The only sound Sylvari could hear was the irregular drip of the orcish blood falling from her fingers to the forest floor. Clasped in her other hand was a set of prayer beads, old, worn and until recently adorning the now mangled neck of the orc at her feet.
She wiped her gore-covered mouth with her hand, effectively smearing even more blood across her face. The green-haired druid did not seem to notice, though, eyes transfixed on the beads in her hand, as her mind started to replay events of centuries past.
The young night elf found herself falling forward as the massive nightsaber pounced on her from behind. Albeit late, instincts kicked in and she thrashed violently, trying to get the attacker off before attempting to strike back. Next thing she knew, though, coarse fur was replaced by warm skin and soft white, cascading hair. She stopped her protests and relaxed her body, rolling her eyes.
"An appalling performance, Sentinel Windsong. All that training, and a novice druid can incapacitate you so easily," a mirthful voice spoke from behind her ear.
"Get off me! All that training and you would assume your teachers would impart some much-needed wisdom, as well!" Her words were slightly muffled by the grass, but she soon heard a hearty laugh erupt from her assailant, before he removed his weight from on top of her.
Sylvari turned around and took the hand he'd offered to help her rise. As soon as she was on her feet, though, he tugged her close in a tight embrace.
"I have missed you so much, dalah'surfal." His breath tickled her ear as she pulled him even closer, her eyes squeezed shut to stop the tears of joy from escaping.
"Kalian, I-" Sylvari pulled back to cradle his face in her hands, smiling. "I did not think I would see you for another year. How are you here?"
"I'm accompanying the Keeper on a trip to several groves. I had to beg him to take me along once I heard our home was among them. We do not have long, we're only stopping for a few days."
"Then let us cherish them," she said, and stood on her tip-toes to press their lips together, hands now playing with the prayer beads around his neck.
An ugly grimace made its way onto her tear-streaked face as Sylvari's eyes focused on the corpse in front of her. The orc was wearing furs and leathers, quite fresh by the smell of them. A crude bow lay broken next to her mangled body. A hunter, by the looks of her. Alone? Perhaps not. She was not carrying any large satchels, so her camp must have been close. And orcs did not venture this far into Ashenvale on their own, war or not. As her golden eyes followed the obvious trail left behind by the hunter, Sylvari's brows furrowed even closer together. She knew what one might find in that direction, and judging by the presence of the prayer beads, it was the logical deduction.
Suddenly, after what felt like ages of inaction, Sylvari clasped the prayer beads behind her neck, picked up the orc's severed head, and headed for Astranaar, in the opposite direction. She had some preparations to make.
Even after years away from her home, Sylvari still knew every nook and cranny in the vicinity of her grove. As she drew closer, however, the signs of deforestation and defilement grew more and more evident. The druid's golden eyes, the only thing visible in the pitch black of the night, narrowed. This would be the first time she would return to her birthplace since leaving for her druidic training all those years ago.
The druid fidgeted with the beads around her neck as she allowed herself to get lost in thought, her feet carrying her toward her former dwelling.
She was on the verge of giving up for the night. For a week, she had been trying to get the roots to sprout out of the plant pot she held in her hands, and to no avail. Sylvari was growing more and more frustrated with herself, even as her shan'do's words flitted through her mind. 'It takes months, years, to master the druidic arts, Windsong. You will not be the first to do it in a few weeks.' She didn't have years, though. While the older druids had no time constraint looming over their heads, the immortality provided by Nordrassil offering them an eternity to master their craft, for her and the new generation of students that was a luxury they could not afford. She still had centuries ahead of her, but the Kaldorei were now mortal. In time, she would wither away and die, and she did not want that to happen before exploring all of Azeroth had to offer.
"Sylvari." Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. As she turned, the stern face of her mother greeted her. While it was no surprise to see the disappointed expression on her features, this time, something seemed off.
"Mother. I was not expecting you." Sylvari stood and started patting down her novice robes.
"No," her mother gestured for her to sit back down. "Don't get up." She unclasped her travel cloak from around her well-built frame. Her armour was damaged, and traces of blood and soot covered it.
Sylvari felt the blood drain from her own features. She waited for her mother to speak.
"The grove was attacked. Orc raid in the middle of the day. Only a few of us made it…" The rest of the words were drowned out by the sudden ringing in the young druid's ears.
Sylvari's hands found their way into her hair, her head bowed down as her brain tried in vain to process the terrible information. Suddenly, she looked up.
"What about Kalian?"
Her mother stopped speaking for an excruciating few seconds. Then, she spoke again, her features softening minutely. "I'm sorry."
Years later, Sylvari would reflect on the irony of the situation, that her mother would be the one to deliver her that awful news, when only months before that, their positions had been reversed. She shook the dire thought out of her head. Memories of her father were the last thing she wanted to conjure up now, lest she fail her mission before she even started it.
She assumed her owl form when she reached the perimeter, and flew up into the canopy, to survey the surroundings and scout the enemy. She should have been prepared for the sudden shock of seeing her once beautiful home simply… gone. All that remained were rotting tree stumps and the trampled traces of the formerly intricate paths that connected the dwellings of the grove. The houses were gone, they'd even taken the very stones that had made up the grove's small moonwell.
She tried to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat and to push down the feeling of helpless pain. Her eyes easily found the only source of light in the clearing: a campfire. An orc was sleeping with his back to it. Scanning the area, she detected another of the creatures, keeping watch while the other slept, no doubt. They seemed to be the only ones in the vicinity, the Horde having long since finished stripping the area of everything they needed. The sorrow was soon replaced by cold, calculated rage. It was time to make them pay, one orc at a time.
A distant crack startled the orc keeping watch over the hunting camp. Picking up his axe, he stood up, beady eyes trying to pierce the darkness before him. After a minute of fruitless searching, he shrugged and made to sit down again.
Another, even louder crack sounded in the woods. This time, the hulking creature grabbed hold of the axe with both hands, and started walking towards the mysterious sound. Sparing a glance behind him to check on his slumbering companion, he soon disappeared into the dark forest.
As the sound of disturbed foliage grew more and more silent, the orc making his way deeper into the trees, roots started sprouting from the earth around the sleeping orc. They positioned themselves around his limbs, and sprang into action all at once. They held him down as another, thicker root found its way into the creature's mouth and down his throat, effectively preventing any call for help while it tore him apart from the inside. Once the violent convulsions stopped, the bloodied roots retreated back into the ground, as silent as they emerged, the only sound in the glade being the crackling of the firewood and the wind softly rustling the tops of the canopy above.
"Damn critters and damn twigs. Damn creepy forest," the disgruntled voice of the axe wielder sounded in the clearing. "Brik? Brik! Wake up you milksop. Nap's over!" He walked over to the limp figure, and prodded it with the pommel of his axe. His companion's head lolled to the side, his face a bloody, unrecognisable mess.
Panic immediately filled the orc's face, but before he could react, a large nightsaber was upon him, claws digging into his shoulders and jaws attempting to bite his neck open. The big orc roared in pain and flailed around, trying to get the saber off of his back. His efforts were rewarded in the end, the cat sliding off, but not without rending his flesh in the process.
They circled each other now, narrowed black eyes meeting keen glowing ones. The nightsaber pounced first, charging at the orc and leaping at him, meeting only the handle of his axe before being thrown back. The blade soon followed, missing the saber's neck by inches, only managing to cut a deep slash into the druidic symbol on its shoulder.
The saber growled, jumping backwards to clear some space between herself and her opponent, before closing the distance again, this time going low, starting to swipe and snap at her enemy's ankles. The axe kept swinging and narrowly missing, the orc visibly and audibly getting more and more irritated. She slowly backed away with each move she made, leading the hulking beast to one of the larger stumps in the clearing.
With one final mighty swing, the axe planted itself firmly into the wood. The orc tried in vain to dislodge it, but to no avail. The saber was upon immediately upon him, and mere moments later, the fight was over.
Sylvari shifted back into her elven form, and stood up from on top of the dead orc. The blood she got on her muzzle as a saber was still there after shapeshifting, making her face a gruesome sight covered in blood and gore. She spat and wiped her mouth with a cloth from her satchel, and took a moment to calm down and observe her surroundings.
The fire light cast long, flickering shadows on the ground and tree stumps around, bathing the glade in an eerie glow, complementing the atmosphere perfectly. Even the orcs' best efforts could not fell the largest and most ancient of the trees around the former grove, whose canopies still managed to conceal most of the sky. Through the distant branches, however, only clouds could be seen, the Moon and stars remaining hidden. Oddly fitting, the druid thought, as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Her feet started carrying her to one of the largest of the massive trees, her hand caressing its bark upon reaching it. She circled it, and sat down between its great roots, letting herself be enveloped in the memories invoked by that particular place.
It was a beautiful night. Elune's light shone through the small openings in the canopy, creating brilliant beams shining throughout the trees. The only sounds were the distant rushing of the nearby stream, the gentle wind brushing the leaves, and a few nighthawks trilling their songs in the branches above.
Strong arms encircled her frame as she leaned back into her lover's embrace, the both of them tucked and hidden between the roots of the enormous tree. It had been a lovely few months, even in the aftermath of the battle of Hyjal, and this time, it would be her leaving tomorrow. She tried to enjoy it while she could, her eyes lightly shut as she played with Kalian's hair. She couldn't help herself from asking again, though.
"Are you sure you can't come with me to Moonglade? You could help me with my training, perhaps even further your own studies." She craned her neck to look at him, a pleading look in her eyes.
"I am needed here for the moment, unfortunately. I will join you soon enough, in only a few months. Nothing will keep me apart from you longer than that." He grinned, his hand caressing the markings on her face.
She sighed, but fell silent again, her fingers entwining with his as they enjoyed the peaceful night. Before long, though, Kalian turned her to face him, a timid expression gracing his normally confident features. Sylvari caught his eyes, one eyebrow quirked in amusement at his antics.
"Is something the matter, Kalian?"
"Will-" He cleared his throat. "Sylvari, when we are reunited in a few months… I wish for this to be the last time we are ever separated."
"That is my wish as well. And it will be." She smiled, hands clasping behind his neck and trying to pull him closer.
He resisted the tug. "What I meant was… I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you. I love you. And I always will."
Tears welled in Sylvari's eyes and a laugh escaped her mouth. "And I love you, dalah'surfal. And I always will."