The forest of Ashenvale echoed with a chorus of the diverse wildlife. As the setting sun shined brightly through the small gaps between the large, leaf-covered trees. A lone wolf cautiously lowered it's head to a stream, and lapped up the clear water calmly. It's tail, hanging between it's legs, and the fur on it's back lying flat, revealed the creature's unawareness, of the two Night Elves hiding, crouched in a grouping of bushes across the stream. One was very old. His reddish face wrinkled slightly, and his gray hair hanging far below his shoulders. The other one was merely a child, his hair short, and his skin pale blue.
"Be very still…" The older one advised in barely a whisper. "Ghostpaw wolves' senses are incredibly keen. Only the water masks our scent.
The young elf nodded slightly, and continued to look on with wide yellow eyes. As he slowly moved one of his feet forward, it caught itself under a root and the young elf lost his balance, and he fell forward.
The wolf's white fur immediately shot up in surprise and anger, at the sudden interruption. It's lips pulled back, revealing two rows of large pointed teeth that seemed more than able to rip the boy to shreds. Just as the growling wolf looked ready to charge, the older Night Elf stood up out of the bushes, with an arrow aimed at the animal's head. The creature, although far from cowardly, knew it had lost it's advantage, and quickly dashed into the woods.
The older elf quickly helped the younger elf up. "Are you alright, Eamden?"
"Yeah." he said, his face red in embarrassment . "…I'm sorry for causing that wolf to see us, Aneren."
Aneren surprised Eamden with a forgiving pat on the shoulder. "It is not important. Your safety on the other hand, is."
Eamden slowly felt his embarrassment fade. "I wish I was as strong as you, Aneren."
The older elf smiled. "Be patient Eamden, your day will come. You show much promise for one who's journey has only just begun. You will become a great hunter….One day."
The young elf couldn't stop himself from letting loose a wide grin. "Really?" His imagination wandered as he tried to picture what he'd look like when he would become a hunter.
"Oh, yes." Aneren said. "Greater than Silmarith Moonbreeze, himself."
Eamden idolized the famous hunter who led many victories for the Alliance, before his presumed death on the battlefield. Most believe his body was buried in the hills of ashen vale, but a few say he still lives, wandering the barren's after his final battle.
The young elf was about to ask something, but Aneren started in first. "The sun is beginning to set. Your mother will begin to worry if you don't return home."
"Okay…" Eamden said, a little disappointed by how fast the time seemed to disappear right in front of him. He then gave a mischievous grin. "Race ya!" he said quickly, before bolting off in the direction his home in Astraanar. After a few seconds of furious sprinting, Eamden looked behind him to see if the old elf had even decided to give chase. He saw no sign of him.
"You're slower than a one-legged ogre!" Aneren shouted from in front of him, running in long fluid motions.
"Hey, no fair!…Wait up!" the small elf called, indignantly.
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As the two night elves reached Eamden's home near Astranaar, The young elf, Eamden, was completely out of breath. He was breathing so hard he thought his lungs would pop. Aneren on the other hand didn't seem to have broken a sweat. Eamden would have been amazed by this if he wasn't already feeling like he was going to collapse.
"Let's agree on a tie." Aneren said to the worn out Eamden, who nodded in agreement, even though they both knew Aneren was twenty paces ahead the entire time.
"Farewell, Eamden. I will return tomorrow, and show you more of the forest."
The young elf, immediately perked up upon hearing this. "Okay!"
Eamden's father died, in service of the Alliance, when he was just born. Leaving Aneren to watch over him and guide him. And just as Aneren watches over him like a son, Eamden loves Aneren like a father.
Upon entering his home, he was taken by surprise by the delicious aroma coming from the table. A freshly caught, and cooked slitherskin mackerel was lying on a plate on the table. It looked like it had been taken off the fireplace no more than five minutes ago. Eamden's mouth watered. He looked around the room to make sure no one was watching, and then slowly reached out to taste the food. Just a small bite. No one would notice it.
"Care to wait until I set the table?" His mother said, spying on him from the stair's. She laughed as her son, caught red handed, immediately attempted to make it look as if he had never even seen the cooked mackerel.
"Uh,.. Hello Mother!" He said, sheepishly. "Just, uh, cleaning off the table!"
His mother laughed even harder this time. "It's alright, Eamden. Just wash up and I'll finish setting the table."
Without a word, the boy immediately raced up the stairs, past his mother, who sighed and gave him a look of affection.
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After his supper, Eamden changed into his sleeping clothes, and his mother saw him off to bed, with a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, Eamden."
"Goodnight mother." he replied, sleepily, Quietly crawling into bed.
That night he dreamed he was standing in the middle of a blazing desert, after a colossal battle. Blood coated weapons lay next to splintered shields, and battered armor. The bodies lying before him were of Night Elf and Orc. Countless numbers of each were strewn across the field, while large buzzards picked at their remain with their featherless heads. Sitting far away, across, from him was a Ghostpaw wolf. It's body relaxed, and it's golden eyes piercing straight through him. The same fear that struck Eamden earlier that day, was attacking him once again. Eamden tried to run away, but to his horror, felt the rock-solid grip of hands holding his feet in place. He looked down to see the previously dead bodies suddenly come back to life. He screamed, and thrashed, desperately trying to break free from the many hands the slowly began to pull him down towards them. The bodies soon began to swarm on top of him, and all he could see was the white wolf, unmoving and silent….
Eamden woke from his nightmare with a scream as his mother shook him violently out of his dream. "Eamden, we have to leave now!" She said, her eyes filled with fear.
"What's wrong?" he said.
"There's no time! We have to leave now!" She snapped. She pulled him out of bed, and carried him down the stairs.
"I'm scared…" Eamden whispered to his mother. She held him even tighter and was about to open the door when all of a sudden, noises were heard on the other side. They were not the voices of his kin, they were too deep and rough.
His mother spun around immediately and ran back up the stairs, back to Eamden's room. She carried him to a window in the back of the house, and slowly began lowering him.
"What are you doing, mother?" He asked, his throat tightened in fear.
She looked at him, her eyes, wet with tears. "I want you to find Aneren, and stay with him. Okay?"
The young Night Elf began to sob. "Where are you going?! Don't leave me!" He pleaded.
"I'm sorry." She said, tears rolling smoothly down her cheeks. "Promise me you won't look back…"
Eamden couldn't answer. His crying became even louder, and more ragged.
"I love you…" She whispered. With said she let go of her child. As she saw him land in the grass, she heard the door getting kicked in. She spun around quickly and moved to intercept the intruders from discovering her son, out the window.
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Eamden slowly picked himself up, and wiped away his tears. Remembering what his mother had said, he began to run, and find Aneren. But he took no more than two steps before he heard his mother cry out in pain. His mind told him to run, but his body began to sneak around the house, and hide behind a couple of old barrels. He watched as two Orc's dragged his mother's limp form outside in front of the house. They set her down in front of another Orc, clad completely in dark armor. The Orc removed his helmet to reveal an olive colored face, and a pair of blood red eyes. He looked down at the stunned Night Elf with a feeling of cold disgust, and no mercy. In one resolute motion, the Orc unsheathed a small sword, and ran her through with it. She cried out in pain, and then fell over, unmoving, as a pool of blood seeped into the ground.
"NO!" he cried out suddenly, his face streaked with dirt and tears. The three orcs quickly took notice and unsheathed large, cruel looking axes. Eamden's head was cluttered with emotions and thoughts, but all he hear was his mother telling him to find Aneren.
"Find Aneren." He whispered, just before suddenly dashing to the left of the Orcs, and running for the bridge.
"Kill him." the Orc leader commanded to the two other warriors. They immediately ran after the boy like uncaged beasts hoping to rip there prey limb from limb. Soon more Orcs appeared out of the shadow's and approached their leader.
"Astranaar is a short distance down this path. They still don't know of out presence. What shall we do?"
"Burn everything. Leave no survivors…"
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Eamden ran through the clearing as fast as he could. He couldn't hear anything with the blood pumping through his long pointed ears, and he dared not look behind him, in case he tripped. His legs ached with each step, but he couldn't stop now. Aneren's camp was just through the these trees. Just as the Elf thought he was home free, he felt a large arm pick him up roughly and slam him down hard into the ground. The breath was knocked out of him, and he struggled for air as one of the two Orcs raised his axe to quickly silence the young elf. Eamden could see it was the end. He closed his eyes and thought of happier times, waiting for the axe blade to finish him off. It never came.
As Eamden slowly opened his eye, he looked, stunned, at the lifeless body of the Orc before him. Three elven arrows were embedded in his chest, while the other Orc was desperately trying to fend off Aneren's lightning quick dagger thrusts. The old elf easily ducked under a clumsy swing of the Orc's axe, and then in one motion he jumped forward and cut a deep slice in to the Orc's throat. The large creature fell to the ground, while hot blood spurted from his mortal wound.
Aneren ran over to Eamden and helped him to his feet. "Are you alright?"
Eamden nodded slightly, not able to look Aneren in the eye. "Yeah."
"Where's your mother? Is she alright?" He asked.
"No." the young Night Elf choked out, suddenly feeling a fresh wave of tears slide down his face. "She's gone…."
Aneren picked the child up and walked mournfully back towards his camp. He would be on his guard tonight.
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Hope you enjoyed the chapter, i'll try to update sooner or later. If you want to leave a review, you're more than welcome. i promise to reply to any reviews or emails.