Beacons in the Cold Night: A WoW Story (Closed for SinisterSpiders)

Snow fell from the dark sky overhead. It was not heavy but neither was it light; a steady and unceasing tumble of white and grey from the thick clouds overhead that never seemed to falter or waver. Icecrown Glacier was all the dark blue of glacial ice, the white of snow, the black of stone. The howl of the wind was accompanied by the cry of the gargoyles and the occasional rattling roar of the frost wyrms that flew overhead the lurking mass of Icecrown Citadel. The snow had fallen before the darkling prince had come here. It had fallen when he pulled forth the cursed blade that doomed him. It fell when he returned in defeat to lick his wounds and raise an army like the world had never seen. It fell now as that army fought to snuff out all life; to make every place as barren and cold and dark.

The snow was an endless fall accompanied by the wind that blew across the glacier, the surrounding mountains, and the towering fortifications and structures meant to guard against the invasion of life to this bleak and frigid place. The natural barriers of ice, snow, and rock were not enough. Despite the proclamations of cultists and even The Lich King himself; there was life here. Small and hard to spot at times but just as present and persistent as that eternal snowfall. So the walls had gone up and the gates secured; manned by the legions of the undead and watched with unblinking eyes. Yet still life came on, undeterred, as if to remind even the glacier that it could not be buried under snow and ice forever.

On the long span of Aldur'Thar, The Desolation Gate, life was making itself known with the blazing passion of fiery hearts. A quintet of figures, so small against the massive fortifications, battled across the long span that connected it to Ymirheim, stronghold of the vrykul giants. They had been airdropped onto the bridge by a gnomish flyer from he nearby hidden airfield; here to strike down the Scourge and break the guard on the gate. A vanguard meant to pierce the operations on the fortifications and break the leadership so that the regular forces of the great Alliance could keep them down and open passage through the gate to the Valley of Fallen Heroes beyond.

"Another one coming," called out a tall, broad shouldered man in front called out. Even among his own people, he was tall, standing at 7'7" tall and his body was powerful; hard corded muscle moved with grace and might under skin that was a lavender purple. His build was long limbed and broad shouldered, his muscles defined and developed but as graceful and agile as they were strong. Silver eyes glowed clearly but faintly, just barely illuminating clean features that were sharp enough to look almost carved with a strong nose and full lips that were peeling back in an expression that was both a grin and a snarl. His hair was a dark blue, falling in a long mane down to the small of his back with two long forelocks framing his face and brushing his collarbones. He had no beard but long sideburns with down the side of his face and his eyebrows grew proudly out on either side of his head. His ears were long and angled out just 10 degrees shy of perpendicular from his face; the right one had two small nicks out of it two inches from the pointed end. He bore no other scars that could be seen now, though his nose had clearly been broken once a long time ago. His body was clad and protected in well made, cleverly layered leather armor in browns and a patch of dark green here and there that clung to and accentuated his body as much as it hid. A long hafted spear was in his right hand as he pointed with the left at a lumbering patchwork monstrosity of a creature that was ambling down the span, not yet having noticed them.

Jasreath Mistheart gestured and felt the magic of nature flow through him. Above the abominable collection of limbs and dead flesh a silvery orb burst into life and a column of light lanced down to engulf it in Moonfire. "Follow me in," he called, then he leaped forward and a bestial roar rolled out to strike his enemy almost as a physical force. His body changed; flesh flowing, thick armor like hide and fur sprouting, and in a heartbeat what charged forward was not a Night Elf but a massive bodied black furred bear with long elf like ears.

He charged with terrible speed; slamming bodily into the undead thing and rocking it back before rearing up and ripping both foreclaws down it. As his paws hit; he felt a rush as holy magic poured over him, knitting the minor wounds opened by the abomination's flailing blows.

There was a lower rumbling roar and a blazing ball of fire with a streaking tail flew over his head to blast into the monster's chest; searing and igniting unliving flesh. "Burn, you bastard," came the call of the beaming man whose fingers danced with arcane fire. Edrahil began to cast again, "Let's see Arthas animate ash!"

The abomination jerked suddenly as a short, curvaceous dwarf woman clad in body hugging leather appeared as if from nowhere and sank a pair of long, wicked daggers into the small of it's back, "Dinnae give him any ideas," Elde chirped as she jerked her blades free.

"Agreed," a husky, sonorous voice chimed in. Telya, a dusky skinned human woman in robes of dark red, finished the twisting arcane gestures of her hands to curse the badly crafted magic with a fell hex; it's body beginning to shred from within. Beside her danced an almost skeletal imp only reaching her knee; hurling sickly green fire of its' own. "We have enough enemies up here."

"You know," their priest added, "if you spoke less, you would not need to be healed so much, yes?" She was almost as tall as Jasreath; her skin a vibrant blue, her figure shapely and full even with the layers of her holy vestments on. Her legs were digitigrade and ended in dainty, relatively, hooves and a short, slender tail lashed above her pert ass. A pair of horns stuck up over her brows almost like rabbit ears and her her hair was stark white, piled up in a bun atop her head. Zaraya's hands moved through the forms of spells, yellow flashes of healing energy engulfing the fighting bear.

In a few more moments, the abomination fell in a heap, torn by the bear's claws, shredded by the rogue's clever daggers, burned by arcane magics. Jasreath shook his ursine head, shoulders shaking. Bear was raging in his heart; bellowing for more fight, more blood! But he tamped it down. Charging in was a mistake. He needed to keep his head and hold the beast in his power. Take them out bit by bit; calling all of the forces here down on them would mean death. He shrugged the bear fell away, his form lengthening and stretching upright, his equipment appearing on him from Elsewhere until he stood as his true self. "Good work. That's the last patrol; we need to pick it up a little bit so they won't notice they've stopped but still, we pick our targets until we get to the head."

"Aye, an' lop it off!" The buxom dwarf woman grinned up at him, her honey blond hair in twin braids that were coiled up into buns on either side of her head. "Though those Hordies might keep 'em busy too, I reckon."

They had seen a group of their faction's enemy approaching the gate from the other side and given them a wide berth. They weren't here to fight Horde. Despite the enmity on both sides, The Scourge was a far greater threat.

"Unless they decide to attack us instead of the undead," Telya snorted. Of all of them, the warlock bore the biggest personal grudge against their opposite numbers; having lost family in one of the Horde's many assaults on Southshore.

"Peace, Telya," Jasreath shook his head. "You said it yourself, we have enough enemies here. Good hunting to them if it kills more of these unnatural things. But let's not have them beat us to taking the gate," he added with a smile.

"Damn right," the human mage added in. "Let's-hey, there they are!" He pointed behind them were a group of Horde warriors strode down the span. A tall, busty orc woman led the way in blue-gray plate armor; an ugly two handed axe in her hands. There was a pale, paler than usual Blood Elf man as well, and a hunched over troll. "This is our side, all right? Your guys are over th-shit!"

The lead orc reached out and hands of black energy lashed out from her to grab the stunned draenei priest and haul her back. She had time to scream once before their weapons came down, hacking into her lush flesh, blood spurting onto the cold stone of the rampart.

"BASTARDS!" Jasreath let nature flow into him, hurling healing magic at the alien woman's feebly stirring form. "Get them off of her! I can get her back on her feet and then-"

There was a rolling bellow as the Blood Elf lifted a horn to his lips and blew. At the same moment, a similar sound burst out from the far side of the fortifications. Then answering calls came; the shrieks of gargoyles, ghouls, the dull brainless laughs of the abominations, the war cries of living cultists.

"Th' alarm!" Elde's eyes were wide, "Th' damn Horde gave us up! Bastards couldn't stand us wining this one, now we'll all die!"

"Just you," the orc woman sneered and her voice was unnaturally cold and cruel.

Then the Scourge were on them and the rest of the strange Horde members rushed in. The adventurers fought hard but the end was never in doubt. Jasreath called roots to hold the enemy numbers in place, called down the burning fire of the moon, shifted from bear to elf to rip enemy flesh and then throw out what healing he could but he still saw Elde pulled into a circle of ghouls, stabbing and slashing until she went horribly still. Edhrahil rained down ice until the enemy was upon them and then was thrown from the battlements, tumbling below. He might have survived with his magic, but then what of the enemies below?

"Run, Jas!" Telya drew in a breath and swelled into a horrific demonic form; wings spreading, fire igniting over the surface of her body, "Tell everyone what happened here!" The warlock turned demon waded into the throng.

"Damn it all!" The druid turned and leaped, his body twisting as his comrade bought him time, becoming a lean black panther. He raced away at top speed, ducking and diving through the stumbling swipes of his enemies. He could run all he wanted but that wouldn't get him out. He had to hide and let the alarm die down! Where?

There!

He dove into a doorway; some kind of storeroom. It was open but the boxes within and roof above case deep shadows and that was all he needed. Jasreath shifted once more into his natural form and drew in a breath, fading from sight within the shadows as all of his people could. "My comrades, my friends," he murmured under his breath. "I'm sorry. Elune and your Light protect your souls."

It had been going well. They'd almost succeeded. Then the Horde attacked. And the Scourge hadn't attacked them! Had they made a pact? It seemed impossible. It didn't matter now. He had to get some strength back and then try to get out of here. All alone. With the Scourge on alert.

He'd see his friends again sooner than he thought, wouldn't he?

Ice, snow, sleet, hail, slush. Whether it was a flurry, a storm, a light splattering or a soul-chilling fog, the only words that Senira Lightwalker had for it was cold. Even that, in her opinion, was a gross understatement.

Senira and her companions had been camping in the shadows of Aldur'Thar for weeks. Every day they got a little bit closer, a little bit more information, a little bit more frozen inside. Senira, at first enamoured by the natural beauty of the frigid plains, had soon become disenchanted with it. Though, if she were honest with herself, anything was better than the dead putrefying infection of her home. Every part of Silvermoon City and the land around it reminded her of what she and her people had lost, every part a reminder of the blight that had near destroyed them and the once-allies who had left them to rot.

That was why they were here, in this forsaken place, hoping to exact some measure of revenge for the horrors committed against their people.

"Is it morning already?" The sleep-gruff voice of Kelthras came from the tangle of furs and cloaks behind her. Senira shifted on their shared bedroll, her eyes tracing over the chiseled lines of his handsome face.

"You know it is," Senira sighed heavily, settling a bit closer to him to steal some more of his warmth. She felt his skin burning hot against hers like a brand, and she could feel just how much he enjoyed waking up in this predicament. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close with a roguish grin and she let out a laugh. "We should get up."

"Alas my dear, I already am!" He growled, pushing her onto her back and rolled on top of her. He easily settled between her parted legs, their bodies poised to join.

"Oh for the sake of the Sun Well- get up you two!" A muffled but clearly impatient voice sounded through the thin walls of their tent, followed by some more grumbling.

"You heard him, up we get," Senira groaned, tangling her hand in Kelthras' golden hair and pulling him down towards her for a passionate kiss. After a few moments she pulled away and looked into his eyes. His previously brilliant sapphire eyes, now filling with ominous flecks of green.

Another reminder of why they were here.

Kelthras seemed to sense the change in Senira and rolled off her and into the furs. They dressed quickly, the moment between the two drowned in routine as they dressed in their armor and readied their weapons for the day.

~*~

"There they are, this could be our opportunity," Anesta said, looking over Senira's head at Kelthras. Senira could feel Kelthras shifting behind her in the snow, where the three were crouched down and watching a group of Acolytes on patrol.

"I don't like it, we haven't been tailing them for long enough," Kelthras whispered back, his eyes brushing over Senira as he looked at Anesta. Anesta, a pretty red headed paladin rolled her own green flecked eyes.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation? What kind of rogue are you anyway, if you prefer the warmth of the Hunter's bed over the excitement of a meaningful infiltration," Anesta teased, a smirk tugging at her perfectly bowed lips. Kelthras bristled beside Senira.

"You've been invited to share that warmth, no need to be jealous Anesta. I'm sure your prissy morals would forgive one slight transgression in the name of warmth and preservation," Senira said lazily, getting back onto her haunches as she looked at the Orc, Blood Elf and Troll up ahead. "You go in when you're ready Kelthras."

Senira closed her eyes for a moment, her hands moving in purposeful and practised motions as she called forth her animal companion. Even if she couldn't sense the moment that her companion arrived, Senira would have heard it. The low rumbling growl of Peshos, the white tiger, was a familiar and welcome sound to her. Senira opened her blue-green eyes just in time to see the tiger nudge into her side, her hand automatically trailing through his soft fur.

"One more day to check their route, then I will take his place," Kelthras confirmed, referring to Blood Elf in the small band of acolytes. If Senira hadn't seen his chameleon like abilities herself she would have doubted his ability to do so, but he had been studying the other Elf for long enough now that he should have a good idea of how to act.

"Good- let's get a bit closer and-"

A roar and a bright flash of light interrupted Senira's words and the three Blood Elves gasped as they saw the foolhardy band of Alliance folk tearing into one of the abomonations that patrolled the area.

"Anar'alah! Are they trying to get themselves killed?" Senira muttered under her breath, getting to her feet as a dusting of snow fell off her patched fur and hide poncho. It was a mottled grey and white thing, similar to the one that her companions were wearing over their own armor, designed to hide them against the snow and rocks of this landscape. Her long, jet black hair had been braided and tied in a bun, then hidden under a white hood. Only her glowing eyes stood out, the rest of her shapely but short form hidden by the bulk of her clothing.

"Looks like it," Kelthras grumbled as the scene before them unfolded.

"We should intervene. Help them. Stop this before it gets worse," Anesta proposed, her keen eyes watching the cultists raining death upon the invaders.

"We should get back to camp, tell them to move to safety before we are compromised," Kelthras said, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the makeshift base they had set up. Anesta looked over at him, disgusted. Meanwhile, Senira was torn.

But the decision was soon taken out of their hands.

The sounds of horns filled the white silence all around. One after the other they all pierced the flurry of cold. The alarm had been sounded, and Senira knew there was an entire squadron of cultists between her group and their camp. If they tried to fight through on their own they may not make it, but if they aided the Alliance and then used their extra numbers to fight back to their own base... Well, it may just work.

"Looks like we don't have a choice!" Senira said as she took her bow off her back and nocked an arrow. Beside her Pehsos let out a low growl of anticpation as he stalked forward. For the briefest of moments a red beacon shone above the head of the orc and the group knew who their first target was.

They moved like a well-trained unit, across the snowy floor and towards the bridge that led to the battlement. Behind them they could feel the growing threat of the groups roused by the horn, and in front of them the battle between the Alliance and the Cultists was taking a turn for the worse. They dropped fast, faster than they should have, and by the time Peshos leaped towards the org with a dire growl, the warlock from the Alliance party burst into flames and turned into a demon.

"Go!" Senira directed, finally sending a flaming arrow into the scuffle. It landed home in the back of the Orc just as the warlock-demon landed a heavy blow.

But it wasn't enough.

The Warlock's companions were gone, that large druidic bear nowhere to be seen.

"We can't win this!" Anestra called as she prepared for the charge.

"No, but we have to try," Senira said solemnly as she fired off arrow after arrow.

And try they did.

They fought until the ranks of the enemy closed in around them. Until the fire of the warlock-demon became nothing more than a barely glowing ember. They fought until Kelthras' was surrounded by enemies, until even Anestra's gleaming armour could no longer protect her. Senira had taken to the battlements, dashing from place to place to get the high ground. With the lure of the warlock, paladin and rogue she was all-but forgotten by the cultists who were hungry for their pound of flesh.

Peshos was the first to fall, and Senira felt it as though a part of herself had died. It took everything she had to keep fighting, she still had two comrades in that fight. But the enemy were too many. Senira kept firing arrows until a well place thrust of a blade saw Kelthras fall to the ground in a mess of blood and guts.

"No!" She cried, watching him fall to the ground, his blue-green eyes dulling as he drowned in a sea of crimson blood. Then, even Anestra's incredible fighting skills were no longer enough. The warlock demon finally turned to ash, and it was mere moments before the orc cultists were crushing her in their meaty fists.

Senira looked around, subduing the rising panic as her survival instinct took over. The place was almost crawling with enemies now, and the only thing keeping her alive was the fact that they were too stupid to look up. But it wouldn't be for long. She needed to find shelter. Somewhere close by. Somewhere she could hole up until things died down and she could return to camp. That is, if her camp and her other comrades were still there to return to.


Creeping across the snow-littered roofs was dangerous, one misstep could lose Senira her advantage and cost her her life. She knew this, so she recalled what she knew of the area and dropped to the ground in front of a small storage shack. Thankfully the scourge were too busy scouring the perimeter for enemies to notice her, and she opened the door to the shack and slid in.

"Anar'alah," Senira panted as she pushed the door closed behind her and leaned against it, her head bowed as she struggled to regain her breath.

The noise outside was lesser now but still clearly that of alert. The fight was over and the search was on. Telya's sacrifice had ensured his survival. He bowed his head and felt shame in his heart at being alive. Perhaps he should have stayed and fought, died with them. Sneaky, deadly Elde who was so bright and happy. Serene Zaraya with that dry wit and that accent that sent a shiver down his spine. Eccentric Edhrahil and the brassy, sexy Telya making him feel at ease with their use of the arcane power his culture so distrusted. All gone now.

But that was why he had to survive. To carry their memory and their names. Perhaps that would be worth something. And perhaps he would have revenge for them, in time.

He also needed to get word to the Alliance. There was tension with the Horde in Northrend and skirmishes here and there but no outright conflict. The Scourge was an enemy both sides agreed came first. But some of them seemed to be working with them now. That orc and that bizarrely pale Blood Elf...though the orc was a paler green as well. Could it have been something else?

The sound of movement at the door tore his thoughts away. The towering Night Elf stayed frozen and still; secure that the shadows would hide him as long as he did not move. The door opened but only barely and form darted in and shut it behind, leaning back against it. The shape of the being was hidden in a thick cloak and hook but then a feminine voice spoke, "Anar'alah."

His ears twitched; her voice was relieved but also strained, yet it was a pretty voice nonetheless. That language was like his own native Daranssian but not quite. A Blood Elf woman, it must be. She might be one of them! He could get his vengeance right now! Jasreath's rage surged and his emotions roiled yet he did not stir. Self discipline and control was important to his people; and even though he was young, he had learned it well.

She certainly didn't look like she was hunting for survivors. She looked like she was hiding. But what if this was a trick? There was only one way to find out. He stepped forward, seeming to melt into existence from out of the shade as his shadowmeld broke. The druid raised his spear at her chest but did not strike, "Keep your weapon and voice low." His own baritone was warm and smooth; not due to emotion but simply the quality of his voice. "You were not with The Horde who attacked us. Do you know of them? Why did they attack?" Heat and loss entered his voice despite his effort to control it, "Until your comrades ambushed us, it was working. They would have lived if you-if they hadn't come at us and sounded the alarm. Why has The Horde joined with The Scourge?"

Senira's breath snagged in her throat and her luminious blue-green eyes widened as the kaldorei druid materialised in front of her, his sharp spear pointed right at her chest. She silently cursed her own carelessness as her eyes rose to meet his, sensing the warning beneath his warm baritone. Her first instinct was to go for her daggers, but she knew that would probably be her death.

"No, I am nothing like them," Senira said, her voice a soft hiss. "And my comrades and I did not ambush you. We were- doing something else- when we spotted your group."

Senira frowned, her pretty red lips tugging downwards as she thought of the great mess that his group had created. "And what in the name of the Sun Well did you think you were doing?" She asked, squaring her shoulders and standing a little straighter. For all of her confidence no one would believe that she was almost a full two feet shorter than him. "Using fireballs and throwing around magical attacks like fireworks? Seriously? After that display I can't even fathom why you'd blame me and mine for raising the alarm!"

His eyes widened when she looked up at him.in surprise. He had really only seen her kind at a distance and knew little of them. These little elves that the exiled Highborne had become in their long exile, changed by the arcane magic they recklessly used and consumed. She was beautiful; her features delicate, noble, and achingly lovely. Her surprisingly red lips were full and tempting, her blue-green eyes deep and luminous, and what he could see of her hair was a glossy black.

Her voice, even in anger, was no less pretty. Jasreath listened, his own lips frowning as she turned her strident questions on him. She wasn't afraid of him or his weapon and there was fire in her. He liked that, despite himself. He didn't care for her accusations though. "We were coming in for a targeted strike; moving from where their defenses were weakest to kill the leaders of the cultists here and then evacuate using our mage's portal spell. The plan was working until we were confronted with a trio of Horde."

He lowered his weapon and shifted his stance to lean away from her to make his body language less threatening. "You were watching us. Then you know there was no alert until the horn was sounded. By a Blood Elf. Those who attacked us were not dressed like the cultists but in plate armor and bore great weapons. They didn't look or act like Scourge but The Scourge did not attack them either. That is why I blame you and yours, because you did it."

Even as he said it he was no longer sure. Regardless of what had just happened, he, they were here now. "So."

Now that the shock of his appearance had worn off, and he had lowered his weapon, Senira was able to get a better look at the Night Elf. She noticed the quality of the leathers, the way his graceful and strong body moved beneath them as he stepped back. He was dangerous, this one, despite the fact that he fled the fight.
“I already told you that we have nothing to do with them. They're not even Horde anymore, not really. And, if that was your plan, you really should've done some damn research!” Senira snapped, her voice quiet despite the anger and frustration in it. Her fists balled at her sides.

“Do you have any idea what you have done? For weeks me and my-“ Senira stopped, the horrid reality that she had been supressing rising in her throat. “My-“ Senira tried to continue, a wave of anguish rising higher and higher in her body. No. She couldn't do this. Not now. She had to get out of here, go back to the camp. She had to see if any of them had survived.

Senira pushed past Night Elf, leaving forward and plain her hands on a stack of crates while she gathered herself. She didn’t want the druid to see the pain in her eyes. After a moment she took a deep breath, straightened up, and turned to the male who towered over her.

“So, how are you planning to get out now that you won't get your portal?” She asked, one eyebrow quirked up as she folded her arms under her breasts, pushing her poncho against her body and outlining its curvaceous form a little better.

He almost told her that they had acted on scouting reports and that was why they attacked from the Ymirheim side of the span. That the bottleneck of the span and the far outpost would be the chokepoint where they would have caught the cult leader on his rounds and then held for evacuation. The hot retort that if they'd been there for weeks, whatever they had been there to do should have been done died on his hips when her voice caught.

She moved past him to avoid his gaze. She didn't want him to witness her pain and grief. It matched his own at the least. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, the ache in his chest throbbing anew and his feelings of guilt deepening. If she and her companions were not with those Horde that had attacked his party, then how did they get involved? And why had they been here to begin with?

Questions for later, if ever.

When she turned back to him and crossed her arms, Jasreath found himself admiring what he could make out of her form. She was small and slender but her figure seemed to be ample and curvaceous. His silver eyes blinked. What was he thinking of? At a time like this? Zaraya would have scolded him and the rest laughed. Elune, he missed them already.

Focus, druid. Live now, mourn later.

"I have had little time to consider," he answered. "Our contingencies were all made with a team in mind, not myself alone. Or a duo." That might be presuming but their chances of survival were better together. "I can move with great stealth and speed as the Cat. I could move ahead of you and wave you on when it is good to move; we can make it from cover to cover until we reach a point to make a full escape from. Perhaps northward into the mountains simply for a place to hide, at first."

"...I should give you my name. Jasreath Mistheart. I am a druid of the Cenarion Circle. And you? Or shall I simply call you Archer?"

Senira almost made a comment about his lack of contingency plan, but when she looked into his silver eyes she saw her own pain reflected there. She took a look over the features of his face, the nicks in his ears, the nose that had clearly been broken at one stage. He was a fighter, just like her. And just like her he had lost his band. So instead of biting back she reached forward, offering him her warm hand.

“Senira Lightwalker, of the Eversong Woods,” she said, looking up at the towering male. “Do you happen to know your way around here? I can draw you a map if you’d like,” she offered. She thought of him sneaking around in cat form and had to dispel the pang of agony at the thought of Peshos. Not now. Not here. She had to concentrate on getting out of this forsaken place. And, with the help of this Druid, it may just be possible.

The lavender skinned male regarded her hand for a moment and then engulfed it in his own, giving a firm shake. Her hand was so small but there was strength to it; almost startlingly warm and soft. The druid did not say it was good to meet her; it wasn't. Neither of them wanted to be in this situation with the other and there was no point in spouting pleasantries otherwise.

"I know these lands little. A map would be of great value but I do not know how much time we will have." His ears sagged a bit and then straightened back up, "I would be better guided by you yourself, Mistress Lightwalker. You said you have been here for weeks. What path from here would you recommend we take? Assuming you wish to be burdened with me."

Jasreath's hand completely enveloped her own, and Senira could feel the tell-tale roughness of his work on his palms. She looked up at him as they stood closer, nodding solemnly as he stood back without exchanging any of the ridiculously frivolous pleasantries that some people did upon meeting.

"Senira will suffice," Senira said, brushing off the formality of his address, "And I assumed you as my burden the moment I led my party in for the defence of yours." It was not said as a slight, but more a statement of fact. She had known the risks when they ran in to help the Alliance folk, it was her own foolishness that got them here.

Senira flicked her dappled grey and white hide poncho aside and withdrew a dagger from its sheath on her full hip. She quietly shoved a crate on the ground aside, revealing just enough dust on the floor to trace an outline. She crouched down and drew several rectangles on the ground, outlining the surrounding area crudely. She drew a path through them with the tip of her blade.

"I will lead us, but this is what our path will look like. It will bring us to a drain under one of the walls that we can crawl though, from there I will need to travel north-west before veering true north for the mountains. I left a camp and some party members there...." she trailed off, not wanting to say that she was hoping to find them still alive. She was hoping, with all of her might, but she had seen the number of enemies that had heeded the call of that horn, and she knew that it was unlikely anyone would survive that.

Despite her proficiency with her bow, and the fact that it was her favourite weapon, Senira secured it over her back and withdrew her second dagger. This part of their escape would call for stealth quick, close and dirty work. She needed to make sure no more alarms would be called, or they had no hope of survival.

"Let's go," Senira said, pulling her hood down low to cover as much of her raven hair as possible and stalking towards the door. She pressed her ear against it, listening for enemies and marking their position before opening it and gesturing for Jasreath to follow.

The world outside the supply shed was still all a flurry, the sounds of footsteps crunching on the snow echoing on the larger thoroughfares not far from their position. Senira did what felt wrong, she led them around the corner and further into the camp of the enemy, but it was because she knew they would be looking outside, not in their own yards. She held up a hand for a pause as she stopped, hearing some shuffling and an annoyed grunt around the corner. She could tell immediately by the horrid scent wafting around that it was one of the pale orcs, but the absence of other noise implied that he was alone. She tucked one dagger into her boot and then rounded the corner in a quick motion, jumping onto the orc's back, covering his mouth and slitting his throat before he knew what was happening. With a cough and a splutter the two fell forward, but Senira jumped back, grabbing the back of the orc's cloak just in time to soften the thud of his fall slightly. She carefully kicked some snow up to cover the most of him and pulled a crumpled hessian sack from beside him to cover the shinier bits of his armer before moving forward.

The next area wouldn't be so easy. Senira glanced around the corner and saw two sentries posted between them and the wall. They would need to get to that wall and follow it for a ways before they found the great, so those sentries would have to go. Senira beckoned Jasreath forward and squatted down, drawing the layout of the area ahead and marking their targets with two Xs. She pointed to the one on the right and then at him, and then gestured that the one on the left was hers. She turned, her eyes meeting his, waiting for a sign of agreement from him before they launched into attack together.

As he crouched to see the path she drew in the dust, he could not help but note the beauty of her face was paired with a gorgeous and tempting form now that her shielding garment was drawn aside. Her figure was slender and athletic yet curvaceous; ample features that seemed all the more so for the lithe agility of her frame. He noted it in a moment and pushed it aside. No matter how lovely she was, they were not allies save by necessity and some part of her doubtless still blamed him for her comrades' fall.

He felt done guilt for her grief but only in part. Both of their grievances lay with The Scourge.

Silver glowing eyes studied the path she drew with a serious expression on his young face. He listened as well; her plan seemed a good one. But even good plans could fail, as he knew bitterly well. But it offered hope. If this camp was well hidden, those there may well have evaded detection or been able to withdraw. That would give Senira a way to safety. Though it might result in his capture.

One thing at a time. Escape the undead peril first; if that was not done, nothing else would need dealt with.

He crept after her as she left the room, moving with light footfalls despite his size. All Night Elves knew something of the craft of stealth. Jasreath felt terribly exposed as they moved deeper into the main control area of Aldur'thar. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades and every sound seemed to thunder in his ears but he showed no outward sign of his discomfort.

His long eyebrows rose and his eyes widened when the lush figured Blood Elf woman dispatched the cult sentry and hid his body. It was impressive, particularly given the sheer difference in mass between herself and the orc she slew. Senira was formidable, indeed. Something to remember as she may yet becomes a foe. They crept on. By his recall of the map, they were close to the culvert. Yet they were far enough from it that it might as well be a mile if they were noticed.

Further forward they crept, the pace necessary but testing the nerves. He felt as if any moment they may be spied from above and swept down upon. The set of the deadly Blood Elf's shoulders showed there was something ahead that wasn't good. Again he studied her drawing and at her gestures, he nodded. Jasresth had again crouched while they silently conferred and he did not rise from it but leaned forward and magic flowed through and into his body. The lean became part of the shift as his body and equipment flowed into the wiry, ferally powerful form of the Cat. His fur was black save for a patch like a silvery crescent moon on his upper forelegs and his ears still being the long shape of a Night Elf's rather than the smaller triangles of a true panther. Silver cat's eyes swept over her, his nose breathing her scent. There was a male's scent on her and it spoke of intriguing things but he once more put it aside.

Jasreath the panther slunk around the corner. The gloom served him well and his low slung, dark furred shape escaped notice. His eyes saw as plainly as if it were noon and he moved into position to see Senira, her body full of ready tension. When she moved, he sprang.

To the right most guard, it was as if the great cat leaped out from nowhere. Jasreath's foreclaws gripped and ripped down the orc's shoulders even as his jaws closed around the throat before the sentry could do more than start to open his mouth. He bit down hard and his teeth sliced through flesh, veins, and cracked vertebrae while crushing the wind pipe. Blood flowed over and into his mouth and he dug his claws in and ripped again. He twisted his body, his bite locked in place, carrying his prey to the stone floor. The orc tried to bat him away with one hand, the other fumbling for an ugly short sword but his first wounds had cut muscle, ligaments, and tendons which made motion difficult and robbed him of his strength. How ears twitched; he could hear movement and struggle behind him, where the other guard was, but he did not move his attention from his prey. He felt something give in the guard's neck and bit down harder; the muscle bound cultist quivered and went still. Jasreath shook his head hard and pulled, almost ripping the head from the body. Dead for certain then.

He released his jaws and turned with animal grace to see if Senira required assistance. He doubted it but he would support her in this as fully as he would one of his lost friends.

When Senira turned she couldn't help but grin, Jasreath had shifted into his stealthy and lethal cat form. She had but a moment to admire the sleek, strong muscles of the creature and the smooth black fur before he started to slink around the corner.

Senira had worked with druids in cat form before, so she knew that she would never match their stealth. Instead of creeping up on her mark she silently took her bow off her back and slipped an arrow from her quiver. She peeked around the corner, her mouth whispering and incantation as she channeled her concentration through the shaft of the arrow she held. She nocked it and took aim, taking slow, steady breathe and waiting for the exact right moment.

No more than a fraction of a moment after Jasreath pounced, Senira shot an arrow straight through the neck of her quarry to silence him, followed a split second later by one through his chest. It didn't quite hit his heart, but the poison on the tip worked fast and he fell to the ground in a quietly gurgling mess. Senira then looked around, checking of they had been seen before slinking across the yard to roll the corpse of her target aside and kick some snow on it. Blood was leaking through the snow, the gluggy crimson seeping and tainting the dirty white surface. Senira frowned, there as little they could do about that. By the time she straightened shd turned to see Jasreath and she nodded at him grimly, noting the mangled corpse he had left behind and the blood dripping from his powerful maw.



"There. We have to keep moving," she hissed in a low voice, pointing to a spot down the wall where the culvert was partly visible behind a beaten up keg. She gestured for him to take the lead, following behind and keeping her back to the wall, her bow up and ready to fire right between any prying eyes.

His eyes followed her pointing finger and his ears twitched. There was a strange smell from the culvert that made his feline nose tingle but it was their way out, no matter how it smelled. Jasreath sinuously moved, hugging the wall and the shadow it cast in the gloom. The endless clouds benefitted them now; even the undead needed light to see. He felt Senira fall in behind him, her footfalls and breathing a bare whisper. It was strange how well they'd worked together so far. True, it was not a lot of time but such synergy was still seldom seen.

Perhaps that was just how it was when professionals worked together. It had been so with the others, usually, anyway.

Elune, he wanted to weep for them, for his loss. Some other day.

He crept ahead on silent feet, keen eyes at home in the dark, nose and eats alert for danger. The black furred cat froze and there was a screaming call from overhead followed by the leathery flap of bat-like wings. A low rumble came from his chest and he moved back to press his form around the Blood Elf, hoping to use his fur as camouflage. High above them a quartet of gargoyles flew, wings clawing at the air, each bearing a large sack that hung from their rear claws. They continued on without incident and he moved onward once they were all faced away.

Another twenty yards to the culvert. His ears twitched as they stalked closer, certain something was about to happen. Every step it didn't made his body tense and his nerves grow. He felt like a taut bow string by the time they reached the culvert. Jasreath snuck a bit forward to keep watch, glancing back at the lithe hunter; he was more than a little curious as to how they would get through the culvert now that they were there.

Senira thanked whatever powers that were that the clouds had chosen then to move over the sun. They were already in the shadows of the wall, but this extra cover was precisely what they needed at that moment. She followed Jasreath, watching their backs, not surprised by the utter stealth that his sleek furred form displayed.

When that screeching call came from overhead Senira dropped in a low crouch and aimed her bow at the source. Her eyes took a moment to catch up to what her defensive senses instinctively new, and before she had time to step back the large cat had let off a low growl, pressing his warm form over her. She was about to shift away but she realised that his fur was the perfect disguise for their shadowed location, even more so than the dappled poncho she wore. She kept her eyes schooled on the gargoyles now, just in case they decided to look her way.

After a few tense moments Jasreath moved forward and she followed, noticing the distinct lack of warmth now that he was away from her. In a blasted cold land like this the warmth of a living, breathing being was a welcome thing. Senira pushed all thoughts of how she would stay warm at night from her mind and returned her attention to the task at hand.

When they reached the culvert Senira's senses felt that familiar tang of other. She pressed her bare hand against the stone cold wall and stopped. She zeroed in her senses on the world around them, every sound, every smell. She was confident that Jasreath would, at the very least, cover her back until they had made their mistake. After that though? Well, she would deal with that when it happened.

Senira opened her eyes again and looked down at Jasreath again with a frown. She bent a little at the hips (after all, he was very tall in cat form still), moving until her lips were a hairsbreadth from his ears.

"Three marks on the other side. They reek of the dead," She whispered. She then reached forward with her toe and prodded the slushy, half-frozen mud that coated the base of the culvert. Good. If it was completely frozen it would have made their crawl through the tunnel almost impossible. They would get wet and muddy, yes, but if they stayed here much longer they wosuld be dead. "Crawl through the tunnel. I'll cover you from this side. I will follow once you are out."

Senira crouched by the opening of the tunnel, holding her weapon at the ready and waiting for the sleep feline druid to slip through the wall.

Jasreath's feline head nodded and he turned and approached the culvert. Crawling through it would be a messy business and dangerous. The mud would be cold and cling to their bodies, sapping heat and energy; hypothermia would be a real possibility. Add in three enemies on the other side and you faced more loss of warmth and strength. Three also meant that they couldn't silence them all at once; an alarm would likely get raised.

But it was the only way out. He didn't hesitate to go, his nose twitching and wrinkling at the stale stink of the mud and the more fetid odor beyond it. His shoulders heaved with what would have been a sigh in his true shape and he hunkered down to wriggle under the cold, rusted metal.

His eyes saw perfectly even in the dark of the culvert. For thirty years of muck and mire, he crept on his belly towards the other side; the illumination of it clear as a lantern in the dark to him. The mud was frigid and he shivered as it flowed over his fur and skin, sticking to his legs and belly and starting to grow heavy. The druid could feel the heat of his body pouring out into the chill sludge and tried not to let it drive him to rash action trying to escape it or warm himself.

He came to the grate on other side and stopped, looking out. On the other wise was part of the glacial flat but then rearing up were the rocky, snow heavy mountains that surrounded it. That was where freedom lay, though not necessarily survival. The elements were as hazardous as the Scourge now. If the camp Senira mentioned had stayed hidden, they had a good chance.

Or she did. What would they do with him? Kill him? Take him prisoner? Better odds than he would have The Scourge either way.

Immediately beyond the gate was a loose piling of stones creating a barricade perhaps three feet high. It was not really a fortification or a barrier, more a loosely made contact point for patrols outside of Aldur'Thar's defenses. The stink of undead flesh was heavy in the air and the source was not hard to find. Two of the wild looking ghouls paced about the area around the rock pile, rangy limbs and ragged skulls and hair were stirred by the nigh constant Arctic wind, their wide and empty eye sockets viewing the area through the very magic that animated them. Accompanying them was one of the lumbering abominations; the inhumanly large, multi-armed, obese patchwork monster's heavy, fat footsteps thumped on the ice.

His nose twitched and he considered how to attack. The ghouls first; hitting them hard and fast to take them down, then shift to the bear to tackle the abomination and hold it off while Senira helped bring it down with arrows.

...assuming she just didn't leave him to save herself.

Jasreath glanced back at the passage of the drain culvert. He would act in good faith regardless. Trust, as well as his life, was all he had to give now.

Senira noted the tension in Jasreath's sleek form as he slipped into the shadows of the culvert. The slush came up to his legs and belly, and from the way it stuck to his fur it looked icy. Senira didn't let her attention snag on that though, it was an unpleasantness she too would experience in the very near future. For now she needed to make sure their backs were clear. Her keen green-blue eyes scanned the world around her, taking in every movement, counting in her mind until she figured Jasreath would be three quarters of the way through his crawl before slinging her bow over her back, gathering her poncho up and around to tuck it into her breeches at her back, and then got down to her hands and knees.

A quiet but sharp hiss slipped between her gritted teeth as she felt the first bite of the stinking slush. As she moved into the darkness of the culvert she found it was as sticky as she had thought, and as she moved she realised just how much colder things would get. When they were done here they would need to find the camp and clean up. This amount of ice on their clothing could be downright deadly.

A string of near silent curses in Thalassian streamed from her plump lips as she crawled through the muck. The swearing distracted her from the fetid tang of the mush she was walking through, and when her braid slipped over her shoulder and trailed into it she gritted her teeth so hard they could no longer even chatter.

Finally the end was in sight, the light seemed almost painful after the darkness of this tunnel but they needed to keep moving. When felt the first rays of sun (cold, but still warmer than where she was now), she looked out into the world beyond. Two ghouls and an abomination. She couldn't see Jasreath anywhere, and she only hoped that it meant he had decided to stealth in rather than abandon her. She decided to trust him this far, he could have run for the culvert and left her for dead while they were fighting earlier.

So Senira slowly rose to her feet, letting the camouflage of her poncho fall over her body as she slowly moved to retrieve her bow and load it. She waited patiently, deceptively so for someone in such danger, waiting once more for the moment that Jasreath to attack before firing. She split her attention between watching for signs of his movement and sending her energy into her arrow, charming the wood to split into three, each one hopefully finding each enemy before her.

He heard her coming, though few would have. It was not her faint steps that gave her away but the barely audible curses in her native tongue, so like yet unlike his own, that caught his sensitive ears. Jasreath then slipped out of the culvert itself and towards their apparently unaware foes. He counted in his head, estimating the time it would take her to make ready. At the end of his count, he glanced back and just barely saw a faint glint off of an arrowhead in the darkness beyond the culvert.

So she would fight with him? Thanks to Elune for that. And she was using the culvert as cover; cunning that. There was no way the abomination could reach her in there; even the ghouls probably couldn't.

But they wouldn't get a chance; he'd keep their ire on him. The druid swore to himself as he began to stalk forward that she would not feel a single blow while under his protection.

The panther leaped from behind the loose stone pile and his claws ripped and tore into the ghoul that had been trailing slightly behind the other two undead creatures. He landed high on it's body, tearing and shredding, letting the weight of his body carry him to the ground and down it's rotten carcass. He heard the shriek of the other ghoul and the abomination's bumbling question.

He sprang from the first foe as the arrows flew. Let that be enough to take the first one out. As his feet touched ice, he changed again, his form swelling and growing in muscle and mass until the thick furred and skinned bear charged with feral speed to knock the remaining ghoul sprawling and slam into the abomination. Jasreath reared up and slapped it with the blow of one paw that would tear most men's heads off, yet just made the bulging grotesque lurch slightly.

Jasreath emerged from his stealth and launched right at the trailing ghoul, his claws raking down its fetid flesh and causing its allies to let a shriek of alarm out. As the panther stepped back and shifted into bear form Senira's bow twanged and a single arrow flew in the direction of her foes. When it was about ten feet away the shaft magically split into three, each arrow finding home in one of the foes. The ghoul that Jasreath had attacked received its arrow through its dead left eye and fell back down into the slushy snow.

The next two arrows that Sernira fired, in rapid succession, carried silencing spells that would prevent any further screeches that would alarm more enemies. Senira tore her glowing greeny-blue eyes away from the druid-bear and his exploits to looks around, seeing if any more foes were headed their way. There was nothing that she could see through the faint drift of snow, nothing to tell her that they had been caught, but she knew enough about the patrols to know that they didn't have long before someone up on the wall would peer down and see them.

So Senira fired more arrows, each one whizzing past the bear's shoulder or leg, or slashing claws or tearing maw. He may think that they were close, that the shots were risky, but each one was perfectly calculated by the female to ensure that they hit their target, their shared enemy.

Every arrow that lanced past him to sink into the fetid meat of the abomination sent a thrill through him. So close! Yet he did not doubt the shots were expertly aimed to miss him. It served no purpose to harm him now, with enemies in front of them. Treachery was off the table for the moment.

Blows fell on him and he felt the shocking warmth of his own blood on his skin and batting his fur. The ghoul's talons poked and gouged. The abomination's heavy fist and cruel hook bashed and stabbed. Each strike drive his furious strength on, though even as the bear he was agile and quick. Many of the attacks against him missed entirely or were blunted by a blocking forelimb. But he could not grow complacent; time served their enemies, not them.

Jasreath dodged backwards out of heavy swing of the hook and reared up as he jumped in to take hold of the abomination with both forepaws. He bellowed and heaved with all of his might to pull the huge creature off of it's feet and hurl it down onto the glacial ice. Right on top of the remaining ghoul. He leaped on top of the fallen monster as heavily as he could, pinning it for what he hoped would be a killing shot.

A grim smile tugged at the corner of Senira's lips when Jasreath continued to fight as her arrows flew. His own attacks appeared unaffected by hers, and she thought that it spoke of someone well acquainted with battle as well as team work. Good. They would need his skills if they were both to survive and make it to her camp.

Senira drew another arrow from her quiver, this time she looked at the abomination and the remaining ghoul, their mouths flapping with silenced cries of outrage and pain. She took in their injuries and knew that they were both close to perishing. Just then Jasreath pinned one of their foes, and Senira loosed that arrow she'd been holding. It burrowed right through the creature's right eye, piercing its brain and killing it instantly. She then turned, watching their last foe realise it was beaten, quickly knocking another arrow as it turned and made to run.

It was an effort of will not to bellow out in triumph as the deadly hunter's shot blasted through the abomination's milky eye and into it's brain. The bulk under him shuddered and it went still. The exultation of triumph brought a rush of strength to his limbs and he raised his head with a snarl. The fight was not yet over.

The last ghoul was running. It's flat, flapping feet slapped on the ice as it raced away, seeking to meet another of the wall patrols. If it did, that would likely mean the end for one of them, if not both.

Jasreath's body thinned and stretched up back into a Night Elf, his clothes, armor, and spear forming out of the bear's bulk as well. Killing the ghoul would mean catching it and that meant halting it's flight. "Be bound," he snapped, his hands moving as he cast his spell. The ice under the fleeing undead's feet cracked and split as living roots burst up to grab hold of the thing's legs. The twisting plants gripped tight and hard, holding the ghoul fast. They squeezed as they held; bursting desiccated skin and cracking dry bones. "Senira, finish it!"

The ghouls shambling gait made it hard to track. Senira could shoot it she knew her skills well enough, but she also knew that her arrow supply was depleting and the silencing spell would soon wear off. She had to make it count, and as she followed the sway and bob if its slapping feet she sucked in a steadying breath.

Then the hard packed ground between the ghouls feet started to shift and crack. Senira averted her keen gaze for a moment and saw the tall, graceful natural form of Jasreath working his druidic magic. She nodded grimly at his words. She turned back to the ghoul, said a silent spell to imbue the wood with her most deadly magic.

The twang of her bowstring could be heard through the whistling of the wind. The arrow flew in a perfectly arching path over the gap between them and nestled into the ghoul's back with a sick squelch. The creature's body seized before flopping forward, its gangly limbs spasming as the silencing spell ends and the last of its screeching death wail pierced the air.

Senira's heart clenched at the sound, immediately looking around to see if the cry drew the attention of any more foes. In the distance a shambling group much like this trio's stopped in their tracks, as if trying to sense where the disturbance was. Senira turned to Jasreath as she slung her longbow over her back.

"Run!" She mouthed, channelling the aspect of the cheetah and knowing that they had to move. Now.

Senira turned instinctively toward where she and the others had camped at the base of the Aldur'thar cliffs. She only paused long enough to ensure that Jasreath would move along with her and then she was off, her fleet feet barely sinking into the deep snow.

His ears visibly twitched at the ghoul's cry, "Damnation," he growled. The long limbed druid was launching into motion even as she turned to silently call him to flee. She broke into a run; swift and precise. Her long, shapely legs ate up more distance than he would have expected and she was moving with supernal speed. But then so could he.

He threw himself forward and willed the change again. His body and gear molded and melted into a feline form again but not the compactly powerful panther but a leaner and longer legged cat with yellow fur and occasional dark spots, made for speed rather than explosive killing power. His claws extended not to slice flesh but to cut into and create traction on the icy ground under his paws, allowing his muscles to direct their power into propelling him forward rather than struggling for footing.

He took off after Senira like a shot from her bow might have. His legs flew wide forward and back, came back together to cross, and were flung wide again as he raced after her. Speed mattered now. If their enemies closed the distance and saw them, it would be a hard run and harder fight, one they likely cold not win. But fast now to cover, to the hidden place she mentioned.

They could only hope something and someone remained of her expedition.

Senira couldn't hear Jasreath's footsteps over the pounding of her heart and the huffing of her breath, but she could sense him. She could feel his strong, life-filled presence behind her, keeping up with her enhanced speed and making her wonder what creature he would have morphed into to do so. For a moment Senira realised that the druid could have shifted into flight form, perhaps even escape whatever aerial wards there were in this area, but instead he kept up with her, racing through the snow towards an uncertain fate.

Senira led them down the side of the Ymirheim cliffs, ducking and weaving between large crags. Down, down and down until they ground flattened out beneath their feet and into the Valley of the Fallen. Against all good sense, Senira led their race around the edges of the white world around, skirting enemies as she went, and then just as they reached the sheer rock face beneath the span she skidded to a stop and slipped between two boulders, resting a hand on the frigid stone and breathing heavily as she watched the entrance to the cave that she and her comrades had been camping in. The need for vengeance gleamed in her eyes, now hard with the decision she had made. There would be no turning back from this. But she didn't care. She wanted to make them pay.

Senira's eyes widened with horror as she saw a patchwork abominations tearing the tents up and throwing them against the cave wall. Then, in the middle of the first entrance cave, Senira could see the badly bloodied and disemboweled remains of-

A low, trembling gasp escaped Senira's lips as she processed what she was seeing. Her world spun and her stomach heaved. It took every ounce of restraint she had to keep her breakfast down. Kelthras. Anesta. Tristain. Elo'mei. Drakon...


"They... they're gone," She whispered, fingernails aching as her fingers scraped at the stone. She could scarcely believe it. But... there it was, the evidence of her destroyed camp before her. The lifeless forms of her remaining team members. She felt a sweltering rage building up from deep within, roiling and burning, coiling around every fibre of her being and begging for vengeance.

"You need to leave. Now!" She breathed, knowing that she only had moments before she was lost to her rage. The only thing that kept her from charging in there right now was Jasreath's presence. It was her mission that had failed. It was her band of friends who had been torn from her. Her last connection to this blasted world. She would not drag him down with her. She would give him enough time to get clear of this area, and then she would make those fel bastards regret ever going near her camp.

The shapeshifted druid let Senira lead as they plunged in though the cold wind. The running was good; it would help to keep them warm but they would need shelter and other heat soon even with it. They hugged the cliffs and moved both from cover to cover and in outright bursts in the open. Aa they descended into the valley, spectral figures moved and wandered. More than once they skirted the ghosts, part of the Scourge whether they had bodies or no. Jasteath kept several strides between them to see where she went, allowing him to more easily follow her course.

There was no sign of any pursuit. If the bodies of the guards had been found, any search had not found their trail. Or perhaps they had been let go on the assumption that the environment would finish them. It may yet. But the lack of chase was still heartening. Now if the camp were there, they would live. Even if he were a prisoner, he would live to escape.

He managed not to skid into her when she finally halted her flight at the boulders. His claws skidded and scrabbled but he brought himself up short, his breath steaming in the chill air. Her posture told him the news as he shifted back to his true form, when before he heard her had, saw her tense to keep from retching. Her body began to shake but it was not from cold or fear. Her every breath rang with wrath, and her muscles tensed in fury. She wanted vengeance. She wanted her enemy to hurt and die.

He did not blame her. The same desire burned in him. But Night Elves prided themselves on, well, many things, but self control was one of them. He understood her pain and her rage but if she gave into it, she would die.

He flinched at her words. She was, as Elde would have said, giving him an out. Jasreath licked his teeth under his lips. "No." He could see his friends falling in his mind's eye, hear Telya telling him to run, see her humanity fall away as she called on far powers to sacrifice herself so he could live. "I will not leave another companion to die."

His voice was not loud or harsh but full of resolution as strong as old tree roots. "If you choose to fight, I will fight and win or die with you. But I will not leave you to pointless death after surviving so much. I would say to live and extract a full vengeance on all the Scourge but if you choose this now, then so be it. You will have me with you."