Ch. 1: Death and Discovery

Disclaimer: I own nothing in WOW except my own characters. Everything and everyone else belongs to Blizzard.

Alyson gritted her teeth as her rag-wrapped feet came into contact with a sharp stone. The rocky roads of Durtor were far different from the meadows surrounding Lodamere Lake back in Alterac. Still, the homeland of the orcs was hopefully the last place Lord Kelton would look for her.

Alyson glanced down at the bundle of blankets in her arms. Her four-month-old baby boy was sleeping peacefully, totally unaware of the danger they were both in. Already, soft black hair was sprouting over the baby's scalp. Hair he had inherited from his father.

Alyson still found it ironic that for some one who preached strong family values, Lord Kelton still enjoyed to have dirty little secrets and was yet unwilling to take responsibility for them.

Ahead of her, the great city of Orgrimmar loomed. Alyson hoped to make it there before nightfall. Despite the tales of the Second War, the Warchief Thrall was supposed to be extremely generous when it came to hose in need. Surely the orc could find it in his heart to aid a single mother and her child until she could find somewhere far away from Lord Kelton's reach.

"Going somewhere?" Alyson gasped as three figures stepped out from the shadows They were humans, but their stealthy movement was more fitting to ghosts than living creatures. Alyson knew at once that these rogues had to be members of the Syndicate. Which meant…

"Please. Can't you see that I'm not a threat to Lord Kelton now?"

"Oh, be that as it may, we've already accepted payment, so…"

Alyson screamed as a dagger was thrust into and then yanked from her back. She fell forward, cushioning her baby who began to cry from fear.

"Please…. Take him," Alyson rasped. The dagger had been coated with poison and it was doing its work well.

"Sorry. Not part of the deal. Don't worry; you'll be dead long before the animals come running; you won't have to watch the kid die." The rogues quickly fled the scene, leaving behind a slain mother and a crying baby in their wake.

* * *

"I can see Orgrimmar! We're almost home!" Thrall straightened up a bit more as Night Stalker, his black wolf mount put on an extra burst of speed, eager as his master to be home. Two other scouts ran alongside the Warchief and Thrall's white wolf companion Snowsong easily matched Night Stalker's fast pace.

"Will the draenei soon be our allies, Sire?" Goren, a young scout asked.

"I don't know. However, it's time we took the first steps toward healing old wounds," Thrall replied. "While we can't change what our fathers did, we can promise not to allow ourselves to be swayed with promises of power again."

"Aye. An' Velen would probably say the same, Lord," Etrigg grunted from Thrall's right.

"Let's hope for the best. We can-" Thrall's words were cut off as his senses became alert to a change. He halted Night Stalker and his companions did the same with their mounts. Snowsong growled, her ears tilted forward.

"What is it, Lord?" Goren looked alarmed, but ready for battle. Thrall closed his eyes and concentrated.

Spirits of Durotar, what troubles you? Thrall's blue eyes widened as the answer came to him.

"Murder has been done nearby! Hurry!"

The three orcs sped off in the direction of the wind, which seemed to be leading them. And although all three had seen their share of death, what they found shocked each orc to the core.

The body of a young, brown-haired woman was lying face-first in the red dusty road. Her blue eyes were wide and staring, her arms cradling a small, crying bundle. Her back was a large patch of blood. Etrigg bent down and sniffed the wound.

"Poison. It's rogues' work," the old orc grunted. Meanwhile, Snowsong was sniffing the bundle, which was now wriggling in the dead woman's arms.

Time seemed to slow for Thrall as he approached the body and examined the bundled infant. Gently scooping the baby up, Thrall took in the tiny frame, the soft fuzz of black hair, and the blue eyes that widened as tears continued to flow.

"Come now. It's okay, little one. You will not be harmed," Thrall murmured to the baby. To the orc's surprise, the babe stopped crying and looked up at him, still sniffling a bit. Beside him, Goren gulped.

"Sire, I've seen battle and all, but…this woman… she was... a mother. It just seems…"

"I know, Goren," Thrall said, placing a mailed hand on the young scout's shoulder. "And you are not wrong to feel this way. To kill a helpless woman in such a manner…" Thrall shook his head and sighed. Then, cradling the baby in the crook of one arm, he called out with his mind.

Spirit of the Earth. Will you help me? Immediately, the Earth seemed to open up around the young woman, swallowing her body. At the same time, a rock pushed its way up to the surface where the woman's head had been.

Spirit of Fire, will you aid me? A flame leapt into Thrall's hand and he let it roam over the rock, etching the words as it did in both Orchish and Common dialect.

An Unknown Woman Lies Here, Cruelly Slain by Unknown Assailents

May Her Soul Find Peace, Knowing Her Son as Saved

Still carrying the baby, Thrall mounted Nightstalker.

"Come, we need to get back to Orgrimmar."

"What about him, Lord?" Etrigg gestured at the now-sleeping baby boy.

"Right now, he'll need nourishment, which we can give him one way or another. We'll go from there." The small party set off again, leaving the grave of a slain mother behind and carrying a new life and a new hope with them.