Starfall

My body was aching and for a few seconds I wondered if I still had my arms and legs because I couldn’t feel them. I tried to open my heavy eyes trying to catch the light above me. When enough of my will returned to me, I managed to see. I was in a room. The arches, the wood reminded me of Astranaar.

I heard a voice, gentle and soft.

“He’s waking,” she said.

I turned my head in the direction of the voice. I grimaced as I felt the aching pain in my body again. I gathered my senses once again to see. I saw two night elves. They were smiling. I couldn’t respond. One of them approached me.

“Rest longer fellow brother,” she said. “You were fortunate to be discovered after the storm passed. You are blessed by Elune.”

I mouthed the words hoping she would understand.

She smiled. “You are at Starfall Village. And do not worry. Both your cats were saved and are recuperating as you are. You will see them soon but for now rest and recover.”

I closed my eyes and felt a calm flood over me. I could rest now.

A Frosty Start

It’s cold.

Maya and I left the comforts of Everlook to make our way to Starfall Village. The goblins warned me that a storm was coming and even in good weather the trek to the village would take a couple of days. With a storm, the road to the village became treacherous.

The biting frost of the wind and ice stabbed at my face even with the thick hood of my cloak wrapped around my head. The grizzly fur that I wore did it’s best to protect me but I still felt the chill to my bone. My faithful companion Maya, whom I would never refer as a pet, walked stoically beside me. Her silky black fur provided substantial protection but never did she have to face weather such as this. Even my great nightstalker mount Midnight felt the pain of cold as he growled with each wind gust.

Truly Winterspring was a land not to be taken for granted. I had traveled here to find adventure and in hopes of catching a glimpse of the rare frostsabers found nowhere else on Kalimdor or Azeroth. Between my searches, I aided the local goblins and other native inhabitants of this majestic land. Among them were the Timbermaw furbolgs whose acceptance was necessary before I could venture into Winterspring, for they controlled the only access tunnel to this arctic land.

This land of reflected white called to me to discover its secrets. So I left the temperate climate of Darnassus and the relative comforts of the night elf lands to answer this calling. Some of my friends called it hubris. They did not think I was ready for the challenges of Winterspring. The elders thought I was not ready for such a rigorous journey. All of them felt my ego was guiding my path.

But am I not a veteran of the war against the Scourge? Did I not survive the horrors of the undead? Could I not meet the challenge of Winterspring after surviving those ordeals?

Maybe it was my pride. Maybe I was not yet ready. I underestimated the power of nature. As a hunter, that last thought was most ironic. Of all elves, I should have known not to question nature. And now it seemed I would pay for my recklessness with my life and the lives of the two cats I call friends.

But would I have not ventured into Winterspring in hindsight? No, I do not think I would. It could be my youth speaking but I learned and experienced with each step and every risk and danger was worth it. Had I been more cautious, I would not have seen the things I have seen. I have seen wonders in the great desert of Tanaris. I have witnessed the anarchy and debauchery of Booty Bay. I saw the resilience and hope of the humans at Darkshire. And I still see the plagues that befall Lordaeron.

None of these things I would have known had I been more conservative. I do not regret my actions. My only regret is, if I were to leave this world lost in this blizzard, I would also take the lives of Maya and Midnight both of whom have been the most loyal and faithful companions in all my adventures.

“Do not grieve for us yet,” I heard the voice ringing in my head. It was Maya.

“We are not dead yet,” she added.

“No we are not but I fear I have, as the humans would say, pushed the envelope too far,” I replied.

“But that is who you are,” she responded. “I do not think you irresponsible. You are wise beyond your years and you used your judgment, good or bad to make the choice to make our trek to Starfall hoping to beat the blizzard. Confidence is not necessarily reckless. You have grown much while I have traveled with you.”

“Final speech before our demise?” I tried to joke even as another biting wind engulfed us.

“I’m trying to keep our hopes up here,” Maya said.

“Will you two quiet down and let me concentrate?” Midnight jumped into the conversation. “While you two are blabbering away and rehearsing your deathbed speech, I’m trying to use my senses to find our bearings and hopefully some sort of shelter to wait out this storm.”

Maya and I both laughed quietly.

Among our group, Midnight was the most serious and I would have to say, most mature. In many ways, he represented the balance among us. Midnight countered Maya’s playfulness with his work ethic. He countered my love for…adventure with responsibility. We made a good team.

“Find anything Midnight?” I tried to communicate to him.

“This blasted wind and snow is overwhelming my senses,” Midnight said, “but I think I saw a small cave just up ahead. We may be able to find some shelter there.”

“Get us there Midnight,” I said.

He growled and pushed himself harder as he waded through the deep snow. His great legs of pure muscle and power fought the onslaught of the bitter chill. But I could see Midnight was wearing down. I tried to look out of my hood, hoping to see what he saw. Maya walked behind Midnight trying in vain to have some of the cold wind blocked by his great form.

A few minutes passed and then I saw it. It was a small cave barely big enough to fit all of us. I marveled at Midnight’s extraordinary senses. He may have saved us all.

In what seemed like an eternity, we finally managed to reach the meager shelter. It was smaller than we had hoped. The cave was too small to fit all of us but we were all too tired to challenge the storm any more. Our best hope was to curl up together in the tight opening and keep ourselves warm with each other. I prayed to Elune the storm would end soon.

The two cats curled around me, forming a shield of sorts. I would have voiced my objection to this but I knew they would never risk my life if their sacrifice could save me. The shelter gave some protection but I could already see the layers of frost forming on Midnight’s exposed back. He never complained once.

Hours passed but the storm raged. I was worried about the storm but never did I actually believe this would be our final resting place. But the numbness of my body and the slow loss of heat between our bodies told me this time we may actually lose.

Maya was the first to fall asleep. I tried to wake her knowing in extreme situations like this, sleep meant never waking up. But she was just too cold and her body failed her. Midnight was the next to lose consciousness. As I felt the cold piercing the core of my body, I lost all sensation. I saw visions of Darnassus and the mighty forests of Ashenvale. I saw Caressa and my old friends Landon and Lhorynna. Then all went black.

Beyond Darkshire

“Thank you Belion,” Lord Ello Ebonlocke said as he shook the elf’s hand. “As long as we hold the heart, Abercrombie will not dare attack Darkshire.”

“I am glad I could be of service.”

“I sense you are planning to leave us,” Ello added.

“I desire to return to my homeland.”

“I understand,” Ello nodded. “Do not worry about us. It seems Darkshire will be alright. Just yesterday, a handful of adventurers came to town offering their assistance. It seems people have a warm spot in their hearts for Darkshire.”

“It is a town of inspiration.”

“Very well then,” Ello said, “I do not wish to delay you longer. May the Light guide you on your journey.”

Belion bowed, “And may Elune watch over you and your town.”

The night elf turned and walked out of the townhall. He made his way to the gryphon master before being stopped.

“Were you planning to leave without saying good-bye?” Althea asked.

Belion looked at her. “I’m not very good saying farewell.”

Althea approached him and gave him a warm hug. “Thank you my friend.”

Belion hugged back, “It was an honor.”

After letting go and wiping some stray tears, Althea said, “Don’t be a stranger. You are welcome anytime.”

“I will return. I promise.”

They both smiled.

Abercrombie’s End

Belion stood over the desecrated body of Eliza holding a still beating heart in his hands. She did not go down easily and she called upon the ghouls of Raven Hill to aid her. The battle was fierce. Maya was still tending to her numerous injuries as Belion’s healing spell swept over her. Even Belion had a large gash on his arm, a final gift by Eliza.

He took the bloody beating heart and placed it in a leather sack. He was about to leave and head to Darkshire but a voice from behind stopped him.

“You can’t take that,” the voice demanded.

Belion didn’t bother to turn around as he replied, “Your days of terrorizing Darkshire is over Abercrombie. If you attempt to stop me, I will destroy this heart.”

“No…” Abercrombie whimpered.

Belion turned around to look at the man who had given up his soul to be with his wife. He was named the Embalmer and the creator of Stitches. But now Belion had his heart which Abercrombie used in hopes of keeping his wife Eliza alive. Unfortunately dark magic always had a price…

Belion unsheathed his sword and raised it towards the old man. Abercrombie stumbled backwards crying, “You plan to kill me?”

“No,” Belion said. “You will not die by my hands. Instead I leave you alone in darkness. Maybe in solitude you will truly understand the blackness of your soul. I will leave you in your misery and alone,” he tapped the sack with the heart, “and without your wife and without hope.”

“No! Don’t leave me here in hopelessness!” Abercrombie collapsed, weeping on the ground.

“The day you became the Embalmer was the day you abandoned Hope,” Belion said.

The elf turned around and walked away, leaving the old man alone in the shrouded cemetery.

Stitches Part II

The handful of Night Watch guards drew their swords and charged the behemoth. The initial wave of slashes didn’t seem to affect the large monster. Almost like a small child, Stitches grabbed one unfortunate guard and picked him up. After staring at the man in wonderment, Stitches bit into him, tearing him in half. The horrid crunching of bone and flesh made one of the guards falter and he collapsed vomiting.

“Maya, you know what you have to do,” Belion said as he made preparations to combat the unnatural beast.

Just keep healing me.

The great cat dashed to Stitches and leapt onto its leg, sinking her fangs and claws deep into the thigh. Stitches hollered in pain and slapped Maya from its leg. Maya tumbled onto the road taking huge chunks of rotted flesh with her.

Stitches turned around and tried to grab Maya but the moonstalker was too fast for him. Seeing that Stitches now had his back turned to him, Belion fired off his volley of arrows. Charged with arcane energy, the arrows pierced the monster’s thick hide, green ichor oozing from the wounds.

Stitches roared in pain and anger and locked his eyes on Belion. With unbridled fury, he charged ready to stomp Belion into paste. Althea drew her weapon and poised herself in front of Belion but he pulled her aside. She stood puzzled as Belion stood his ground as Stitches rushed him at full speed.

The trap triggered.

Stitches stepped on an explosive trap, igniting his rotted flesh. The undead creature crashed to the ground as the fire swept all around him. Belion took this opportunity to litter the giant with arrows. As the fire dissipated, Stitches tried to get up again. Its once pinkish flesh was scorched black. The end was near and Belion knew it. Nocking two arrows on his bow, Belion took aim.

Maya leapt on Stitches’ back, digging deep with her claws. The undead creature arched back, roaring in pain. With his head lifted and exposed, Belion took the shot. The twin arrows whistled through the air and struck Stitches, each arrow in each eye. The magically charged arrows shattered the undead brain and Stitches gasped. The huge monster fell and did not rise again.

The townsfolk of Darkshire cheered and Belion sighed in relief. Maya padded next to her master and received a loving scratch behind her ears for a job well done.

“This isn’t over,” Althea said.

“Then let’s finish this,” Belion replied. “Where did Stitches come from?”

Stitches Part I

“Your service to Darkshire these past few weeks have been invaluable,” Althea Ebonlocke said as she sipped on her tea. “There has been a significant reduction on worgen and undead sightings. I want to thank you for all your aid.”

“That will not be necessary,” Belion replied taking a sip from his own tea. “I know this may sound strange to you but it is I who should be thanking you.”

Althea raised an eyebrow. Normally very good at seizing up an individual, she had a very hard time grasping the nature of the enigmatic elf sitting in front of her. One of the reasons why she invited him over for dinner was so that she could get a better understanding of him. That and Belion did rid the surrounding area of worgen, undead and spiders and she felt obligated to thank him as commander of the Night Watch.

“My statement confuses you?” Belion stated.

“Yes,” Althea said, “and generally I am not the type to be perplexed.”

Belion chuckled, “let me explain.” He finished his tea with a satisfied look. It had been a long time since he had a home cooked meal. “Before I came to Duskwood, I wandered aimlessly helping those who needed help but always, hopelessness followed me like a shadow.”

He gazed into the crackling fireplace next to them, eyes reflecting old memories. “I lost much in the Third War.”

Althea nodded with understanding and sympathy. “It was a terrible time and we are still trying to heal from the scars.”

“My love. My soulmate. My best friend died in the war,” Belion spoke solemnly.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“If it only ended there,” he said, “but she returned to me, not as I remembered her but as an abomination of nature under the thrall of the Scourge.”

Althea sat in shock.

“I had to kill her,” Belion stared into the flames again.

Althea sat silent, unable to reply.

“I was without hope until now,” Belion said. “I found Hope in your town.”

“How is that possible?” Althea was genuinely surprised. “Of all the people in Azeroth, our townfolk are the most cursed.”

“And yet you continue to fight.”

“Because we cannot give up…” Althea replied instinctively and stopped. She was now understanding what Belion saw.

He smiled. “You fight against impossible odds yet you never give up. You cling to that hope that one day this darkness will be lifted. You believe things can change and refuse to let the darkness overwhelm you. Your resilience inspires me but it is your hope that saved me. So, thank you.”

“You continue to confound me, Belion.” Althea closed her hand on his, “let’s just say we are thankful for each other.”

Belion grinned. “That is a marvelous idea.”

Althea smiled but her joy quickly vanished as a thundering wail pierced her ears.

“I hunger!” cried the booming voice.

Belion lept into action, grabbing his bow and ran outside. With two fingers in his lips, he whistled for his companion. Maya rushed to his side almost immediately, her senses razor sharp.

“What do you sense, Maya?”

Undead. The stench is almost unbearable. Whatever it is, it is large.

Althea joined the hunter and the cat still strapping on her armor. A small group of men ran to her waiting for her orders.

“Gather your men and setup a perimeter around the town,” she began to bark orders. She pointed to a young man with bright red hair, “Preston, you get the women and children to safety. Make sure the civilians are out of harms way.”

“Aye Commander,” Preston said with a salute before taking off.

Belion turned to Althea, “You know what we are dealing with?”

“Stitches,” she answered.

Belion wondered what this undead creature was but his question was quickly answered. Althea pointed behind him. When he turned around he saw it lumbering its way towards them from the edge of town. Stitches was a gruesome creature resembling a large ogre, patched up with various parts and its putrid innards hanging on bloodied ribs.

“Elune guide my bow,” Belion whispered under his breath.

Hope in Darkness

It was early morning at Darkshire. The sun had already peaked over the horizon but the gloom of the continuous fog in Duskwood kept the town bleak and gloomy. The townsfolk were already up and about, carrying torches to light up the unnatural darkness.

It had been a few weeks since Belion and Maya arrived on the continent of Azeroth, the rumors of horrors in the depths of Duskwood reaching even his ears in the far-off land of Ashenvale. After making the long journey by ship to Menethil Harbor, the pair had made another long trek to the haunted lands of Duskwood hoping they could aid in some way. Belion was unprepared for the horrors that awaited them.

He stepped out of the inn, wrapping his cloak around his body to shelter him from the morning cold. Everything seemed ordinary until his eyes locked onto a small party of humans, all armed like warriors. They seemed battered and a couple of the soldiers were leaning upon their companions as they walked. Trying his best to stay inconspicuous, Belion strolled over to them to ease drop.

“It’s never going to end, I tell ya,” one soldier said, who happened to be holding up another man whose leg was bandaged around the thigh.

“We have to try,” an older man with a great grey mustache in plate replied. “I won’t give up my home.”

“Neither will I,” agreed another.

‘’But our numbers dwindle as their numbers grow,” a thin pale faced man added, bloodstains spotting his chain armor. “And now ole Rodger will come back to fight us,” the man swallowed hard trying to hold in his grief. “You die in the cemetery, those ghouls eat your brain and you come back like them, just as hungry…”

“Dronan, don’t fall into hopelessness,” the older man spoke again. “Everyday, adventurers come to aid us. Stormwind might have turned their backs on us, but there are still good folk willing to stand with us.”

Belion sighed. The corruption in Ashenvale was bad but not nearly as horrible as Duskwood. He feared the undead taint would fall upon his homeland as well. But for now, his heart felt only sorrow for the brave humans who were willing to face incredible odds to defend their homes. He admired their resilience.

The remainder of their conversation was muffled as the small group of soldiers moved on towards one of the shops nearby, the light of their torches fading behind the thick mist. Belion stood alone lost in his thoughts until he felt a tug on his cloak. Turning his head, he saw a small girl, not even 10 years old standing next to him with her hand clutched on his cloak.

“Sir, have you seen my father?” she asked, a look of worry etched across her face. Her delicate auburn hair was in braids and she dragged behind her a small teddy bear stuffed with wool.

“Who is your father, little one?” Belion asked back, crouching down to face her directly. She stared back with deep brown puppy dog eyes.

“Mr. Emerson. I’m Tilla Emerson,” she answered as she shifted nervously. “His name is Rodger Emerson. My father is all I got. My mother died when I was born.”

Belion stiffened at the sound of the name. Anger swelled up within him as he realized another child was orphaned due to the plague of the undead. And like a crashing wave, the painful memories of his past swept into him. How many more would die and succumb to the plague of the undead? Would the tragedy of his past return to haunt him, to torment him wherever he went?

For a brief moment Belion and Tilla stared at each other, fear flowing through both of them. He tried to grasp at the words, trying to find a way to tell the child the painful reality. Anger turned to frustration. Frustration was forming into hopelessness. The trauma of despair would have hit him but she yelled out, “Father!”

He rose quickly and turned around. Three men walked towards them, all of them holding large baskets of assorted vegetables. For three farmers who were returning from their morning harvest, they were unusually heavily armed with short swords and daggers.

“Tilla Emerson!” the first man said. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself.” The other men waved good-bye leaving behind the man to talk to his daughter.

“But father, you were gone for so long…” she whimpered.

“Child, you know I harvest the fields every morning around this time.”

“But the monsters…”

“Which is why I never go alone,” Rodger set his basket down and hugged his now crying daughter. “You know Mr. Peak, Mr. Waslow and I always travel together when we leave town.” The words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Tilla continued to weep on her father’s shoulder.

Embracing her tightly, Rodger tried to console her daughter, “Pumpkin, I will not let you be an orphan.” Tilla squeezed harder, rubbing her face on his collar wiping her tears in the process.

“Promise?” Tilla whispered between sniffles.

“Promise.”

Belion watched the father and daughter hug again and a weight lifted from his soul. There was hope even in this gloomy land. Rodger stood up, lifting his daughter onto his shoulders who stopped crying, content in the knowledge her father was safe. Rodger looked up to face Belion.

“Well met, night elf. I’m Rodger Emerson. I believe you’ve already met my daughter Tilla.”

“Yes, I have,” Belion smiled, “she is a beautiful child.” Tilla blushed slightly.

“Well, thank you for watching over her,” Rodger said.

“No, it is I who should thank you.”

Rodger seemed confused as Belion started walking back into the inn.

Before stepping inside, Belion turned around to say one more thing. “Oh and Rodger Emerson…”

“Yes?”

“I promise as well.”

Rodger’s eyes met Belion’s and some internal connection was formed. There was an understanding, an invisible kinship uniting the two. Rodger held his teary eyes and just nodded. Tilla glanced back and forth curious of the change in the mood. With a respectful bow, Belion disappeared into the inn.

“Do you know that night elf, father?” Tilla asked in wonderment. “Who is he?”

“Hope, Pumpkin. Hope.”

Duskwood

Beads of sweat formed on Belion’s brow while faint mumbles escaped his breath. His eyes rolled beneath their eyelids as the dreams stirred in his mind. His right hand gripped the frame of the bed tight, the fingers wrapping around the wired frame like the hilt of a sword. Teeth grinding and his other hand rolled into a fist, Belion dreamt the horrors he faced the night before…

The skeletal warriors charged at him and his courageous pet, Maya defended him with her life. Bones were shattered and blades cut through decayed flesh as they defended themselves against the attacking undead. Just when the Belion thought it was over, the ghouls started another wave. Plague Spreaders and Brain Eaters crept towards them, in hopes of feasting upon their warm flesh and still beating heart.

Maya mauled a Plague Spreader, her vicious fangs sinking deep into the throat of the creature. After firing off a volley of arrows dropping another ghoul beside her, Belion charged in with twin blades, a battle cry echoing from his throat.

The ghoul reached for his neck or what was left of it after Maya ripped a large portion of the undead’s throat. Only the spine of the filthy creature kept its head from fully separating from the body. Before the ghoul could counter, Belion cleaved into the creature, tearing through the torso. The Plague Spreader made no sound as it crumpled to the ground, the stench of rotted flesh filtering into Belion’s nose.

Exhausted but grateful the fight was over, Belion turned only to find Mor’ladrim standing before him. Eyes widened with horror as Mor’ladrim moved to the side, revealing another who was hidden behind his massive frame. Belion’s eyes grew wide in shock and anguish as Caressa’s decayed body marched towards him.

With a sudden jolt, Belion woke up and his eyes met the soulful eyes of his faithful cat Maya, who was standing on hind legs to perch herself next to her master.

Another bad dream?

“Yes, Maya,” Belion thought to answer his cat through the telepathy created by their spiritual bond.

I thought you no longer had bad dreams?

“I didn’t until we came to Duskwood,” Belion replied sitting up while rubbing his face trying to remove the images of his nightmare. The room was spacious but at that very moment it felt like the catacombs beneath the cemetery. The walls were closing in and Belion needed to step outside or someone to return his senses.

He got up from the bed rubbing his face. “I need to take a walk.”

Grabbing his cloak that was draped against a chair, Belion secured it on his back, the weight of the cloak resting gently upon his shoulders flowing gently down his back. Maya padded towards him, eager to follow her master.

“Just me this time,” Belion commanded.

But it is dangerous out there.

“I won’t leave town,” Belion explained. Maya understood there would be no changing of his mind and sulked to her corner.

Dreams Part II

Something caused Belion to wake up in the middle of the night. He thought he had heard a voice, Anaya’s voice, but it was just a dream that haunted him.

The evening was pleasantly calm. The seaside inn at Auberdine was extremely comfortable and peaceful. The rhythmic lullaby of gentle soothing crashing waves of the nearby sea always brought good rest to all the patrons of the inn. With only a slight chill in the air, it was the perfect evening to snuggle beneath the blankets in satisfying sleep. But Belion had woken up, disturbed by the dream and the voices.

Bad dreams again?

The voice entered Belion’s mind. He knew only one person, more precisely, one cat who could do that. “Yes Maya,” he replied as he watched his faithful cat stroll up to his bed.

“I wish to let go, I truly do,” Belion replied, “but her memory haunts me and tonight as I watched Cerellean speak with Anaya’s spirit, all my pain flooded back to me.”

The moonstalker stared at Belion with understanding eyes. I felt your pain this evening but you will not heal if you do not let go.

“Maybe I do not wish to be healed…”

I do not believe that. I see life in you. I see the raging fire of a hunter in your soul just waiting to be free again. You know what I say is true.

“You are so like your mother,” Belion hugged the great cat, smoothing out her fur, “you never give up on me.”

As long as I have breath.

The elf smiled but the memories of the dream and Caressa washed over his mind again. “It’s hard Maya. Like Cerellean and Anaya, I had to destroy her as well,” Belion sat down. “How do you move on from that?”

Knowing her spirit is free and that you freed her from the bondage of the Scourge. And knowing she would want you to live. Maya rubbed her head affectionately against Belion’s chest. She looked up with soulful eyes. Do not taint her memory by letting your spirit die.

Staring back at each other, Belion and Maya sat at the balcony in silence. There were no more words, just a sense of understanding and empathy. The waves crashed again, the roar of the sea echoing in the background. And as the waves fell back into the open waters, it carried some of Belion’s burdens with them.

Belion smiled. “Thank you my faithful friend,” he got up, petting Maya on the back of the head, “I will try.”

The cat nodded. And if you’ll excuse me, I plan to have some beauty sleep. Beauty such as mine does not come free.

Belion muffled his chuckle as he pulled the covers of his bed around him. Slowly but surely, his eyes closed taking him into blissful sleep. The dreams did not haunt him again that night.

Dreams Part I

Belion lay on his bed flat on his back, resting his head on his arms, staring into the ceiling. Never the type to fall asleep right away he rested pondering over the last few days and listening to the sounds around him. Beyond the open window, crickets were chirping, owls were hooting and downstairs the patrons of the inn were about, cheerfully chatting between themselves or running hastily to finish whatever errands they had to run. In other words, it was another typical day in Dolanaar.

But something stirred in Belion’s thoughts and would not leave him. The last few days were enjoyable. It reminded him of days of old when he traveled across Ashenvale, before the war, before the Burning Legion, when there was peace. Nature was in full bloom before the Legion came and tainted the forests. It was even more enjoyable because of…her.

The spectre of her would not leave his mind. Like the corruption that tainted the forests around Dolanaar that prevented the healing, so did this spectre haunt Belion’s dreams, not letting him go free.

Eventually his eyelids closed as drowsiness and the long day took over his body. The dreams came as vivid as day…

“Hurry Belion, or we will lose the stag!” Caressa yelled, running swiftly through the brush.

“Right behind you love,” Belion sped up chasing the female elf.

Caressa came to a sudden stop and proceeded to move carefully like a shadow. Camouflaged by thick brush, she saw her prey: a great antlered stag. Approaching silently as her, Belion crouched next to her and saw the magnificent beast.

“As good as ever love,” Belion leaned over close to Caressa’s ears, resisting the temptation to do more than just whisper, “your tracking skills continue to amaze me”

Caressa smiled, “I have a great teacher.”

The pair moved in unison, close enough to make their move…

Belion stirred in his sleep, turning over, an anguished look wrinkling his face…

“Where is she?” Belion yelled out almost throttling the young male night elf warrior.

“I am sorry Captain,” the young elf struggled to say the words, unable to keep his eyes on Belion, “she fell to the Scourge.”

Belion let go of the elf, heartache and pain gripping his heart. The emotions rushed through his body and caused him to stumble as his head lost focus. The young elf caught him before he fell over.

“I am sorry Captain,” the elf said, sorrow in his eyes. “She fought with courage. Because of her sacrifice, at least a dozen elves were saved.”

“I should have been with her…” Belion stared at the ground, bile rising in his throat.

The young elf did his best to console, “You were needed here Captain and she was needed there.” He gently helped Belion to sit down. “I am truly sorry for your loss but do not blame yourself for this.” Belion began to weep.

Naya sat a few yards away, hearing the conversation. A tear formed in her eye as she felt her master’s broken soul.

Belion shifted again in his bed. Tossing and turning, his face became even more contorted as beads of sweat formed on his brow. His shirt became wet with perspiration as the dreams changed again. In his slumber, he failed to notice Maya approach his bed with worried eyes.

The battle was fierce but the night elves were gaining the upper hand. Although much of Ashenvale was ruined, the elves had managed to push the Legion and the Scourge back. Instead of being on the defensive, Tyrande made the push for the elven army to bring the fight to the heart of the Scourge.

Belion fought like an elf possessed. The undead fell to his piercing arrows and those who managed to stay standing after being shot, were quickly dispatched by his twin blades and Naya’s fangs. From his vantage point, he saw the undead mage who was leading this small group of Scourge minions. Anger and determination filled Belion as he carved his way towards the mage.

Managing a clear view of the mage, Belion fired off an arrow, hitting the unsuspecting mage in the leg. The vile creature cried out in pain, turning around to face his attacker.

“Kill him,” the mage hissed. On that command, another undead creature moved towards Belion brandishing twin swords.

Belion readied his bow again, the undead creature’s head in his sights. A sudden wave of emotions hit him as he saw the face. Stunned, he dropped his bow, frozen in place and unable to make a sound.

It was Caressa. Or it was once Caressa. Now she was an abomination of nature, as her decaying body moved towards him seeking blood.

“No…it cannot be,” Belion whispered, still standing still. Caressa moved closer, raising her sword to strike at his head. Without her memories, Belion was nothing more than another enemy to be destroyed.

Naya pounced on Caressa before she could strike. The great cat held her down with her mighty paws. Her thoughts reached out to Belion.

“Belion, you must focus,” Naya pleaded. “Caressa is dead. This is not her.”

The undead creature managed to free her arm and slash her dagger across Naya’s side, deeply wounding the cat. Naya fell over with a roar as her blood spilled to the ground. With the moonstalker off her, Caressa got back up ready to deliver the finishing blow on the defenseless cat.

An arrow struck Caressa in the shoulder blade, the force of the strike causing her to drop her sword. She turned around only to have another arrow hit her in the stomach. Belion fired arrow after arrow, his face expressionless and cold.

Eventually she fell to her knees, a dozen arrows sticking out of her. Belion watched, with another arrow ready but Caressa finally keeled over completely without making a sound.

Belion rushed over to Naya, and carefully checked the wound and began to mend it. The cat stared at her master. His expression was blank and she could feel his heart and soul closing.

“I am sorry Belion,” Naya said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Belion replied with a hollow voice. “Like you said, it wasn’t her, not anymore.”

The battle had ended when Caressa fell. The other night elves had managed to defeat the remaining undead and the mage. But as Naya watched her master, to her it did not seem like a victory.

Belion’s eyes flew open. Only a few feet away, Maya was staring right into his eyes.

Bad dreams?

Belion sighed. He didn’t turn over nor did he move. He just stared back.

“We go to Auberdine tomorrow. You are big enough to travel now.”

Maya nodded slightly and walked away.

You didn’t answer me…