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~8~8~
Darkness lay like a shroud over the scarred forest of Silver pine, fog drifted knee high along the damp dead grass. Bears stalked the night, as spiders spun trap webs for the unaware. Wolves bayed in the distance proclaiming a victorious kill or singing their mournful tune to the hidden moon. From a pine needle covered hole, a human girl, named Wren, curled up tighter at the ominous night sounds. It was the wolves that scared her the most, the overwhelming smell of pine would do little to mask her filthy scent from them.
She chewed a bitter herb ravenously the only meager food she had foraged that day. This place wrought with terror and despair, was very different from her old home in Southshore where even at her direst there was a place to come back to and wood in the hearth for warmth, a safe haven if she had even known one. Just thinking of the burned out, raided, and ravaged town brought stinging tears to her eyes. It was only by lights mercy she had been out on one of her little 'wanderings' when the Horde had attacked. Her uncle, although a deplorable citizen to society, had been the only family she had ever known and now even he had been taken away from her either captured or killed. Her only option then had been to flee, and search for another Alliance town where maybe it would be safe, perhaps she could find a way to the legendary city of Stormwind where it was rumored they could make a hero out of anyone.
When she saw the gates of Hillsbrad from afar, however, she kept moving unbeknownst to her deeper into Horde territory. Now she was…light knew where, the only thing she knew for certain was that she was heading south. By her reckoning she'd have to hit an Alliance territory sometime.
"That is if nothing kills you first." She grumbled quietly swiping a loose strand of golden hair away from her dirt smeared face.
But so far, she admitted, she was doing alright for herself, she wasn't dead, that had to be worth something. Her insatiable wanderlust had taught her how to survive in the wilds. She smiled thinking of the better days when sometimes it would be a week before she decided to head home, just seeing how long she could last. Not that her uncle cared about her wandering, he only cared about her when she could get him out of a jam. There were many times she had had to do… 'Things' for her uncles debtors so they would loose their house or be killed or perhaps even eat in the winter. Yep, if there was one thing Wren knew how to do it was survive by any means necessary.
Another wolf howled this time farther away, but it still made Wren cringe, this hole she had clawed out at the base of a hill was miserable, but her only protection and she couldn't risk a fire this night, too many eyes might be watching. Loneliness held her in its tight somber grip, with out even the dim cheer a fire brought she felt despondent. From beneath the wispy gray black clouds and through the tangled diseased trees, the moon peeked out shining into Wren's face. Tears sprung to her eyes again thinking of her moonlit walks on the shores of Hillsbrad where she'd watch Naga slither around from afar and wonder what it might be like to do battle with such mighty creatures.
Ever so softly, almost non audible she began to sing. The notes came out clear and sweet like those of a seasoned bard, barely above a whisper. She sang of the Alliance and their heroic battles, songs of travel, and the songs the fly by adventurers brought to Southshore. It was a gift she'd used for extra coin around the tavern, and had more than once kept her and her uncle from starving. When she sang her heart felt a little better as if she could go on for one more day, the world did not look so cold and uncaring. So preoccupied with her singing she didn't realize someone was close by. A forsaken scout hurried through the forest like a wisp of wind, feet barely making a crunch against the dead grass and leaves. Although haggard and ramshackle looking, the undead were masters of silence and stealth both of which were highly sought after in the Banshee queens army.
It was a short time later, when the scout found his was back to his commander, he saluted, his voice all but a whisper. "Captain Muller, a girl has hidden herself along the next three knolls from here. I got close enough to hear her singing something awful pretty." He grinned lopsidedly. "Perhaps the dark lady would find her amusing for a time."
Captain Muller was ugly, even by undead standards, in life he had been a hardened man of war, and in death it was no different. Scars of weapons crisscrossed his snow white bone etched with dirt and one eye was missing looking like a candle that had blown out. The usual somber captain nodded as he received the information, showing no hint of what he was thinking in his tactical forsaken head. Lighting his pipe, one of his last remnants of humanity, the brief flash of fire illuminated his face in weird patterns while his mind was roving over options. His forces were bored, having only scouting duty to look forward to was dull work but this new fact added a little enjoyment to the night. "Alright my warriors, we're going to have a little fun. I want all of you spread out in a ten feet radius. Anyone who sets off her suspicion gets a two month pay dock. I'll explain as we go alone. Now, move out."
The death stalkers nodded and moved silently into the night, like the wolves, surrounding their prey.
Wren closed her eyes settling down to sleep, her soul finally soothed by the songs she'd sang. Clutching a well worn rusted dagger just in case danger was near she felt herself being drawn into the realm of sleep. A branch snapped stopping her heart. Her eyes popped open, as she held in a wavering breath. Perhaps a deer or stag? Another sounded in succession, defiantly not an animal. Holding completely still the rustling grew louder; she clutched her dagger tighter until her knuckles became whiter than the moonlight.
Captain Muller sauntered over the lay of the base of the hill. As far as he could see, no one was here; there was nothing disturbed, and nothing out of place. Perhaps all his soldier had heard was a whippoorwill. As he was heading back to his men, feeling rather disappointed, completely by accident he feel into Wren's hiding spot. Wren came bounding out of the hole, pushing the carcass of mostly bone and putrid flesh away with adrenaline strength as she ran for her life. Ducking, dodging, twisting, turning, she did not even look back to see who or what had fallen into her hole. The only thing burning in her mind was survival, run, the word thudded to the beat of her heart. Behind her she could here, someone yelling in a language she didn't understand. All around her wild yells filled the night; yellow eyes appeared everywhere, bony hands reached out to brush her, like leafless branches, guiding her into a trap. She made a crucial mistake of looking back once seeing how many pursued her, and how far away they were. When she turned forward again she ran into the awaiting maw of a weighted net.
Forsaken soldiers surrounded her immediately swords all pointing to her. Muller came striding up, his yellow eye dancing with the excitement of the hunt. He carried her meager pack kneeling down to her, his crooked smile dangerous and frightening. Wren couldn't tell what he said but the tone sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Muller gave an order and two stripped poles were brought forth, and were attached to either side of the net. Soldiers then lifted Wren off the ground with ease, heading to the camp where the lady Sylvanas dwelled.
~8~8~
At the forsaken first base, the Dark Lady sat in her private tent a small glass of brandy in one hand and a report from the front in the other. Sylvanas sighed taking another sip, of the fiery liquid, this was the 8th time she had read over the old news, for lack of anything better to do. This was the whole trouble with siege warfare as far as she was concerned. The waiting was eternity and the ironic thing about it was she had just that. A horn blared ringing through the command center, telling another company, more than likely Captains Muller's was back from scouting, with probably no new news. Disdainfully she threw the report upon her desk, waiting for the scout captain to enter and bring her his findings, and yet no one came.
From inside her tent she could hear loud mumbling and footsteps, all headed in one direction, an oddity, something had caught her people's attention. Finishing off her glass, and instinctively reaching for her bow, she got up to see the commotion.
Her troops, those not on duties of course, surrounded the returning scouting party in a wide circle, some jumped to see what they had brought while other pushed their way through the crowd.
Sylvanas perched an eyebrow standing in the back of the crowd. "What have you got there, Muller?"
Upon hearing her voice, the crowd parted leaving a path to the scout captain open. He moved aside revealing the girl, her eyes wide in fear. Sylvanas strolled up to the net, she looked at the girl. Her hair mussed about with moss strands caught in the amber honey locks. Dirt and blood mixed on her body, the gauntness in her eyes spoke of hunger, she could be no older than 17, 18 at the most. The dark lady turned her head to Muller. "Where'd you find this pitiful thing?"
He bowed to her respectfully his bones scraping together at the gesture. "A few miles west of the lake, milady." Muller knelt down cutting the net with Wren's own dagger. He jerked on her hair dragging her into a kneeling position in front of Sylvanas. "I thought she could be of some sort of entertainment, my queen."
"Really." She sighed a hint of annoyance in her chilly monotone voice. "Do your men ever grow tired of seeing how many ways they can mutilate someone. The sight has become quite a bore."
Muller shook his head. "I wasn't planning on killing her first off. One of my men heard her singing 'Awful pretty' as he put it."
Sylvanas looked intrigued, who could possible want to sing in this detestable forest. "Perhaps, let's see what she's got."
Sylvanas knelt down to the girl, lifting her chin in a cold hand, her red eyes staring into green. She spoke common. "My commander tells me you can sing. So sing me a pretty tune before I throw you to my men, perhaps if it's good enough I'll make your end swift as a reward."
Survival kicked into Wren's mind, she hated the woman in front of her, she had destroyed everything she'd known, those rare happy times demolished before her ravenous undead. But that wasn't the point right now; her only thoughts were for staying alive. She remained kneeling, her mind roving over the songs that might appease her captor. It was now her only chance to keep breathing. Taking a wavering breath, she sang the lament of the high borne, one of her favorites. The notes came out like silk; they drifted on the chilling air and floated through the misty breeze, every note, every inflection every syllable uttered was perfect. By the time she had finished no one spoke no one moved. All eyes were on her and Sylvanas, eager for a reaction from their leader.
Sylvanas stared at Wren her face neutral. "Where did you learn that song?" Her voice tight giving away a slight hint emotion shocking anyone who knew the dark lady.
"An adventurer taught me when I lived in Southshore, mistress." Wren tactfully avoided it was a night elf who had taught it to her fearful her captor might frown on that little fact.
"You sang it beautifully." Sylvanas admitted.
"Thank you, mistress." Wren beamed inwardly, she didn't know why but a complement from the leader of the forsaken was flattering in its own twisted way.
Sylvanas smiled slightly cocking her head to the side just an inch. "What's your name, human?"
"Wren, mistress." She replied humbly, her heart racing. The dark lady had not immediately thrown her to the soldiers, there was hope!
"A fitting name." Sylvanas nodded.
Silence, Wren knew this was the moment of truth. Muller grabbed her hair roughly causing her to cry out as she was brought to her feet. "Should I throw her to the men now, that pretty little voice will ring high above screams of the others."
The dark lady stared at her for a moment her face caught in a chill pondering expression. Wren didn't breathe, her heart back flipping crazily in her chest.
Sylvanas shook her head. "No, this one amuses me; anyone who touches her will be dealt with severely. Release her, please, Muller."
Muller instantly let the girl go; she was shaking badly from the last few experience and looking at Sylvanas gratefully. The dark ladies voice had something of a wisp of kindness in it, nearly undetectable. "Follow me, my little Wren."
Wren nodded, glancing at the grimly staring soldiers. She kept a close proximity to the dark lady. They arrived at Sylvanas' tent. The banshee queen took her customary seat, pouring herself another drink. Wren stood up; head down, hands clasped in front of her the smell of wormwood and formaldehyde permeating her nose.
Sylvanas took a sip of the strong alcohol, sighing, and sizing her up. "So now that I've spared you, what should I do with you?"
Wren shrugged forcing herself to remain silent. If the banshee queen was expecting a plea for her life, Sylvanas would more than likely throw her to the soldiers.
"Speak, my little Wren." Her voice amused swirling the light brown mixture in her glass. "I would like to know your thoughts."
"My life is yours to do with as you please, mistress." The human dodged uncomfortably.
Sylvanas snorted rolling her sanguine eyes. "I know that, girl. The question is what to do with it?"
Before Wren could accumulate a response, the banshee queen waved her hand impatiently. "Bah, we will think of these things later. You're safe for now so you can relax. In the mean time, keep singing your pretty little songs and you just might live to see another week."
Wren nodded obediently, letting her shoulders slump slightly. A week was something; perhaps she could find a way to escape her undead captors. "As you say, mistress."
For now she was in relative safety that was the best she could hope. Sylvanas walked to the tent flap, talking lowly to a guard in gutter speak. Wren watched as the guard nodded then stalked off. The banshee offered her a seat, only then did the human know how tired she was. Wren slid into the skull motif chair weakly clutching the pine-oak desk. They sat in silence, the dark lady scanning her intently, till a tantalizing smell entered the human's nostrils. The guard strode in a shield serving as a platter on top a bowl of stew and a large hunk of bread. He sat it in front of the girl bowed to Sylvanas then exited the tent. To Wren's credit her mouth didn't began to drool although she looked at the food. Her stomach growled, sending pains shooting through her belly.
"Eat, Wren." Sylvanas bade with half a smirk.
She needed no second bidding. Stuffing her mouth with stew dipped bread and large meat chunks she deemed to be bear meat. Sylvanas questioned her as she ate. "Was Southshore your original home?"
Wren slowed eating, she seemed sad, chewing over the answer. "It was the only home I had ever known, mistress. I lived there with my uncle, my parents died when I was very young."
Sylvanas nodded. "I see. What were you doing in Silver Pine?"
"I had never been out of Hillsbrad. I was searching for any Alliance strongholds still standing."
Wren swallowed hard, she had slipped the moments the words had left her mouth. The look on Sylvanas' face was sheer fury her voice barely contained. "The last claw of the Alliance is Gilneas, you missed it entirely. Southern Lorderan belongs to me." With out warning she reached over the table clutching Wren's neck lifting her easily as a sack of potatoes spilling the brandy across the table, toppling books and vials. "As do you."
Wren nodded vigorously, struggling to breath, her voice croaked. "I understand, mistress."
Keeping her up in the air a moment longer, Sylvanas dropped he suddenly her face back to a neutral coolness. "You appear to have an instinctive knack for survival, Wren. I admire that in any creature. I'll forgive that little slip of the tongue but watch what you say."
"Thank you, mistress." Wren whispered rubbing her neck her mine whirling. She eyed the spill glass, warily before turning back to Sylvanas.
Sylvanas arched her eyebrow, resting back in her chair, she saw what Wren was doing, and inwardly applauded her for it. "Want to make yourself useful so that I can keep you around." She nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Alright, my little Wren, I will see if you are worth the keeping."