Prologue
The morning light is bright in my eyes. I lie on a soft bed of grass, cool and untainted by pollution of a human land. The forests bordering Darnassus has become my home in the past few weeks, lying in wait. That makes me sound like a stalker, but it is the only way. I pet Toki, my Frostsaber, my shadow, who is yawning and batting his eyes sleepily. He knows what we are here for. He understands me; he is my constant friend. He cries when I take my other pets out to hunt, and he mews happily like a kitten when I return for him. I wish Milltharius would do the same.
A constant dream, a dream of his emerald hair tickling my chest, my neck as he kisses my body..Things that are all but a reality in this world. Milltharius - cool, collected, solitary. His blue hound Ashkaal the only being lucky enough to see him every day. His skill as a hunter has helped with his wish to be alone - he hides like a rogue stealthed, not noticable until he has shot his prey - or a figurative arrow through my heart. I have been enamoured since I first saw him, fishing by the pond, a pensive look of deep thought upon his stoic face. He did not notice me until I spoke, and even then only offered advice; nothing more.
He haunts me now, like a ghost, invading my dreams and fantasy. Mill and I sharing a bed, a kiss, my first love-making. The rogue Andillea is too close for me; she is beautiful yet terrifying. But she could not capture his heart, could she? Mythilus confided in me that Milltharius and his brother Shadewell (Mythilus' mate) grew up with Andillea. And the age gap between us - oh, how ruinous it could be! If only he could see how I feel. If only had could express his emotions like I can. I miss him so dearly, yet I have had no more contact for near a year now. When Toki moves, I imagine that it is Milltharius' imprint beside me.
Chapter One - The battlegrouds
Warsong Gulch. A name all know and many have had the displeasure of experiencing. A bloodbath for the Horde, a place of slaughter and resurrection. Many a brave solder has died on that field, but with the Horde's constant attacks, we cannot dare to leave it unattended. It is to this ground I have been summoned, as a young and inexperienced hunter. Mythilus Stormrunner, my teacher and friend, put me up for it. Untalented with a sword but gifted with a bow, I have searched for my calling for a long while now. Perhaps saving my people is it. Mythilus will be there, her love and partner Shadewell next to her, healing spells at the ready. I wonder if Milltharius has been called forward? He goes wherever the wind takes him..
We arrive at the gulch to a deserted field. I make a move forwards but Mythilus puts a restraining hand on my shoulder. As a high ranking Sentinel, she knows the moves of the Horde. She takes her hand off me and nods to start forward. A few other hunters and I move, bows at the ready. Suddenly, a young human girl wielding a crossbow shrieks and staggers forward to the ground. An undead rogue reveals himself. He grins a foul toothless grin and runs for it, fleeing across the grounds. 'Archers!' Mythilus calls. We fire into the air, a crossbow's bolt hitting the wiley rogue in the back. He tumbles forward and the Horde rush out of their hiding places, a blood elf priest resurrecting her fallen comrade. Mythilus rushes forward, sword held high and shield blocking her body. I send Toki in with the other hunter pets, he roars and leaps onto the chest of a paladin. Myth's charge knocks a runty Orc to the ground and stuns him for a minute before she releases a flurry of devastating moves on his, slicing his skin. He roars and whacks her across the head with a mace. I rush to the nearest bush, moving so if a rogue is behind me he cannot get close without alerting me. I aim my arrow and let it rip, sending a steady shot through the arm of a troll who rips it out and throws it down, looking around himself for the culprit. I duck behind a tree, but the troll sees me. He rushes forward, tracking me. I whimper and shut my eyes a minute, lining up a concussive shot. I can't bring myself to release the arrow at point blank range. An arrow flies past my head and hits the troll square in the chest, he falls, the effects of poison clearly taking over his body. I look around. Milltharius, proud and strong is upon the ridge. He ignores me, and fires another shot into the troll. He turns and runs to our defense team, Ashkaal close at his heels.
I jump to my feet and run after him. At least on defense I won't have that problem of firing close range. I stand in the entryway of a cave and fire three quick arcane-powered arrows into a blood elf racing toward us. He falls, mortally wounded. I turn to head into the cave and see a fallen Draenei, one horn broken, whimpering on the ground. My eyes fill with tears at the carnage that awaited inside. Brave night elves, humans and other alliance members lie dead or dying, the druids and priests setting to work on the most wounded first. Shadewell, purple hair tied back from his face, mutters healing magic to a Dwarf hunter, his pet looking forlorn at his bedside. Milltharius is standing by the doorway, arms crossed. He looks at me briefly, then turns away. I cannot bring myself to speak to him. Losing my focus in a serious moment is a sure fire way to unimpress him. Despite the carnage, the battle rages on.