It seemed as if the cool breezes of the night took on a harsher chill. Lungs aching painfully at the lack of air, the Night Elf dared not look back as she sprinted over the bodies of her fallen comrades, clutching the tiny newborn tightly to her chest. The pale faces of the dead soldiers seemed almost mocking.
Glancing up towards the tree line that seperated Ashenvale from the Barrens, the elf nearly choked with realization and horror. She would die. Fear crawled through her veins like an icy serpent, as if slowing her movement even more; constricting.
Fear not for herself, but the tiny infant she held. Her child.
Already, she was close enough to the borders of Ashenvale to hear a small troupe of orcs walking through the bushes; to see the deadly gleam of their weapons.
An ambush.
If the orcs behind her failed to catch up, she knew that the ones ahead would make up for their inability to off her. She looked back, measuring the distance between her and the orcs chasing her, and came to a halt. Letting out a loud whistle that sounded like the liquid trill of a birdsong, her cat-like eyes scanned her surroundings.
One minute...
Her breath came out in visible small wisps, a result of the cool night, as she broke out into a fast jog, eyes still scrutinizing the dirt hillsides of the Barrens. A streak of silver came into view, and a relieved smile spread across the elf's face. An agonized feral roar ripped through the night, coming from the frostsaber that was fast approaching.
Running beside the saber now, the elf quickly adjusted one of the fairly large bags that hung off of the frostsaber, fitting the elfling child into the pouch. Gripping the reins of the frostsaber, the elf nimbly leapt up into the saddle, and forced the animal even faster, the constant pad of its' paws against the rough ground of the Barrens was unnerving.
500 yards.
250.
Her breaths came short and shallow, readying herself for the short battle. All she needed was a distraction. Looking down desperately at her child, her eyes softened as she picked up the infant for the last time, kissing her daughter on the forehead.
"Ande'thoras-ethil, Keina Nightwing"
Placing the child back down in the makeshift pouch, she pulled her sword from its' ash black sheathe attached to her leather belt.
100 yards. Almost there...
50. Just a little closer...
20.
"Tor ilisar'thera'nal!" Jumping off of the frostsaber, sword raised, she came crashing down on one of the shocked orcs, not counting on the move she made. Her sword came down swiftly, slicing through his leather armor and cutting deeply into his green skin. Splatters of red graced the soft earth of ashenvale. Throwing her sword up barely in time to parry the sword of another orc, she sidestepped, her sword slicing into his side. Maneuvering behind the orc, she stabbed him in the back.
Raising her head slightly, she could see her child and the frostsaber disappearing into the thick woods.
Parry, stab, dodge, attack, block.
Exhaustion began to take over the elf, as her moves became less precise and slower.
It was over.
Ande'thoras-ethil - May your troubles be diminished (A farewell)
Tor ilisar'thera'nal - Let our enemies beware! (A war-cry)
ninja.this here! This is my first ever fanfic and I hope that the prologue wasn't that bad, and I apologize for it being somewhat short. Some constructive criticism is appreciated 'coz I know that my writing isn't perfect.
Please R&R.
