The hallway was quiet, save the steady sound of little talons tapping along at a quick pace. The leaping hatchling held in his short arms a tiny, mangled body. But this one kill, he took no pride in. He picked up his pace, desperate to get to his destination in time. Hopefully he wasn't too late… the small glimmer of hope was the only thing propelling him down the long hallway. There was only one person that could help him now, he knew.

He was running out of time. He clutched the body closer to his chest and ran as fast as his little legs would take him. He lost a feather from his armband, but he ignored it. He could replace those. He was fighting for something that could never be replaced, not in a million years. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he saw a light shining out from under one of the doors. He had been there many times, but never had the circumstances been so dire. He stood outside the door and scratched at it desperately with the sharp talons on his feet, until finally, mercifully, it opened wide revealing his only hope.

XxOxX

"Barnabas!" I called out, surprised. The raptor hatchling looked absolutely despondent. I shook my head as he passed under my legs and made his way to my desk where I had been grading papers prior. Preparing for only a moment he leapt up onto my chair, then up to the desk, coming dangerously close to my inkwell.

The little blue raptor chirped mournfully, and it was then that I saw what he clutched so desperately to his chest with his tiny hands. "Oh Barnaby.." I made my way over to my chair and sat down, surveying the damage. I chuckled to myself. "Don't worry, little silly. It's an easy fix." Gingerly, I lifted the body from his grasp.

The squeak toy had a tear from the right eye, which was missing, down to the neck. Stuffing was spilling out the hole, but it hadn't lost too much. Thankfully, my tailoring skills, which had been set aside for teaching the history of Azeroth to university students, were still as sharp as ever. I reached down and opened the bottom drawer of my desk, where I kept supplies for such emergencies.

I pulled out the purple drawstring bag and set it next to my patient. Barnaby tapped his toes on the hard maple desk, clearly worried. I pat him on the head gently and told him, "Perhaps you should sit down. This may take a few minutes." He chirped quietly in response, and settled himself in my lap, where he started to pick at my robe. I decided to let him be, because after all, his best friend was in surgery.

I chuckled at the toy, which looked more like a seaweed monster than a Murloc. I had bought it for him from a traveling goblin salesman. It was green and purple, with buttons for eyes and made of sturdy mageweave cloth. Sure, I looked at it and thought it was cute, but Barnaby fell in love instantly. Who am I to refuse those big eyes?

Shaking my head, I dug through the bag looking for a small green button to replace the missing eye. I was almost done. Barnaby was fast asleep now, his worry taking a toll on him. I wrapped the enchanted thread around my needle three times, then pushed it through once more to tie off my stitching. That should hold it for a good long while. I smiled to myself as I looked over the toy. It was immaculately clean, considering he took it everywhere with him. I looked over my past emergency work. The finger I sewed back on was still holding up nicely. The excessively large fins on its head were looking okay, despite the patch where I had to use part of my own robe that I was still wearing, mind you, to fill in a hole where the fabric was missing completely. The color was close… but not quite the same. Not that he minded. In fact, he seemed to only love the toy more.

"Barnaby, wake up." I patted his head. His eyes shot open at once, and he lifted his head. "Look!" I held the toy out to him, squeaking it a few times for good measure. He couldn't have been more delighted. He hopped back on to the desk and chirped his thanks, taking his baby back, good as new.

He continued his chirping out the door and down the hall, sounding almost like he was singing. I grinned at his departing figure, his tail swishing back and forth happily.

"Oh Barnaby," I muttered to myself, "Sometimes I think I adore you more than I did my own kids when I was alive..." I said, glancing at a small painting on my wall of my once-husband and children, who had long since disowned me in undeath. Barnaby was my only companion now, besides my students. But that was okay with me.

I could still hear him as he played in the hall with his squeaky murloc toy.