Chapter 10 – Deadwind
On the opposite bank to Elwynn Forest heading west, three individuals made their way along the winding, desolate paths of Deadwind Pass. Mist rolled in through the canyon, buffeted by a swift breeze making it rise in grey muddied clouds and curling wisps. Boulders and dead foliage gradually came into view as the mist slowly started to clear. It was a deeply ominous place.
"Do you even know where we're going?" Bernie whispered behind the tall figure in the flapping overcoat.
The sculpted coiffure tilted as Mick turned his head to look at her. His eyes were hard, mouth tight and with that aquiline nose he looked particularly menacing. "Yes," he hissed in response. "Just stay low and keep quiet."
No matter how quietly they tried to move forward, the cold grey stone of Deadwind Pass echoed with the sounds of the three Edinburgh flatmates footsteps. Even the cushioning of the mist and unearthly lowly moan of the wind did not disguise their progress.
"How much further?" Mel asked.
Mick shook his head in annoyance. "I'm not sure. All I know is we stay on this path until it opens to the Swamp of Sorrows. And don't dare say 'are we there yet' every few minutes."
Mel shrugged and quickly glanced at Bernie. Her jaw was set, but he guessed that was more to do with her annoyance at Mick's treatment of Drew. He reckoned she had been silently stewing since they left the area they had portalled into.
Mick had always aired his 'superiority' as he saw it in front of Mel and Bernie, but Mel really thought he was just a stuck up prat the more he got to know him. Nevertheless, they all shared a nice flat, and Mel could put up with an intractable amount of prattish behaviour to remain where he was. Still, since they stepped through that portal, Mick's character took on another edge to it. He was demiurgic, but cold, and calculating. Granted he was also not without a degree of charm. He had after all managed to secure them a ride on a farmer's wagon through Duskwood.
Mick, had waved the farmer down, pretended to be uncertain of the way to Duskwood, and asked for directions. The farmer had kindly offered them a lift as he was heading that way anyway. Mick bowed to the man and thanked him but declined his kind offer explaining they had no money to pay him, having been robbed on the way through Redridge.
Mel had rolled his eyes thinking that would never pass as a convincing story, but he was proven wrong. The farmer nodded, saying he had heard of much thievery in the area, and as such did not look for payment, but was more than happy to help.
Walking through this eerie canyon, with its ghostly sounds, ravens cawing and an unshakeable sense of being watched, Mel couldn't help but wonder if they had all grossly underestimated the 'real' Azeroth to that of the game. This place was daunting enough on a computer, but its reality felt truly unnerving. Furthermore, they had no skills to defend themselves against anything that might attack them.
He looked over at Bernie again, but she was studying something on the ground. He watched as she moved over to their left and knelt down. He stepped over to her. "What is it? What are you doing?"
She was prodding at some loose shards around the base of a boulder, inspecting them at length. She ran her thumb along the sheared edges of a few of them, then selected two. She handed them to Mel. "What are these for?" he asked.
"Protection," she mumbled as she checked some more, choosing another four. "Give me your over-shirt."
"What?"
"Give me your shirt. You're wearing a T-shirt underneath it for goodness sake."
He did as she asked and watched open mouthed as she started to tear it into strips. She gestured for him to give back the shards. Again he did as she wanted and watched as she wound the strips of material round the blunt ends, making a grip. Once she had finished with his two she handed them back and started quickly on the others.
"You've been reading my mind," Mel grinned humourlessly. "Even so, I've never used weapons. Have you?
Bernie turned to look at him as she stood up. Her brow furrowed. "I – I'm not sure. I think I have." She seemed puzzled.
"You think? Bernie, either you have or you haven't. Which is it?"
Bernie just shook her head leaving his question unanswered, then she edged past him and started after Mick. Mel followed closely behind.
"Here," she said, thrusting the stone shards towards him as Mick turned on hearing their approach.
He stared at them. His mouth curved up at one side. "Seriously? You expect me to use these...toys?"
"Have you anything better?" she snapped.
Mick's grin slowly disappeared as he glanced between his two flatmates. Mel stared at him defiantly. Bernie's challenging stance irked him. Taking the offered makeshift weapons, he glared back at Bernie. "And what, pray tell, will we need these for?"
Her eyes moved past his shoulder towards the stone lintel that spanned the path.
"That!" she answered, pointing to the lintel.
There, clinging to the underside of the stone was an enormous arachnid, dark grey in colour with a red diamond-shaped mark on its abdomen. The pattern repeated itself between all five sections of each leg.
Bernie noted Mick's expression wasn't quite so cocky now. She turned to Mel, who also followed to where she pointed. His eyes were wide, fear lurking near the surface. "Oh fuck!" he whispered. "Should have known we'd come up against some of the things from the game."
"Uh huh!" Bernie agreed. "Didn't think we were just going to walk through to wherever you plan to take us, unscathed, did you Mick?"
Turning slowly back to face her, he tried to regain his former confidence. "No, Bernie, I did not. I had thought however, the damage from the Legion attacks might have left the way clear of any..." he glanced over his shoulder at the pulsating spider with its pedipalps tasting the air. "...nasties." Mick concluded.
"Nasties? That looks considerably worse than just 'nasty'!" Bernie hissed. Her eyes darted over to the spider again. The last thing she wanted to do was give the creature an advantage by giving away their presence. "I have never considered you naïve Mick. Until now. So, unless you have a giant can of bug repellent under that coat, I suggest you ready yourself for a fight."
Without another word she crept to the right of the lintel. Two large boulders to the side of it provided a vantage point. Mel followed without thinking. Mick slowly crept backwards, concealing himself within the sparse, brittle foliage of a once succulent fern. The dry rustle and movement of the skeletal feathered leaves made the spider flinch.
All three of the flatmates held their breath as the eight-legged giant lowered itself to the ground on a sticky, fibrous stretch of silk. Its feet clicked and clacked against the stone path.
The hiss emanating from the beast turned Bernie's blood cold. She watched as its front legs toyed with the air and the pedipalps went into into overdrive. It moved forward. Towards Mick.
As its cephalothorax emerged from under the shelter of the lintel, Bernie had a strong sense of déjà vu. It shook her for a second, but then it seemed instinct took over; she jumped down onto the spider's back. Pulling the two shards across in front of her, she separated the front of the arachnid from its rear. The screech from the wounded creature was blood-curdling. Bernie sensed it was also a battle-cry and quickly she scanned the area behind her.
"Mel!" she shouted, looking up. "Finish this one. There's more coming!"
Mel was rooted to the spot, disbelief written on his face of what he had just witnessed his flatmate do. The spider still flexed and flinched even though it had been mortally wounded. It was even more terrifying in the throes of death.
"Mel!" Bernie shouted again. She disappeared from view under the lintel.
He jolted into action and jumped down, careful to avoid getting too close to the spider on landing. He looked across and saw Mick, eyes wide, mouth slack. "You have to help too!" Mel said.
Mick remained where he was and pointed behind Mel. Slowly, he turned dreading what would meet his eyes. Two more of the enormous spiders were scuttling up the path. Bernie was crouched, waiting for them. She showed no fear. It appeared by all accounts that she knew exactly what she was doing. Could this possibly be the same woman he shared a flat with? The hopeless romantic who sobbed over soppy films, books and pictures of fluffy kittens?
"Hurry!" Mick almost screamed. Mel spun round to see Mick still trying to conceal himself in the ferns. Without further hesitation he slammed his two shards into the dying spider which lay in halves. It died with a last, dwindling hiss. He then turned and went to help her, not knowing quite how he was going to overcome the approaching threat, but equally not prepared to leave her to deal with them on her own. As the spiders neared their prey, Mick finally stepped out from behind the ferns, but still keeping a good distance behind his flatmates. Bernie threw a hateful glance at Mick as he stood brandishing his shards. She knew he had no intention of getting close enough to use them.
Just as they thought the situation couldn't get any worse, their path was suddenly and completely blocked. Someone, or something had just vaulted up from the side of the canyon wall and landed with an audible thud accompanied by the vibrating hum of steel on plate.
A cloaked figure was crouched for a few moments. Slowly and deliberately it pushed itself up to an uncanny height. All the flatmates could make out was a full-length cloak with a fur mantle and a glint of plate and steel as the cloak's material billowed in the canyon breeze.
Although completely taken by surprise at the new arrival, Bernie and Mel were suddenly aware the click-clack of spider feet had stopped. Only a lowly hiss from the arachnids could be heard beyond the hulking beast that shadowed them. They looked warily at each other, shards still poised to attack.
"Remain where you are if you wish to live," the creature spoke with a rich basso profundo tone.
Seeing this as an offer of help, Mel exhaled loudly. "Th - thank you," he stammered.
The beast chortled deep in its throat. "I would say you're welcome, but..."
Mick scoffed, although there was a distinct tremor in his voice. "What! You can't handle the scary spiders?"
The creature inclined its head towards him. The flatmates caught sight of enormous smooth bull-like horns, each adorned with a golden ring penetrating each tip. The rings swung loosely from the movement of the massive skull. A Tauren. Thick dark fur rippled on the side of its face as it came into view. Its nose was more of a bovine snout, also pierced with a gold ring. Vapour streamed from the nostrils as the beast grunted, and a low menacing rumble akin to mocking laughter emanated from its black lips. "It is not the spiders you should fear, little human."
Another loud grunt from behind them announced this creature had brought company. All three heads turned.
Orcs. Two very big, very strong, very ugly orcs stood glaring at them.
"Oh fuck!" Mel said under his breath.
Mick almost tripped as he backed away. For all he was quite tall himself, he was of a slender build and as such he was dwarfed completely by the orcs and their tauren companion.
Bernie glanced between the two orcs trying to assess the situation. As they moved forward, readying their axes and cleavers, she deduced they were, for now anyhow, more focused on clearing the way of the giant arachnids than bothering much about the three of them. She tugged Mel's arm and they stepped back as the orcs joined their tauren accomplice. With a roar, the newcomers dove into action.
The tauren quickly and easily despatched the two arachnids using the enormous sword and axe he wielded effortlessly. He kicked the corpses over the edge of the path, and watched as the tumbling carapaces cracked and split on the jagged stone. They soon vanished from view, becoming swallowed up in the remaining mist that roiled in the bottomless canyon. But their screeches had lured more of the beasts and soon Bernie and Mel saw more articulated legs emerge over the lip of the path and from round boulders to their right.
The orcs, in big thunderous strides moved towards the approaching arachnids and swinging their weapons, sliced and pummelled the creatures, forcing them back until they too tumbled over the side of the canyon wall.
Another one dropped from the ridge overhead, landing only feet from Bernie and Mel. The red head moved quickly, once more launching herself up onto the creature's back. This one reared up, its four front legs cutting through the air. She drove the shards into its back. Blood spattered up over her face and she lost her footing. She fell with a dull thud on her back. The spider spun quickly. Hissing, it scuttled towards her. Without thinking, Mel ran forward and attacked the beast from behind, but its defenses kicked in and Mel was suddenly cocooned in a blanket of sticky, glistening silk.
The spider continued towards Bernie. Her eyes darted around the ground near her, frantically searching for the shards. The shadow of the arachnid fell over her. She looked up as the huge fangs closed in on her. This was it! She was spider food! Her eyes squeezed shut.
A forceful whoosh followed by the reverberating sound of steel hitting rock, echoed through the pass. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw the severed body of the arachnid fall over in opposite directions. The tauren stood over her, his sword embedded in a crack on the ground in front of her. He offered her a hirsute hand. Tentatively, she accepted and the bull-like creature pulled her to her feet as easily as if he were picking a flower. "Th – thank you." She breathed.
"You are welcome," he replied. He yanked his sword from the ground.
At ten and a half feet tall, the half man half bull, all muscle and power, was an unquestionably daunting, but equally impressive creature. With enormous cloven feet and the weighty horns composed of dermal bone, covered in a thin epidermal layer, a tauren was not a beast you took on half-heartedly nor without a high degree of skill. The horns alone could impale you easily enough, like sticking a skewer through a piece of chicken.
This tauren however, was also clad in plate armour. His black cloak, as it rippled exposed the edging of his protective chest-piece, pauldrons and vambraces. Between each plate section the sheen of thick dark fur peeked out. A cuisse covered his hardened thighs, leading to the poleyns on his knees. Bizarrely, he also wore sabatons which stopped just above his hooves appearing to offer little protection yet obviously served some purpose.
Wordlessly, he nodded to the orcs, who quickly peeled the silk cocoon from a panic-stricken Mel. They grunted at him, quite what they were trying to communicate was unclear, but both he and Bernie sensed they were simply making sure Mel was alright. He nodded and thanked them as he brushed off some of the silken residue.
Then all eyes turned to Mick. He stood, clearly shaken but making a determined effort to look otherwise. A snort from the tauren had the two orcs move behind the coiffured individual and push him forward. The tauren then looked to Bernie and Mel. "Come," he said. "You may take shelter with us." Without waiting for a response, the huge cloak swirled and the tauren took the lead.
Bernie watched as his cloak billowed out towards the three humans while he strode purposefully ahead. The crossed scabbards over his back housed the enormous truesteel sword with its pleated leather-bound hilt and jewelled pommel. The keenly honed axe slept in the second scabbard, its blade glinting from what little light was afforded through the murky clouds above. As he had already demonstrated, they were extremely lethal weapons.
While unnerved by the sheer size of their captors, Bernie nonetheless wanted to know their plans for them. "Who are you?" she boldly asked.
Mick, while noticeably on edge, still managed to glare at her and utter a warning that it was not her place to ask. Unperturbed by his agitation, she continued to face forward, watching the tauren as his long steady strides continued. The fastenings of his armour and the scabbards creaked as his arms moved back and forth in military fashion.
The giant hirsute beast inclined its head to the side, nostrils flaring. Just the hint of a glistening eye looked in her direction. "I am Waquro Proudwalker of the Ragetotem tribe," he replied, his voice rich and deep.
"And why did you save us?" Bernie persisted.
A low rumble of laughter made the tauren's shoulders quake. "Save you? What makes you think you are saved?"
"We are human," she started. Her statement of the obvious caused the orcs to laugh gruffly. She merely glanced at them before continuing speaking with the tauren. "We are more commonly affiliated with the alliance because of our race. You, belong to the horde. They are opposing factions."
Again the tauren laughed, but the sound was now hollow. "We belong to no-one, except the Earthmother. We fight alongside the horde, but they do not own us." He turned further and glanced to the rear of the group. "I cannot speak for the orcs, however."
Flicking her red hair over her shoulder, she attempted again to assess their situation. "Alright! Still, should you not have killed us with our being on opposite sides?"
Mel gave Bernie's arm a hard push. The look of horror on his face and sharp shake of his head told her he thought she was practically offering them up as an aperatiff and did not agree with her line of questioning.
Bernie grinned at him, mouthing Don't worry, gently rubbing his arm with reassurance.
"You are right human, we should kill you." Waquro turned and raising a hand above his head, he reached for the sword strapped to his back. Both Mel and Mick blanched, but Bernie stood her ground.
The orcs grunted, flexing their over-sized muscles and clasping the keen axes they held even tighter. One of them taunted Mel as he turned to look at them. The musician almost fell as he tripped over some dry grasses forcing their way up through cracks in the stone. Bernie caught him by his elbow, helping him regain his footing. The tauren snorted and lowered his arm.
"What do you plan to do with us then!" Mick asked, throwing an arrogant look in Bernie's direction before turning resentful eyes to the tauren.
Waquro made a sound deep in his throat, like a growl. With one long stride he was directly in front of Mick. The sculpted hair was misted in vapour from the tauren's nostrils as he snorted at the human. Mick flinched and craned his neck to look up at the enormous bull beast, trying to show he was not afraid of him. With his close proximity, the humans could feel the heat emanating from Waquro's fur and plate covered body. It implied threat.
"Know this, human," he said, his voice even deeper than it had been before. "I do not like you. You were the one hiding from the spiders while these two fought," he jerked his huge horned head in Mel and Bernie's direction. "Yet, your tone suggests you consider yourself superior?" He snorted again, making Mick's coiffure damp, causing it to separate and turn limp. The plate armour shuddered as the tauren gave way to low mocking laughter in his chest. "Be not mistaken, I could simply tred on you and wipe you out. As long as you are in my captivity, she..." his huge plated, fur lined arm lifted and he pointed to Bernie, "...is the leader of your group."
Mick sneered and opened his mouth to protest, but Waquro held a warning digit in front of his face. "Do not! She had bigger balls than you, human, and I can separate you from your puny ones in an instant."
All that could be heard was the orcs' laughter and the low moan of the wind through the canyon. The tension surrounding the group was almost tangible.
The tauren waited a moment as if to ensure he would not need to carry out the threat. He grunted, then with an enigmatic look thrown at Bernie, he turned and moved forward again, resuming his steady stride. The three humans received the flat of the orcs' weapons in their backs to push them onwards. The procession continued.
Bernie looked sideways at Mel, gauging how he was handling their situation. He seemed to be holding it together, even though his eyes occasionally darted behind them to check on what the orcs were doing. As a rule, he was easy-going, never one to look for trouble. He had, over the years, happily stepped up offering to help with anything Bernie needed. He had been a true friend to her. He was good at whatever he did, whether it was work related or something for pleasure such as his jamming sessions on his guitar. And socially, Mel was liked by everyone. The same could not be said for Mick.
She let her gaze swim past Waquro's enormous back and on to her other flatmate. He had pulled his collar up tighter round his neck. A habit he had adopted, she noted, when he was irked by something. She could see the flush of anger rising on his cheek from beneath the edge of his collar. His eyes also glistened, raging from the humiliation he had just undergone.
She could not help but wonder what had caused such a change in him. He had always been a confident individual, more than aware of his own capabilities in various aspects of his life. Inclined to be arrogant now and again he was still bearable - normally. Inclining towards the dramatic, he made bold entrances from time to time, usually in good humour. But when he went into his quiet, dark moods, which thankfully, were infrequent, Bernie and Mel knew just to leave him well alone. Sometimes he would rally hours later, occasionally it took days. He could be volatile yes, but she had never known him to be vile, which he was seriously bordering on now.
Focusing back on the tauren, and now aware of what he did not tolerate, she took a deep breath before pursuing her line of questioning. "Waquro of the Runetotem, earlier I implied you were under the horde's rule, for that I apologise."
She could see Mick sneering from the corner of her eye. He could stew all he wanted in her opinion. There were more important things than his bruised ego at stake here.
Waquro merely grunted in response, rolling his shoulders.
She persevered. "Can you tell us where you are taking us, and what you intend to do once we get there?"
After a moment, the tauren answered her over his shoulder. "We go to our camp at the edge of the Pass. We will rest there."
"But, it is merely early afternoon. Why would we rest so early in the day? "
"We have been been tracking since before dawn."
Bernie wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but she asked anyway. "Tracking what?"
Waquro grunted. "You ask many questions, woman."
"I like to plan ahead." Bernie said, trying to sound bold.
At that the tauren bellowed with laughter. The three flatmates stopped at the sound of his mirth. It was so deep it reverberated on the stone ground. Wide eyed, they stood stock still as the huge beast turned and stepped up to meet them.
His laughter ceased as quickly as it had erupted and he glared down at the three humans. "In this environment, planning ahead can be one's folly. Focus instead on the present, for there are many eyes watching you as we speak. Many teeth that can snap and bite. Claws that will rake and slice you open from your core to your throat."
His words had all three trembling. The corners of his bovine mouth curled, a satisfied grin on the hirsute face of a bull. "The only planning that matters in this Pass, is how to survive, here and now."
Mick swallowed. The remnants of his once confident persona having just floated away on the mists that still swirled around the rocky crags. "Then – then may I ask why do you camp at the edge of the Pass? Why do we not continue through the Swamp of Sorrows?"
It was the turn of the orcs to laugh. Their sound was raw, rough and menacing. The biggest one took a step towards them. His eyes narrowed to mere slits, the reddish brown irises looking almost like lasers behind the hooded eyes. Four inch long tusks protruded from behind his globular lips. A long string of saliva swung from the corner of his mouth, dribbling over the course plaited beard as he spoke in the rambunctious orcan tongue. Only a few words were recognisable to the humans. Uruk meaning 'kill', lak-tuk – 'suffering' and of course lok-tar ogar – 'victory or death'. They all looked towards the towering tauren for a full translation.
The basso profundo seemed to make the very pebbles underfoot dance on their stone floor. "Belmar says this place is a potential stone sarcophagus, where if you don't kill you will be killed. But, the Swamp of Sorrows is adequately named, for there you hover between life and death never knowing true suffering until you walk its length. Victory or death was never more true than when you cross the swamp and emerge either as you are, or as something ethereal."
Silence fell as he let the humans digest his words. Waquro then glanced at the orcs, and all three of the giants erupted in laughter once more.
It was unclear if they had just spun a yarn to scare them, or whether they were laughing at the fear in their faces. Either way, the humans were all unsettled and quietly and quickly resumed the trek to the camp of which Waquro spoke of.
The journey to the camp was punctuated with more creature kills. Spiders, vultures and wraiths lay mutilated in the path of the tauren and his orc companions. Even a couple of stray ogres which had left the safety of their brethren in an area of the Pass known as The Vice, fell victim to their melee expertise.
Mick, Bernie and Mel were unceremoniously pushed aside, slammed against rocks as their giant captors rained fatal blows on their attackers. The sickening sounds of flesh being rent, steel kissing off bone, innards hitting the stone were imprinted on the humans' ears and eyes. The thrumming whack of axes being wielded on dry toughened carapaces, causing them to crack and split and the ear piercing screeches of dying vultures and wraiths alike, echoed in the canyon. With death, followed the acrid stench of steaming guts and the coppery taste of blood permeating the air.
Blood spatter, along with a gelatinous substance covered Waquro's breastplate and cuisse, similar residues clung to the orcs' skins and leather armour. Their weapon's were coated in thick, deep red ooze.
The reality of where the flatmates found themselves, finally hit home. This was no game. This was terrifyingly real. They could really die here.
Waquro's camp was a welcome sight for the three friends. Minimalistic it was, but it managed to convey a sense of safety. Nestled in a wide fissure within the rock face, closed in at the far end, it promised shelter from the elements. A collection of animal hides, thick canvases, and tightly bound pelts lay scattered under where the unforgiving stone bridged overhead forming a natural roof. The space offered ample room not only for the humans to take shelter but also their three gigantic captors.
A large circle of stones in the centre bore the remains of last night's fire. Paw prints leading away from it, evidenced that the blackened, charred wood had been rifled through by some bold, hungry scavengers. No doubt they were searching for scraps of meat stuck to animal bones discarded in the fire.
Mick took himself to the back of the fissure, pulling the collar of his overcoat up round his ears and wrapping the rest of it firmly round his body. He remained silent, withdrawing from even simple conversation with his friends. Mel and Bernie shivered, the temperature had dropped quite drastically within the last hour and they, unlike Mick, overlooked bringing a coat. Bernie's thin hoodie offered little warmth against the near morgue-like temperature of their shelter. Mel's skin was covered in goosebumps having sacrificed his overshirt earlier and now left with only a t-shirt.
The orc named Belmar busied himself making a new fire within the stone circle. He threw down some chopped wood, dried out ferns and moss. Pulling a dagger from his belt, he sparked it against a flint and the kindling took hold. As he bent down to blow life to the embers, his eyes locked with Bernie's. His reddish brown orbs held menace.
Mel watched the exchange between the two of them and was surprised to see Bernie defying the muscle-bound orc. Her stare was feisty, determined and without even a hint of apprehension. This was unlike her. Although not incapable of looking after herself, Bernie also had a very vulnerable side. She was not typically a courageous person and often shied away from confrontations. But she had surpassed herself here, in Azeroth. The change in her was good, unlike that of Mick's evolution. But it left Mel wondering, what change if any, would he himself go through.
Belmar's eyes suddenly widened and unexpectedly, he broke contact with Bernie. He stood and moved deeper into the enclosure mumbling something in orcish.
Shunting over on his backside to be closer to her, Mel asked Bernie, "What did you do?" He was curious how she deterred such an enormous hulk from eye duelling.
Bernie shrugged. "Nothing. I just wasn't going to let him intimidate me."
Mel glanced over at Waquro. The tauren has slid down the far wall, seating himself on the cold stone floor. He was cleaning and honing his weapons. "What do you think they plan on doing with us?" he asked Bernie under his breath.
She drew her legs up and resting her chin on her forearms wrapped round her knees she stared into the growing flames. "I don't know, Mel. But intentionally or not, they have protected us, so I am hoping that is..." she tried to think of some appropriate Warcraft dialogue, but could only come up with fairly common fantasy verbiage. "...a good omen, that the spirits favour us." She smirked.
"What?" Mel grinned. "We are in Azeroth for real, scared shitless with three monsters as bodyguards, and still you go into roleplay?"
They glanced at each other, then laughed. After the events of today, it felt good to have such release.
Their mirth was brought to an abrupt end however when Belmar's feet scuffed to a halt beside them. They looked up at him, huddling closer together involuntarily. In one hand he held three animal pelts, the fur of which looked soft, luxurious and warm. In the other he held a large bag tied with a leather thong. He handed them to Bernie with a grunt. Tentatively, she accepted. The orc remained standing, waiting for her, it seemed, to open the bag. Once she and Mel wrapped the furs around themselves, she loosened the leather that held the bag closed. Its corners fell open to reveal food. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until she looked at the contents. Crusty bread, thin cuts of cold meat, cheese, fruit. She looked back up and said thank you.
"Zug-zug,"* Belmar replied, then moved away to take the third hide over to Mick. They watched as he tried to get Mick to move to the fire. But he was not for budging. At least not until Belmar grabbed him by the shoulder of his coat and literally dragged him to where his friends sat already tucking into the food. He was dumped, unceremoniously, beside Mel. A grunt of displeasure from Belmar was all that he issued indicating his obvious intolerance of Mick's behaviour. The orc moved back nearer the entrance where the other one sat already tucking into their food.
Bernie pushed the open bag along in front of Mel so all three of them could reach it easily. Mick snatched some meat and cheese but then turned away from his friends and stared moodily into the fire.
The clank of metal connecting with stone made Mel and Bernie look back towards Waquro. His weapons on the floor, he stood and took down a waterskin that hung from a jagged protrudence in the rock. He approached the group around the fire and offered the waterskin to Bernie.
"Thank you," she said with a small smile.
"Eat your fill then get some sleep. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow." His voice ricocheted off the fissure walls.
"Don't tell me you are planning ahead, Waquro," Bernie said. "I thought that was a bad idea here."
The tauren snorted, vapour streaming from his wide nostrils. With a low rumble of mirth he answered, "You learn quickly human."
She smirked. "May I ask where we are going now?"
The tauren studied her for a few moments and then trained his eyes on Mel. "Frostfire," he replied.
Mel gasped while Mick flinched, but said nothing.
"Draenor?" Bernie's voice had a nervous edge to it.
Waquro looked back at Bernie. "You are familiar with it?"
"Quite," she replied without embellishing it was merely through a computer game.
Waquro continued. "We head for the Dark Portal. There we will meet with one of my tribesmen and he will teleport us to our base in Frostfire." He moved away, returning to the loving care of honing his blades.
Mel nudged Bernie. "We - we are going to time travel too?"
"So it would seem," Bernie breathed. Her heart sank. What chance now? she thought. Not only distance, but now time? Her heart sank. She was being taken even further away from the one thing she wanted to be closer to. Drew.
* Zug-zug - an acknowledgement such as "okay"