Author's Notes: Shit's about to get real, ya'll. 10 points to Gryffindor if you know which book series I took the title of this chapter from (no, not Harry Potter).

The next morning dawned bright and humid in the small oasis. Zarabethe breathed in the thick air and before she even opened her eyes, felt something was different. She sat up, searching the sheltered green she was hidden in, and saw nothing out of place. Arion was snipping grass on the other side of the pool, Spook was laying beside her, and all her things appeared to be in order. She pushed herself to standing, disentangling her cloak from her legs. She grunted as she nearly lost her balance and grabbed at Spook, the other hand on her belly. She frowned as she took another deep breath. She could breathe a lot easier today than last night. She hadn't expected any of her symptoms to get better until after the baby was born. She stepped to the edge of the pool, feeling completely off-balance. It took her a few minutes of looking at her reflection to realize that her belly looked lower than usual. She turned to the side and studied her wavering reflection in the water. She had heard of that before, the baby dropping right before a pregnant woman went into labor. She'd better hurry.

Breathing might be easier, but everything else was harder. Within a few minutes of starting off down the road on Arion, her hips were aching. She gritted her teeth and slowed Arion down a bit. Even though he cantered along at a casual pace, it still hurt just as much. She urged him faster, trying to ignore it. Speed was the winner in this race, not comfort.

At noon she took a break, stumbling off the horse and limping into the shade to rest. By her estimation, she'd made it halfway until the drop off point outside of Mor'shan Ramparts. She tried to use that information to buoy her spirits as she leaned against a tree, pressing her back into it as hard as she could. She wanted to lay down and nap more than anything else, but she knew from yesterday that if she did, there was no guarantee that she would wake up when she wanted to. She shifted the satchel off her neck for a moment. It was bleeding again, oozing red slowly into the collar of her shirt. As soon as she acknowledged its presence, it hummed in her ears, making her wince. An ache settled into the front of her mind, and she could barely form a complete thought. She took a sip of water, and limped back to Arion. She had to keep moving, or she would fall asleep right where she was standing.

As she pushed north, she felt her mind wander. She kept returning again and again to the Scepter and the quest, and every time she did, her pace slowed until she realized she was stopping, and she had to urge the horse on again. At one point, she even turned Arion around and started back the other way before she caught herself. Zarabethe chewed the inside of her cheek as she tried to keep herself on track to the Horde-Alliance border. If she focused on her body, to keep the hum of the Scepter at bay, the pain flaring in her hips and back was almost unbearable. If she focused on the Scepter to keep her mind off of the pain, it tried to turn her back south, to go turn in the next piece to Narain. She found herself alternating between the two, digging her fingernails into her palm to remind herself to keep going north, tapping, humming tunelessly, anything she could think of just to keep herself going. Spook loped along beside her, and she could barely see her weave in and out of the tall grasses of the Barrens.

By some miracle she avoided any other confrontation. She spied the neutral stable point as the day burned out into dusk. A brisk wind blew up as she dismounted well outside the fence. She pulled the hood of her cloak up, and paused to rub some feeling back into her legs. She was still in enemy territory: she didn't want to walk in limping and an easy target. She held her cloak closed as she led Arion in through the gate. There were no other customers there, and it was a simple matter to turn him over to the goblin handler. She paused a moment to rub his nose and whisper her thanks to him. He was a good horse, and she was reluctant to see him go.

Outside of the check in point she made a sharp turn northwest. She didn't want to go in through the main gates and be subjected to a search and interrogation at least, and imprisonment at worst. She headed straight into the trees that obscured the natural border between the enemy lands. There the trees of Nightsong Forest spilled over the top of the craggy mountains, softening them and forming several natural passes. They were usually unguarded, and it was to the closest of these that she headed now. It was not a hard climb, but she kept a steadying hand on Spook as they scaled the rocky terrain. Slipping and falling now might not be the worst thing to happen, but it was not something she wanted to risk.

On shaking, exhausted legs she finally crossed into Ashenvale. As before, within moments of stepping over the border, she felt some of her panic slip away. Even the obtrusive hum of the satchel quieted down. She was so relieved to be engulfed by the chilly forest air, it took a lot of effort to keep going instead of dropping to sleep right there. She traversed another hour in, until the dark was complete around her, before finding a wide tree trunk to spend the night in. She lashed herself to the branch, drew her cloak down over her face, and was asleep in moments.

She awoke the next morning to cramping leg muscles and a pounding head. She wearily rubbed a hand across her eyes. Had she bothered to eat at all the day before? Before she even untied herself from the tree she made herself sip water and eat a hunk of bread. Spook nuzzled her face before hopping out of the tree. She clumsily made her way down to the forest floor, and stretched her aching muscles before turning her feet north. She rubbed at her neck absently as they walked. The hum of the satchel might not be as loud today, but what it lacked in volume it made up in weight. It felt like it was trying to drag her down to the forest floor as she navigated her way up to Silverwing Outpost.

Winter in Ashenvale forest was a quiet time. The weather was mostly temperate, although one would wake with frost on one's boots during the thick of it. A lot of the warmer weather creatures were hibernating or traveling at this time of year, and the most common sight was ghost wolves or the ever-present squirrels. Zarabethe kept her cloak wrapped around herself tightly as she traveled, trying to stay hidden from most wildlife. She was grateful for Spook's keen eyes and keener ears, because both her nerves and her senses were shot. She trudged on as quickly as she could force herself to go, keeping to hidden animal trails and staying just off the main pass. Her back ached intermittently and she tried to push it out of her mind as she kept going. She kept one hand on the satchel, pulling at it and trying to ease some of the pressure off of her shoulder.

By mid morning her back was hurting enough she went even further off the path into a clearing and stopped for a break. She collapsed on the ground, too tired to even be frustrated at her lack of progress. She had at least another hour's hike before she made it to Silverwing at normal speed. She pulled her water skin out of her pack and stared at it dully. Sitting had not eased the pain in her back or hips, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree. She would give everything she owned for a portal to her destination. Spook made a noise and bumped her head against her arm. She opened her eyes, and the cat bumped arm again, reminding her that she still held her flask. She smiled weakly and took a drink before scrubbing her behind her ears.

"What would I do without you, Spook?"

The cat tried to lay her head down in Zarabethe's lap before realizing there wasn't enough room, and settled for her legs. The hunter buried her free hand in her fur as she drank her water. She debated with herself whether she could afford the time to nap. Her back cramped up again, and she sat up straighter and rubbed it with one hand. If it would make her back stop hurting for even a brief period of time, it would be worth it. She pulled her pack off and Spook raised her head to watch as she struggled to get comfortable on the hard ground. She ended up curled up against the cat's warm fur. She tapped Spook on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Make sure I get up this time. One hour."

It was just over an hour later that she woke, but it wasn't Spook that did it. She rose to consciousness remembering the ghost of a pain that tightened like a band around her lower belly and felt like someone digging their fingers into the muscle. She blinked her eyes open and stared uncomprehending at the winter grass growing in clusters in her vision. She laid there for a moment, trying to get her bearings, when she felt it again: what was distinctively a contraction wrapping itself around her belly and holding her tight like a vice. She gasped a breath in surprise and dug her fingers into her palm. With the baby sitting lower than before, it was that much more painful, and she knew she had no more time to rest. As soon as the contraction let her go, she was on her feet, shouldering her pack, and pushing north into the forest as fast as she could. The contractions were irregular at first, sometimes strong, sometimes able to be ignored, but by the time she made to Silverwing Outpost, they were coming like clockwork, and she sucked her breath in at each one. She knocked at the wooden gates of the military post and waited, leaning against the fence and breathing hard. Within a few minutes she heard a series of locks and bars being manipulated, and she was face to face with a pair of Sentinels. Like the rest of the forest, wintertime was slow for skirmishes, and these two looked more curious than suspicious of someone knocking at their gate. Zarabethe pulled the hood of her cloak back to show she was friendly.

"Sorry to bother you, I need help finding something." She braced one hand against the fence post as she spoke, trying to not wince as she felt her belly tighten up again.

The Sentinel with a single bright blue braid gave her a disdainful look. "We're not a map service. This is a military outpost."

The other Sentinel elbowed her in the side. "Ignore her, she's just mad because she was winning the game of cards we were playing." She leaned against her polearm as she regarded the hunter and her pet. "What can we help you with?"

"I'm looking for a compound ran by Raene Wolfrunner. I just know it's in Ashenvale somewhere, I need to know which direction to head." A contraction caught her by surprise, and she gritted her teeth as she pressed her free hand to her back. The second Sentinel, who had cropped hair the color of cornflowers, furrowed her brow in concern.

"Are you injured?" She gestured back at the interior of the outpost. "We have a healer on duty right now."

Zarabethe shook her head. "No, I just need to find that compound." With reluctance, she loosened her cloak and let it fall back over her shoulders. There was no way she could hide her belly: it strained against the threads of her shirt. She hated to play this card, but she needed answers fast. The short-haired Sentinel started.

"Oh, you mean the birth compound?" She shared a helpless glance with the other Sentinel, who shrugged. "I'm sorry, we don't know exactly where it is, but Raene lives in Astranaar, you might try there first."

Zarabethe grimaced. It was at least three hours until Astranaar. "Thank you anyway." She peeled her fingers off of the fence and turned to go.

"Wait." The Sentinel with the long blue braid held out her hand to stop her. She had a contrite look on her face. "All of our hippogryphs are out right now, but let me get you a cat. You don't need to walk that far."

Zarabethe nodded at her and leaned back against the fence. The Sentinel disappeared behind the gate and she closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to relax. The other Sentinel watched her out of the corner of her eye.

"Are you sure you don't want to just come in and stick it out here? Healer Farsong is a good man, you'd be safe here."

Zarabethe answered through gritted teeth. "I'd rather try and make it to the compound. I studied under Raene, I know her."

The Sentinel didn't look very happy, but she didn't push. "Alright then."

She glanced up as her partner led a black striped sabre around the edge of the fence. It took a few tries, but Zarabethe got settled on the mount. She wound the reins around her right hand and gripped the saddle with her left. She thanked the two Sentinels and nudged the cat forward to the path. They called out good luck to her as the cat took off at a loping run through the forest. Zarabethe cried out the first time the cat's paws came down hard onto the ground and sprang back off, but she clamped her teeth down against her lip and tried to keep quiet as they made their way to Astranaar.

Almost two hours later, on the road right outside Astranaar, she was done. She yanked on the reins of the cat, pulling it over to the side of the road, and rolled off as soon as it stopped. She stumbled a few steps further into the underbrush and fell to her hands and knees, retching into the bushes. She cried as she felt another contraction squeeze her hips until it felt like they might burst apart. When it ended she tried to find a comfortable way to sit back against a tree. She closed her eyes and prayed that it would be over soon. She felt Spook bump her head against her shoulder.

"I can't," she panted. She opened her eyes into Spook's unreadable ones. She shook her head. "I can't go on anymore. It can't be much longer, can it?"

Spook bumped her shoulder again and turned her head down the path. The town of Astranaar was just over the next hill, but it might as well be the next continent. She shook her head again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I can't ride anymore, it hurts too much." She moaned as she felt another contraction start and dug her hands into the dirt. Was this much pain normal? Was she dying? She found she didn't care which it was, as long as it ended soon. Spook stood in front of her, waiting patiently, and as soon as the night elf unclenched her hands, she gingerly grabbed the edge of her cloak and started backing up. Zarabethe felt it tugging and realized Spook was trying to get her to continue going into town. She shook her head no again, and Spook pulled harder. She heard a rumbling, scolding noise coming from the sabre.

Was she growling at her? She felt a flare of anger inside of her, and tried to grab her cloak out of the cat's grasp.

"Would you just back off? I can make my own decisions, you stupid, bossy cat!" Spook just growled louder and gave the cloak a good yank, upsetting her balance. Zarabethe's anger seemed to knit the frayed edges of herself back together, and she pulled herself back to standing, gritting her teeth. Somehow, standing was less painful than sitting. Spook yanked again, and she stumbled several steps before pulling back at her cloak.

"Let go, you overgrown nursemaid." With a final yank, she rescued her cloak from the sabre. Spook looked at her and again looked down the road toward Astranaar. Zarabethe scowled at her.

"Fine."

She threw her cloak behind her and started down the road on foot. Whether it was the anger, or just getting off of that cat, she found her contractions bearable again and made it into town without too much trouble. It was reaching later afternoon, and there appeared to be some kind of gathering scheduled for that evening. People were everywhere: up in ladders hanging decorations, sweeping off front walks with straw brooms, and the scent of baking was in the air. The crowd made her nervous, and she pulled her cloak around herself as she slowly navigated the town. It took until she saw a trio of children winding ribbons laced through coins into the branches of decorative bushes that she realized what was going on. Everyone was out decorating for Lunar Festival.

She pulled up short outside a merchant's shop and watched for a moment as he hung lanterns on a string above his doorway. She felt a dull ache inside of her: the sight of the lanterns was home and family and all she had forsaken this year, rolled into one twist in the center of her gut. It leeched some of her determination away and she had to grip a wooden post to avoid making a noise when her belly tightened up again. In its wake, she focused on one brightly lit purple lantern and thought about everything it represented. She had always seen herself as an outsider, but to the entire planet, not her own people. During the Kal'dorei new year, even she felt welcome among her kin. Her heart ached as she watched the fire flicker on the wick inside the lantern. She scratched at her neck where the satchel rubbed her skin, and in response she felt the thrum of its magic seep into her brain.

For the first time in months, she realized how alien and invasive it was: it unnerved her how it had turned into such a mundane sensation, and with shaking hands, she pulled the satchel off. Not having anywhere else to put it, she dropped it on the ground in front of her.

As soon as she broke contact with it, it felt like a fog lifted from her mind. She could focus. She knew what to do and the way before her was clear. She held onto the wooden post, steadying herself as she glanced about the town. Raene was usually either in the animal hospital, or at her house, and she could remember with clarity where each one was. She hadn't even been moving in the right direction. She narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the dragonhide bag laying in a crumpled heap on the ground. What a filthy, heavy, normal-looking thing it was. How unimportant it was. A falling apart piece of hide filled with artifacts no one cared about anymore. She stepped back from it as if it were alive and would grab her foot.

The baby moved, a full body rotation that made her gasp and she held one hand to the side of her belly. How close had she come to death on this quest? How many times had she risked her baby's life as well? She stared down at the satchel, feeling her entire mind turning with realization.

She hated this quest. She hated what she had done for it, and more than anything, she hated herself for not realizing how she was acting before now. The baby kicked again, reminding her that she did not have much time for introspection. She fixed the locations she was heading to in her mind, then reluctantly picked up the satchel and slung it over her shoulder again. She couldn't leave it here for someone else to pick up and get sucked into. After everything was over, after she had the baby and more importantly, found Elforen, she would take it back to Silithus. She felt the familiar hum settle into her ears, but she fought against it, trying to keep her mind in focus. If the dragons wanted the Scepter so much, they could find it themselves.

Filled with determination, she struck off down the road to the animal clinic first. Even if she wasn't there, surely someone would know where she was or what she was talking about.

"Raene Wolfrunner?" The blue-haired druid frowned as he turned the lock on the clinic door. She had barely caught up to him on his way out the door.

"She hasn't been in all week. She leaves most of the vet work to the apprentices now. She spends the majority of her time at the compound."

Zarabethe clenched her teeth against a contraction and tried not to let it show on her face. "Can you tell me where that is?"

The druid gave her a pitying look. "I'm afraid not. I've never been there, and the location isn't made public, for safety reasons. You'll have to either find her or someone that works there."

That was the most helpful piece of information she found all afternoon. Raene's house was subsequently empty, and from what Zarabethe could see from the windows, she hadn't been home recently. She wandered the streets of Astranaar, poking her nose into the businesses closing up early, and getting just as little help. As dusk started to descend upon Ashenvale and the crowds began to hit the streets, she felt panic start to set in as her contractions grew stronger, stopping her in her steps every single time. Raene had been reclusive lately it seemed: either the person she asked didn't know who she was talking about, or they hadn't talked to her in months. No one knew where the compound was.

Zarabethe leaned against the side of a house, watching a mass of people in front of her with extreme trepidation. She had always assumed if she made it this far, she'd be safe. Now she was in a large town full of people, and she had no idea which direction to go. She felt her belly tighten up, and she closed her eyes, whimpering. Labor didn't last forever: she was on borrowed time. She had to find Raene.

She set out into the thick of the crowd, desperation fueling her steps. Maybe instead of at work she was actually out enjoying herself. Raene had long hair the same color as hers, dark purple. She fought her fear of strangers, and grabbed at the sleeve of every purple-haired woman she found. None of them were Raene. Her searching grew more urgent, and people actually walked around her if they saw her heading toward them. She felt shunned, like some kind of lunatic, and fear started to buzz in her ears. Did she look like some kind of untrustworthy person? Why was no one helping her?

She retreated to a row of empty houses and clung to a piece of fencing. From the bits of conversations she had caught, tonight was three days before Lunar Festival, and the town of Astranaar was hosting a huge decorating ceremony. It was almost as bad as the festival itself: almost every person in town was gathered in the town square, and all the shops and homes were empty. She searched the gathering with a desperate eye for anyone that she recognized. She saw someone skirting along the edge of the crowd, and stepped forward to call to him.

"Please, can you help me? I need to find someone-" Her words died in her throat as he turned around. It didn't matter that he was wearing a traditional druid's garb, or that his eyes glowed golden and not silver. It didn't matter that he was a huge man, at least a foot taller than her, with shoulders wide like a bear's. His hair was long, thick, and the color of new fallen snow, and the shape of his eyes and the cut of his face was so very familiar that she choked on her voice and tears started to run down her cheeks. He gave her a half-quizzical look, shook his head, and turned back to the crowd. She backed away from the crowd, pushing herself against the empty house behind her, and collapsed against the inset doorway. She leaned her head against the frame and sobbed as she felt how very lost and alone she was, and how much it was all her fault.

Think, Zara, think! The vice closed around her again, and her sobs caught in her throat as she dug her fingernails into her hair. She panted, panicking, feeling completely at the whim of this force of nature that was carrying her along with it.

Cats. What do cats do when they give birth?

She pushed herself up further into the alcove of the doorway, trying to keep herself out of sight. Spook paced in front of her, blocking her from the eyes of anyone that passed them by.

They hide. They find somewhere safe and alone.

The baby jumped inside her, a static, forceful movement as if she was trying to kick her way out. Zarabethe doubled over and pressed her forehead against the door frame. Another contraction started and she moaned and gripped the wood tightly. It seemed to take forever until it eased up, and she tried to make herself think.

Alone.

She looked up at the doorway she was crouched in. Most of the houses in this row were empty, and she turned the door handle. It was locked. In desperation, she stood up, and rammed her shoulder into it with all her strength. The door popped open, and she fell inside. She tried to get to her feet and stumbled back down to all fours, gasping in pain. From some distant corner of her primal brain, she remembered that she was supposed to focus on her breathing. She tried to slow her panting into something resembling an even rhythm. Even though she felt as if she were being torn in two, it did help to think about something so basic and instinctual. Everyone had to breathe. Breathe in slowly, breathe out in a moan. Nothing existed but the air moving in and out.

Footsteps thumped down the steps across the hall from her and she heard Spook place herself between her and the new person. She glanced up as a night elf woman in a simple blue robe stepped lightly down the steps, concentrating on braiding her hair.

"I said I was coming, can you not wait ten seconds? I can't decide what dress to wear tonight." She got to the bottom landing and looked up from her hair. She threw herself backward in surprise.

"Oh!"

Spook rumbled low in her throat, and Zarabethe slid her dagger out of her boot. She couldn't do much more than clench it tightly as her attention was completely captured by her body again. A pained cry escaped her lips, and she didn't even have the strength to be embarrassed by it.

"Oh shit."

The other night elf clapped both her hands over her mouth for a moment in shock, then rushed forward. Spook took one step to the side, just enough to let the woman up to Zarabethe. She seemed flustered, but there was recognition in her eyes at least.

"Okay, so you're definitely pregnant, right? So you must be looking for Raene?"

Zarabethe gasped in relief. "Yes, yes, thank Elune, I've been looking all afternoon and no one knew what I was talking about."

The woman pushed her half-braided hair over her shoulder and pulled her to standing. Zarabethe yelled and gripped her arm as she tried to take a step. Every single movement seemed to produce another contraction, and she couldn't even feel a break in between them anymore. The woman held her with both arms, steadying her.

"I know right where the birth compound is, I volunteer there on the weekends. I'll take you there, we just have to get you walking."

She pulled on her arms, and Zarabethe stumbled forward, trying to remember how to stay upright. One step at a time, they made it out of the ruined door, around the corner, and behind the row of houses. It seemed every two steps her entire body locked up and she no longer cared who heard, she was crying out in pain, and the other night elf reminded her to breathe and waited until she could walk again. They were nearly to the stables when she felt something strange. She looked down at her feet, and realized that her pants were soaking wet. The other night elf followed her eyes and cursed again.

"Okay, now we have to hurry."

CLIFFHANGER!

I'm forgoing review replies on this one, because I'm going to get the next chapter up very soon, it just needs a tiny bit of editing.