Andrew Hart glanced down at the packages one last time before handing them over to his worgen messenger. They looked identical, right down to the blue wrapping paper and silver tags, but only one of them contained something other than a few rocks to make up weight.

"When you get to Stormwind, put these in the post straight away," he said, looking over his shoulder anxiously. He couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

Andrew had been carefull to disguise his activities in the past few months, but it was hard to keep secrets from his fellow rogues among the Syndicate. Everyone was suspicious and mistrustful of each other, always looking for some way to gain favour with the men and women in charge.

Perhaps even desiring to be one of the people in charge.

He watched as the worgen took to his mount, never taking his eyes off the woman until she had disappeared into the late afternoon sky. It had taken him longer than expected to get to Refuge Point, and the delay could prove costly. Andrew couldn't risk turning up in Duskwood until his package reached its destination, but if he lingered any longer near Syndicate lands his life would be in danger.

The Syndicate must not capture him, and they must never find out about the packages he sent. It would not take long to track them down, and if they fell into Syndicate hands again, then the Alliance would be in peril, not to mention his family.

Andrew pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, deciding to risk hiring a gryphon for the long journey to Ironforge. He'd then take the tram to Stormwind, and lose himself among the population of the great Alliance capital.

The fare was expensive; but Andrew was too anxious to barter, and too eager to avoid drawing attention to himself, so paid it without comment. As the cold wind of the Arathi Highands embraced him, his thoughts turned to the woman he'd been forced to involve in his mess, a woman who was now involved in a plot to destroy the very foundation of their world.

Aveline.

Aveline Hart shuddered as she heard the sound of spiders skittering through the nearby shadows . Duskwood was rife with monster arachnids, especially in heavily wooded areas like the land bordering her property on three sides. The Night Watch usually kept their numbers in check, but a recent incursion by feral worgen into Darkshire had meant animal control had been put on the back-burner.

She wished it were a school day, then she would at least have the company of her three younger sisters on the short trip into the town centre. Liara, Tali, and Samara were bright and bubbly girls with no fear whatsoever. Not like Aveline, who hated being alone and was afraid of her own shadow.

But it was Saturday, and her sisters were needed at home. Aveline's father, Patrick, was an alcoholic, and had been since his wife had died in childbirth a decade earlier. When he was home, Patrick was either too drunk or too hung over to do anything to help run their small household.

By default, Aveline was the head of the Hart household, and today, while her sisters cleaned the house, she was going to town to sell what produce could be spared from their small garden.

Aveline started to run as she noticed one of the spiders come hurtling out of the woods and onto the road. Years of practice had taught her the best way to deal with the horrid creatures; run like crazy, but not in a straight line. If you avoided their webbing, they'd give up chasing you after a while, and if they followed you into town then one of the Night Watch would kill them.

"Watcher Keefer!" Aveline called as she sped around a bend in the road, arriving in Darkshire's town centre. "Kill it!"

"On it, Aveline!" the young Watchman said, raising her sword and charging past to stab the arachnid. The creature let out a tormented shriek as it died, dark blood seeping out to stain the cobblestones.

"Thanks!" Aveline said, moving to check the spider's body for anything useful. She gathered a small amount of venom and silk, which she could use to make antivenom and thread. She looked to the guard. "Do you want any of this?"

"Nah, I'm good," Watcher Keefer replied, sheathing her sword. "You take it. Maybe sell it and buy yourself a weapon. You shouldn't be walking around here unarmed."

Aveline watched as the guard returned to her patrol, feeling embarrassment burn in her heart. She knew that Watcher Keefer had only been so generous because she knew how poor the Harts were, knew they had to salvage anything and everything they could just to survive.

Aveline admired the Watcher's kind heart, but wished that she herself could afford to be so generous. Just like she wished she could afford to move to Stormwind and become a priest. But it wasn't going to happen. Even if she had the money, there was no way she could leave her sisters.

Not for the first time, Aveline wished her older brother, Andrew, hadn't gone off adventuring. Seven years ago he'd left, swearing that he'd send them all the money he could. For three years, he'd kept that promise, and the Harts had been able to live a decent life. Aveline had even been able to undertake some priestly study, learning a few healing and shielding spells. They'd known what it was like to have a cupboard well-stocked with food, enough wood to see them through winter, and presents to give each other on their birthdays.

They'd known what it was like to live without charity.

Then the gold stopped coming. Weeks, and then months, went by without a single letter arriving to explain what had happened, why Andrew was ignoring his family. After a year, Aveline's father had decided that his son had obviously died, and never spoke of him again, the grief of his losing his only son driving him further into the clutches of alcoholism.

Aveline herself, however, believed that Andrew was still alive. They had been exceptionally close, especially in the first few years after their mother's death, and had formed a bond. Their sisters were much younger than them, and they had needed to work together to raise them and keep them safe. She was sure she would have felt it if he had passed on to the Nether.

Aveline knew that her brother had a restless soul, one that craved adventures and excitement. The life of a farmer in a backwater country like Duskwood was never going to be enough to satisfy him, and the tender bonds of family never strong enough to hold him back. Looking back, she was just surprised he' stayed in contact as long as he had. It was not death that had taken him from them, it was the call of glory.

Shaking off her negative thoughts, Aveline made her way to the mailbox. They rarely received any mail these days, but occasionally one of her mother's siblings thought to send her a few coins or a toy for her sisters. She skirted her way around a group of adventurers. With their huge weapons and imposing armor, they tended to frighten her more than they reassured her.

Although, when they practically camped out on top of the mailbox with their giant mounts, they kind of annoyed her, too.

Aveline was surprised, and a little excited, to find a brightly wrapped package addressed to her sitting inside the postbox. The paper was sapphire blue, and of high quality, and the box felt quite heavy as she lifted it out. Yet it was the address label that caught her attention.

Brushing a stray strand of black hair out of her eyes, Aveline studied the label carefully. It was in Andrew's handwriting!

But what could her brother possibly to have to say to her after four years of silence?

AN - so first chapter of a brand new story with a brand new heroine!

Next Chapter: what's in the box? A whole lot of trouble, that's what.