Chapter 2

The first few rays of sunlight broke through the dense canopy of leaves above and created the familiar leopard's print pattern on the red canvas roof of their tent. The little elf stretched luxuriously and reached for her robe. On the other side of the small tent the bear snorted and rolled onto her stomach, limbs splayed in every direction. Aethalia giggled and poked one of the bear's paws with a delicate slippered foot.

It had been three weeks since the 43rd had arrived. An easy routine had been established and the petite priest reverently brushed out her long blonde locks, knowing that just outside Zeb'rinnu was stirring up their campfire. Her mouth watered in anticipation of breakfast and a minute later the sizzle of fried eggs had the normally vain elf abandoning her hairbrush altogether.

"Smells great, Zeb," she smiled, watching the troll flip the eggs expertly with one hand while slicing cured ham steak with the other.

In a minute or two, Isfrael would emerge from the tent he shared with Zeb, likely looking for some misplaced item or another.

"Have either of you seen my tabard? I left it drying just over… Oh! There it is! Thanks guys," the elf snagged the precious bit of green silk from the drying line and ducked back into the tent.

Life in Hellscream's Watch was rather predictable these days. The only unknowns were when the General would finally awake and what her twin was up to. On this particular day, Iyo's tent was wide open and Aethalia could see little Apa hopping around and jumping off different piles of books and blankets. She knew he could fly, but the baby moonkin seemed content with hopping and hooting. The tauren himself was nowhere to be seen, but Iyo often wandered off on his own.

Daintily, Aethalia dabs at her mouth with a linen napkin before passing her plate back to Zeb. The hunter piles bacon onto the plate and passes it back to her. With a smirk, the elf sets the plate down in front of her tent and opens a flap. Moments later, a horned bear is at the door. After a pained bear growl, a grumpy looking tauren emerges from the tent, plate of bacon in hand. Zeb and Aethalia share a quiet smirk.

Right on cue, Isfrael nicks a piece of bacon off Leda's plate (earning him a nasty glare) and salutes mockingly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "More warding, oh great commanding officer?" Leda never replies, likely because he chooses the moment her mouth is full of bacon, but she nods and waves him off. The mage bows theatrically to them all and bounds off to the pile of glowing orbs at the northeast corner of the camp. The headspinningly complex arcane wards had been set weeks ago, but Isfrael was fine tuning them in an attempt to find a reprieve from the local bugs.

In the distance, a horn sounds and in a second, two sentries would stumble by on their way to their own tents.

"Them elves is up to-" the orc interrupted herself with a yawn.

"Up to what, I won-" her companion interrupted himself with his own yawn.

"Stop yawning you'll make me ya-"

Aethalia giggles as the two wandered out of hearing distance across the camp to their own hard earned breakfasts.

"Breakfast was great, Zeb," the elf smiles at him prettily, but he just waves her off. Aethalia smoothes out her robes (today they were a delicate pale pink) and pats her hair before heading off in the direction of her little makeshift chapel. Leda would leave next, only to be assaulted by Goggath the moment she had one hoof outside their campsite. Zeb would be the last to head out, swinging his quiver over his shoulder and gesturing at Aracnotron to follow. The hunter would meet the rest of his hunting or scouting party at the western gate.

Her chapel had obviously once been a shaman's hut. It was cobbled together with a variety of canvas, tanned skins and purple mageweave. The elf wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant smell emanating from it. An attempt had been made to fill in the four perfectly square holes in the ground, but Aethalia still managed to trip over them. Her predecessor appeared to have served the camp well. The only thing the orcs would say about him was that he 'died honourably' which Aethalia translated as 'died in battle facing toward the enemy.' The tent itself was barely large enough to house more than one orc at a time and due to limited resources, the chapel was also used as a hospital. Thankfully, they hadn't had to set up any additional medical centres.

"We be patrollin' da west again. Rulkah an' dem will be huntin' dere so we best be makin' sure none of da elves be botherin' 'em. We be goin' …" Zeb lead a handful of orcs past the chapel, each with their beloved axes strapped to their back.

"…and if we send the 139th who will flank from west?" Leda and Goggath passed by her chapel, Leda rolling her eyes at Goggath and the Captain trailing behind in her wake.

"What about the …"

Aethalia smiles to herself and slips inside the tent, allowing the thin mageweave tent flaps to flutter gracefully in the morning breeze.

The next morning began much the same - Leda's little bear nose wiggled. It twitched and flared.

Bacon!

She bit into her pillow and transformed, her bones breaking and resetting themselves into that of a tauren. Her mouth watered at the sight of the perfectly fried ham steak sitting so innocently just inside the tent. The leather armour was pulled on in record time, followed by the green-teal tabard. Leda grabbed the plate and even as she was lifting the tent flap, had a piece stuffed in her mouth already.

"'Morning Leda!" Aethalia chirps. Leda grunts in response and sits down next to the priest on the log-bench next to the fire. Isfrael steps out of his tent with a panicked look in his eye.

"Find it, mon?"

"Leda have you seen my scrying orb? Its kind of… round and blue-ish?" He conjured a small orb of light between his hands, "About this big?" Leda's mouth happened to be full of bacon (the plate being half empty… or was it half full?) so she pointed at the basket of fruit sitting outside Iyo's tent, which was glowing softly.

"Oh right!" the mage rummages through the basket emerging with the orb and an apple cradled in his arms. "Thanks Leda! Viv would have killed me if I was late for our call." The mage disappears back into the tent and after a minute or two, the soft murmurs of his voice break the morning silence.

The three around the fire are surprised to see Iyo and Apa join them for breakfast. The druid passes on Zeb's fantastic breakfast of 'chicken abortions' (eggs) and 'poor piglets' (bacon) in favour of dry, crunchy sungrass and overripe strawberries. Apa makes a mess of himself and his tummy feathers are stained with bright red strawberry juice.

"'eh Iyo, mon? Ya might wan' ta be givin' Apa a bath," Zeb chuckles, holding up the baby moonkin, who coos adorably, but looks as if he was mauled by a rabid worgen.

"Patrolling or hunting today, Zeb?"

Iyo's sudden change of conversation doesn't phase Zeb and the troll sets the moonkin down. "Patrollin' in da north jus' outside da Furbolg camp."

Apa hops back over to Iyo and grabs another strawberry off Iyo's plate. The tauren strokes his chin thoughtfully, "Close enough I suppose."

"Close enough to what, Iyo?" Aethalia asks.

Iyo gives her a funny look, as if she should already know. "Close enough to the hot spring at the base of the volcano, of course." Setting down his plate, he shifts gracefully and painlessly into a moonkin himself. He and Apa wave goodbye to the camp and then waddle out each adopting the strange crouch-hobble that the native moonkin prefer.

With a hard put upon sigh, Leda stands, "Suppose I should get to work then." Carefully, she looks around her tent and then around behind Zeb's. No sign of Goggath yet… She makes it two steps today before the Captain pops out from behind a brazier.

"General!"

Leda visibly deflates and allows him to fall in behind her.

The command tent had been set up two days after her arrival. It now housed a large round wooden table, cut from a single massive stump near the camp. A large kodo-hide map of the area was stretched across the wood and several chess pieces marked the placement of various units and regiments. Goggath was dismissed as quickly as Leda could manage. She hardly cared what the Captain spent his time doing. Clearly he wasn't much of a strategist or Maestra's Post would be theirs and not constantly changing hands.

A few minutes after Goggath left, a shadow fell over the map in the morning light. "I said you were dismissed, Goggath!" she growled, having very little patience for the stammering orc.

"You'll find I don't resemble Goggath at all, Savagedawn," a voice rumbled. Leda recognized the voice immediately and her headache grew exponentially before she had even looked up from the map.

"That's General Savagedawn, Legionnaire," she met his eyes, the grey were a mirror image of her own stubborn blue. After a minute, Leda broke the awkward tension, "If there's nothing you need then you are dismissed as well." She returned to the map. He ignored her.

"Which piece is the Braves?" Leda pointed at a misshapen rock. She had found it under her bedroll the first night. It had been a pain in her ass all night and it seemed appropriate to assign it to the Braves. "Why have we been placed at Aessina?"

"It's a shrine is it not? The elves will defend it and then we will strike at Maestra's while they are at Aessina," she nearly growled. Who was a Legionnaire to question a General's battle plan?

"They won't defend it and we won't attack it." Leda glared at the other tauren, but he continued, "If we attack there what's to stop the elves from disturbing our sacred places? Besides, there is nothing there except an old Tree who speaks in riddles." Kirge moved the rock nearly a foot over to Stardust Spire. "We need to distract the troops from Astranaar. They are the biggest threat in the entire area and it would force them nearly a day's ride from Maestra's."

It made sense and Leda looked at the map again, her eyes trailing from Maestra's Post to Hellscream's to Astranaar and then finally to Stardust Spire in the south. In the end, her stubborn nature won out and she slammed the rock back at the Shrine of Aessina.

"Get. Out."
-

The trees in Ashenvale were distinctively different than those in Feralas. Iyotanka stroked his chin, deep in thought as he stood in front of a charred ancient oak. Behind him, Apa splashed and chirped in the lukewarm water of what had once been Iris Lake. No, these trees were much different. They had seen war and been caught in the crossfire of the battle with the elements. Even though Lord Magmathar no longer resided at the top of the volcano lava still lazily flowed down the peak.

In Feralas, the trees normally discussed rather mundane things - the newest nest of squirrels in their boughs, the topmost breeze in their branches - boring tree things. Occasionally they'd strike up an odd existential conversation. Iyotanka found it interesting that the trees were ignorant of their purpose in the world. Surely they knew they were alive to purify the air, shade the inhabitants, provide homes for the local fauna? But this line of thought only lead Iyo to new directions; did the Titans or the Old Gods or the Aspects look down on him for not knowing his purpose? Was he himself arrogant to think he knew of the trees only purpose? To believe their purpose was to serve him?

But the trees in Ashenvale cared not for such philosophical mutterings. Their pain was near palpable and it would take everything Iyo had to cleanse even this small charred corner of the forest. But the balance was off and he had to try.

The larger moonkin plopped himself down a couple feet into the charred area, his feet splayed out in front of him. With his feathery palms planted firmly into the blackened earth at his sides Iyo concentrated. The pain was itchy at first, like a new scab, but slowly increased to the sting of a fresh sun burn.

"Prrrrrreet?" Apa chirped and Iyo peeked open one beady blue eye. In front of the little moonkin's talons was a single firebloom. He chuckled at Apa, patting him on the head. In a circle around them, the earth was no longer black and dead, but a healthy reddish peat colour. The single firebloom grew in the middle - the only plant coaxed from the dirt today.

The two moonkin - one larger and horned, one teeny tiny in his shadow - hobbled back toward Hellscream's Watch. The larger moved stiffly, wincing in pain every few steps.

"Any progress?"

Leda didn't need to turn from the map of northern Kalimdor to know that her twin had stepped into the makeshift command tent. She knew it was Iyo before he spoke. Leda sighed and her shoulders slumped. Her face lost the perpetual stubborn glare of leadership to be replaced with a weary, uncertain gaze. She waved vaguely at the large table dotted with painted chess pieces. It creaked as Iyo leant on it for a closer look.

"Multiple fronts," he pointed a stubby finger at the pieces scattered in a vague circle around Maestra's Post. He nodded distractedly to himself, unravelling Leda's simple strategy easily. "Keep the seige engines where they are - too suspicious to move them. Zeb and the patrol are often spotted by the elven guard, it would be easy for them to flank around behind." His finger alighted briefly on the green bishop, topped with gold which represented the 43rd's resident hunter.

"But what of this?" Iyo gestured at the knobbly rock on which Leda had crudely painted the silhouette of a horned totem pole - the symbol of the Braves. "Why are the Braves at the Shrine, Leda?" His brow furrowed. She could hear him condemning her already.

"Its far enough away from the Post to distract the elves at Astranaar and sacred enough to make them hurry."

"Not Aessina, Leda." She turned, facing him for the first time since he entered the tent. His blue eyes, so like her own, begged her. "Aessina, she… No, Leda. Send them anywhere, but don't send them to the Shrine." Those eyes, those pleading eyes, turned back to the map scanning almost frantically for another target. "Here! Look, Leda. Stardust Spire is the opposite direction and its defended by only a handful of elves and a couple gnomes."

Leda frowned. Kirge had suggested the same thing earlier that morning. To assign the Braves to the southern Alliance settlement would be giving in, conceding defeat - it would be dependence and weakness and … Leda sighed. It would be the best course of action.