Behind them, Hyjal still smokes, and before them a tree rises from the ocean, still growing, but growing fast, unnaturally so, the newly planted Teledrassil. They sit on the beach, a fire crackling and tinting them with orange red. There are three, a Kaldorei maid and two human women.
One woman's hair is a dark red, and she idly plays with a strand as they talk. The shorter one's hair is dyed a dark purple, inspired, perhaps, by the Kaldorei sitting across from them. The humans sit side by side. The elf's skin is a purple pink, and her hair is violet hued. She sits, her legs pulled up to her chest and watches them, resting her head on her arms and her arms on her knees. Her common clearly still needs work, "Going back then?"
"Aye, tha' I am." The woman who spoke smiles grimly. She pulls her glasses down, green eyes peering at the elf over the rims, "Yukale, keep an'eye on Trynn 'ere, can yeh? She'll be hangin' 'round a bit longer, aye?"
Trynn nods.
"Bloody scourge no'down, no'yet," She continues, standing. "Best catch me a ship."
"Tyra, you don't have to go."
"But I do. Yeh understand it? Yeh fought for yeh home, I fight for mine." She continues to watch over the brim of her glasses as Yukale looks away at the ground, "I be no'afraid, nothin' wrong with it though. An'yeh no'ave to fight for mine, lost enough, did enough. World be grateful, for now at least. Give time enough though an' all that petty bickerin' starts anew."
"I'll go," Trynn says. "I can still smell the orcs. I want to get away from that."
The rogue frowns, hugging her legs, mumbling in her own language.
"Wha' was tha' Yuka?"
"Just saying..I'll come find you both."
"Nothin' to be afraid of."
"Scourge," Trynn says.
Tyra shoots a look at her, "Well, aye..."
"Blackrock horde."
"Shu'the bloody 'ell up you ruby'aired tart!"
"You said there was nothing to be afraid of I'm just pointing out-"
"I get it I get it," Yukale interrupts. "But there is something to be afraid of. Don't want to lose you, too."
"Bullpies!" Tyra points at them both, "Already told yeh both, I'm tougher than I look."
"All five feet of you," Trynn retorts.
"Shut it."
"Besides, I'm not the one who died her hair. Mine is natural."
"An'yeh pamper it like it were yeh kid!"
"It deserves the best!"
Yukale bursts out laughing, "I'll miss this."
"Trynn's optimism?"
"Tyra's boasting?"
The two look at each other, then join Yukale in laughing. Ten minutes pass, as each time one would stop laughing they'd share a look with another and start laughing again. Yukale is the last one to stop as they fall into an easy silence, staring at the dwindling fire.
She speaks softly, "Tyra, you said that your grandmother called you 'untamed' once. Do you think that's true?"
"Might be," She replies. "Me da' could never keep me in line and no man hold me down for long."
She slings her pack over her shoulder, running long fingers through her hair. She then adjusted her glasses and looked at both her friends for an extended time, "I'll see yeh both. Tha' a promise."
"Holding you to it," Yukale replies. "I'll hold you both to it."
Grinning, Tyra turns, jogging off. She had a long trip ahead of her, for no ships made regular trips here yet, and she had to go all the way to Theramore. But, it would be fun.
As she disappeared over the horizon, they could make out her singing;
"Untamed 'n darkness 'n Shadow fall
lost t'shinin' light
Answerin' the Siren's call
Wha' once was wrong made right
Under shinin' moon footsteps fall
The sky eternal night
Across great seas the homeland calls
The land is scarred in blight
Shoulders squared and standin' tall
Blue sky as far as sight
Grey gulls cry out their call
For there are wrongs t'make right."