laugh. “No I’m not, but I have to try.”

“I know.”

“Could you get me a couple of cushions? This is going to take a while…”

Val nods, then trots off, returning with a pair of soft silken pillows, one of which Raven takes to kneel on, and the other Raven instructs Val to put beneath the boy’s head.

“Good luck.” Val gently kisses the point where Raven’s forehead meets her mane, then leaves her to her work.

Three days pass as Raven remains kneeling next to the Arcan’dor, pausing only long enough to wet her throat and nibble on a crust of bread before returning to her work. The boy remains unconscious, forcing her to drip arcwine between his feverish lips whenever his skin starts to tighten on his frame. For three full days she works without sleep, but the boy’s wounds refuse to heal, despite the assistance of G’Harnir and the advice of Valewalker Farodin. Val refuses to leave her, even to carry a message to Val’Sharah, and none of the Nightfallen can be spared.

Finally, after three days of silence, Ravenwen speaks, her voice hoarse from dehydration and disuse.

“Val…” Hearing her name even across the room, Valyara rushes over and kneels next to her, ignoring both the hard ground and the distinct smell of unwashed Tauren.

“What? What is it?”

“I… I can’t do it…” A dry sob turns into a hacking cough, forcing Raven to double over in pain as tears run down her muzzle.

“I can’t heal him… I’ve tried everything I know but nothing. Works!” She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from landing in the ruined flesh. “The best I can do… is to keep him like this. But even that is draining my strength. I can’t keep going…”

Val examines Raven’s face, seeing the crusted tracks where tears made their way through her fur, and the bags under her eyes. She sees how much this one child, this one victory against the Legion, means to her. And she makes up her mind.

“Wait here. And don’t let him die. Not yet.” Once again, she kisses Raven’s forehead, now bedraggled and unkempt, and stands, moving farther back into the tunnels of Shal’Aran to a deserted area. The spell she is about to cast is complicated, and it wouldn’t do to have it explode in her face because she was distracted.

As she pulls and prods the mana around her, she silently thanks Aumary for showing her this simple modification, making what she was about to do much more feasible. As she finishes the spell, a small tear opens in the air in front of her, the edges shimmering and crackling with energy as two points in space were pulled together by her spell. Through the tear, she can see the evergreen wilderness of Highmountain, and right in the foreground, a battered-looking blood elf attempting to fire a bow at a rather large and angry mountain cat which is trying to maul him. For a moment Val leans against the wall, clearly enjoying seeing him struggle. However, before long her enjoyment of the situation turns to annoyance. Muttering a word of power, she sends a lance of arcane energy through the cat’s heart, killing it right as it lands on top of the elf.

“You know, it’s easier to shoot something from farther away.” Kelaniel looks up and groans as he sees Val’s face through the miniature portal she had created.

“Yeah well-” He grunts as he shoves the cat’s carcasse off of him. “Far away things tend to get closer when you shoot at them.”

“That’s why most of you have little turtles and such isn’t it?”

“For your information I have a Ravager, and I left him at camp. I can hunt better without him, anyway.”

“Certainly looked that way.”

He bristles and looks for a moment like he might actually shoot her through the portal. “What do you want?”

“I need you to find two Tauren.”

“Why do you need me for that? Don’t you just need to look in your bedroom?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. If you used your brain for once, you’d have already guessed that I need you to find two very specific Tauren. One of them isn’t from Highmountain, he shouldn’t be too hard to find. The other will probably be with him. Tell them… Tell them that their sister is in danger and they need to come to Meredil, in Suramar, as quickly as possible.”

“And why should I do this?”

“Have you ever seen what happens to someone who’s halfway through a portal when it closes?”

“Fair enough.”

“Good. Make it fast, or you’ll get to see first-hand some of what I’ve been learning in Suramar.” The miniature portal snaps shut, leaving a glowing circular afterimage on the back of Val’s eyelids. Hopefully that idiot bow-jockey will come through, and the Blackfeather clan will come racing to the rescue of their elder sister, and save the life of the child in the process. She smirks, enjoying being the hero for once. Now all that remains is to wait for them to arrive…

Another full day has passed since Val contacted Kel, and the situation has only worsened. Raven still kneels next to the senseless form of the Nightborne child, only now she is wracked with violent tremors and pains as she pours the last of her fleeting strength into keeping him alive for just a little while longer. Val stands helplessly by, certain that she bears witness to two senseless deaths, both drawn out and painful beyond belief, and blaming herself.

At this point, Val’s only hope was that maybe, just maybe, Raven would pass out before exhausting the last of her strength, and she would survive this. Unfortunately, as Raven’s hold on the world of the living continues to slip away, she grips the child, and the constant stream of spells and prayers, tighter and tighter. Vines, long, silvery-blue creepers almost like the roots of the Arcan’dor below which she kneels, have twisted their way up her body and the child’s, and have held them both in place long after Raven lost the strength to stay upright by herself.

Val does her best to stay with her, but she has nowhere near the endurance of a Tauren, and inevitably passes out from exhaustion, leaving Raven with her charge.

Val is woken from her involuntary rest by a change in the background noise of the crumbling Ley-station. Dragging herself upright and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looks around a corner to see what has changed.

There, at the foot of the Arcan’dor, covered almost head to hoof in silvery vines and shoots, Raven still kneels, senselessly maintaining the never-ending stream of spells that keep the child on the edge of death. Next to her, however, were the massive forms of two other Tauren, their dark flanks and long ebon feathers betraying them as Raven’s brothers, Crowen and Magwen.

“Oh sister… what have you done to yourself?” Crow rumbles as he kneels next to the still form of his sister, gently laying his hand on her shoulder.

“The spirits of this place whisper her feat- she has kept this child from the embrace of the Earth Mother for five days, with little food and water and no sleep… Yet still she holds on!” Mag shakes his head, clearly impressed at his sister’s fortitude.

Crow nods “She is aware of nothing, not even our presence. To remove her, to sever the connection she has forged, would surely kill her.”

“Then we must try to finish her work.”

“We must work quickly. They have little time left.”

“Together we shall heal what one alone could not!”

“If only we had gotten here sooner! This dark cave is no place to work the will of An’she, but we cannot move him.”

“An’she’s light finds even the darkest holes eventually, brother.” With a grunt of acknowledgement, Crow sits cross-legged on the floor next to the boy’s head. Mag walks once around the trio, placing small wooden totems to the north, east, south, and west.

“I’m ready whenever you are. Let the sun and waves work together to rebuild life, as they always have.” The two Tauren rest their hands on their sister’s shoulders, and begin to cast their own spells, weaving them throughout each other’s, as well as the layer upon layer of regenerative spells already cast by their sister. As they do so, the vines that cradle Raven seem to shift, and they feel a renewed surge of strength from her seemingly lifeless frame.

Slowly, so slowly that at first it was difficult to see, the ruined, burned flesh of the boy on the floor begins to crawl. Skin, bone, and muscle knit back together, leaving scarred, but whole, skin where once there was only decay and death. Though it takes several hours, and both Mag and Crow are drained by the ordeal, finally every last inch of skin is covered in fresh tissue.

Mag heaves a heavy sigh, and wipes his face with his hand. “It is done.”

Crow nods solemnly. “He will bear the scars for the rest of his life, and he will never regain his eye or his arm, but he will live.”

“As, I think, will our sister.” Both Tauren look to the still-senseless body kneeling between them, held in place by a latticework of vines and roots. Suddenly, she snores, loudly, causing them both to jump in surprise, then to chuckle.

“Yes, I think she’ll be fine. Stiff and store from sleeping like that, maybe, but well enough.”

“And hungry! Speaking of which, what do you think these tiny point-ears have to eat around here?”

“Bah, you can’t trust an elf to hunt properly. Come, let us see those famed Thunder Totem skills you are always bragging about!” The Tauren brothers stand and, laughing and talking in the language of their fathers, leave the cave behind to hunt in the golden sun.

Val smiles as she comes back into the main chamber, looking at Raven and the child she had worked so hard to save, both now breathing deeply in the sleep of the utterly exhausted. As she stands there, basking in the glow of her own achievement, she is joined by another Sin’dorei.

“You didn’t exactly give me much to go on, you know.”

“I had every confidence in your abilities.” Startled by her gentle response, Kel glances at her.

“You were really worried for her, weren’t you?”

She responds with a hollow laugh. “This war… there hasn’t been anything like it for years. Not since Northrend… Every death, every loss, is personal to her. I guess she just couldn’t bear to lose again.”

Kel nods. “I remember. I wasn’t there for the worst of it- the Wrathgate and Icecrown beyond it- but even the Tundra was hell. I never saw her happier than when she strode out of that cave, trailing Murlocs like little ducklings.” He grins at the absurd memory.

“But where will this duckling go, I wonder, with no wing to fly with?”

Aleron groans and shifts, unwilling to open his eyes to face the nightmares again. Finally, he opens one eye blearily to examine his surroundings, certain that all he will see is the inside of an iron cage.

He was lying down on a soft bed, a heavy blanket covering him from toe to chin. The ceiling above him is made of a light blue stone, and is obviously very old, based on the spiderwebs of small cracks that run through it. Reassured, yet confused, he attempts to open his other eye, to no avail. Though his skin feels stiff and dry, it seems almost more like there was nothing to respond to his commands, rather than the if lid was sealed shut by swollen flesh or rime.

Panicking now, he moves to throw off his cover, only to be stopped by a huge hand with only two fingers and a thumb. He looks up the thick, muscular arm to the face attached, and sees the head of some kind of… farm animal?

Outlanders, he thinks to himself, what do they want from me??

“Calm,” the outlander says in a low, thick voice that, despite it’s strange sound, contains a kind of caring and peacefulness. “Rest now.”

Like I’m going to listen to some… beast! But… she is pretty big, and those horns would probably hurt… Maybe I should just wait for her to go away so I can get out of here. Satisfied that he is going to stay where he is, the outlander turns to the side and takes a comically small-looking knife in her hand. Laying his head back on the pillow, Al resigns himself to whatever fresh torture this is.

“Eat.” Startled, he looks back up at the outlander. She holds out what appeared to be a slice of some kind of fruit, but not any kind of fruit that Al has ever seen before. The rind is a shimmering and iridescent blue, and the flesh a clean, opalescent white. When he seems taken aback by the appearance of the fruit, the outlander presses it against his lips.

“Eat.” He shakes his head.

As if I’d eat something that an outlander gave me. Does she think I’m stupid? The outlander gets a look of consternation on her strange face.

“Eat.” Once again he shakes his head, and she heaves a heavy sigh. She grabs a bottle from somewhere that Al can’t see, and holds it up so he can read it.

“Eat, and I give you.” Even if he couldn’t read the elegantly scribed label, he would know the liquid contained within anywhere.

Arcwine! So this outlander does know something about us… But where did she get it? Are there other Shal’dorei here? By the stars, I’m hungry. How long have I been here? Is that why my face feels weird? Am I going to whither like those rebels in the square? Horrified, he shudders. That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it. I need that Arcwine! Begrudgingly, he opens his mouth and allows her to place the fruit on his tongue. He chews and swallows quickly, but can’t help but notice the unique, but not unpleasant flavor as it passes down his throat. He accepts a second slice, then a third, and so on, until he has eaten the last of the fruit.

“Good.” The outlander smiles at him, and wipes her hands to clean them of the juice. “You still want?” She holds up the bottle again. He opens his mouth to say yes, but then pauses. He isn’t hungry anymore. It seems impossible, but the fruit had actually satisfied his hunger.

He shakes his head. “No… thank you.” She nods in a satisfied way and stands up, casting Al in her shadow.

“Rest now. I return soon.” She turns and walks out of Al’s field of vision. Surreptitiously, he glances around, and once certain that she is well and truly gone, casts aside the blanket.

The purple, malformed skin that stretches up the left side of his stomach and chest catches his attention first. He stares in horrified fascination as it rises and falls in time with his steadily mounting breaths, convinced that he can’t actually be looking down at himself, or that it’s some new nightmare that would pass if he closed his eyes. His gaze drifts to his arm, and his breath catches in his throat. All that was left of the limb was a twisted, scarred stump not even half the length of his other forearm. Terrified of what he might find, but unable to stop himself, he reaches up with his remaining arm to touch his left eye, only finding a blank, empty stretch of skin where it had once been.

His screams disturb even the ancient cloudwing that roosts in Meredil, causing it to ruffle its feathers and clack it’s beak in irritation.

#Ravenwen Blackfeather #Valyara Starfall #Aleron #Kelaniel Winterwine #Crowen Blackfeather #Magwen Blackfeather #OC #WoW #World of Warcraft #writing #Heimo's stories

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