AN: I hated this chapter. I love the characters, but I absolutely hated it because I knew just how badly it would affect one of my characters. I also had an opportunity to introduce a younger character who never really makes an appearance unless it's in my adult stories. If you've read Black Collar Twins, you'll know which one she is. Black Collar is set further into the future, but here are that character's modest beginnings.
In other news, I'm really starting to get this blogging thing down. Be sure to check my blog once in a while, and feel free to chatter about on any posts I make there. I'll hush for a while. Enjoy.
"... just keep..."
"... waking up?"
"Paladin... lucky..."
"Should be dead."
Words filtered into her ears as she slept, rousing only long enough from the coils of warmth around her to hear broken words before succumbing to the siren call and falling back to sleep once more. She was aware of the feeling of soft cloth on her body, the security of her armor gone to be replaced by the comfort of a dark place that non would find her in. Triadae slept, uncaring of the world that moved around her as others tended to her and then left once more.
Consciousness returned to her slowly; at first the dancing of light barely seen beyond closed eyes, and then the acknowledgment of movement that gently rocked her like a cradle. The illusion was shattered as a sharp bump jostled her and sent things rattling around her before they settled again, and she lifted her head from the pillow to look about into dimly lit darkness.
Two long rectangles of light flanked either side of her. The one closest yielded beneath her touch; a window that had been closed tightly, but warped wood made the light peek in. Questing fingers found cloth above the window, and a few tugs lowered a shade over it, dousing the light that had begun to make her head ache dully. She moved to do the same to the other one, her long legs tucking up, and she was stopped by the sound of soft complaint, and a warmth at her legs shifting and moving.
The warrior rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, keeping them covered as the figure moved around more, and did what she had intended to do in the first place. The darkness did not last for long, as another bump set things clattering and a whispered word threw the room into light that was quickly shaded by a tiny hand.
"M' head hurts." Her words were thick with disuse, and she coughed in an attempt to clear her throat that only made her cough more fully, her head pounding with the effort. "Ergh..."
"You've been asleep for a week."
The light dimmed slightly, hidden away by a panel that stopped it from piercing into her head. The shuffling quickened, and then stopped as the figure came near again and wrapped her hand around a flask. Triadae lingered with that touch, running the pad of her finger along the back of the hand offered. "You're small," she stated stupidly, taking the flask and draining the fresh water from it greedily.
"Children often are."
The soft voice was feminine and laced with an amused, if mildly bored, sort of tone. The small hands took the empty flask from her, leaving her to hiccup softly while the assumed child fetched other things. The elder woman leaned back as a small table was placed over her lap, the scent of sharp cheese and cold meats assailing her groggy senses. Her stomach rumbled, and she stared dumbly at he platter before her as if she had no idea what she could possibly do with it. She was hungry, and knew this... but her body was taking too long to respond. "Where am I?"
"Mother's caravan." The child sat opposite her on the bed and rolled a bit of cheese in a slice of meat, leaning forward and poking at Triadae's lips with the concoction. Obediently, the woman opened her mouth and allowed herself to be fed while the girl spoke. "You were brought back unconscious after your rescue. Ashadel confessed to drugging you, but you reacted to the drug in a way she didn't anticipate. You may have been allergic to one of the ingredients. The antidote she gave you knocked you out further than the original drug intended you to be," she paused as she rolled up another bit of meat and cheese, "She said you were talking in a way that made her feel as if you intended to die."
Triadae didn't speak while she chewed, her mind clear enough to recall common courtesies. The girl didn't seem to mind this, continuing in her methodical feeding as if she was used to such things. "You were in one of the other carts, but Mother decided to move you here when you didn't come out of it after we left Hyjal. She wanted to keep a better eye on you, but what really ended up happening was that she's dealt with other things while I've stayed with you." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Mother requires the children to stay inside when we move out, but the wolf girl ran off when we entered Winterspring and vanished. We stayed in place for two days, but we couldn't stay any longer. We'll be at the Timbermaw tunnels by the middle of the night, and Felwood by morning."
"Wolf girl... Brinella?" Triadae swallowed her food and looked around for something else to drink. "Why'd she run off?"
The child moved again, bringing over more water that Triadae eagerly gulped down. "We don't know. Vernos says she took off after a set of tracks, but he couldn't follow her once the blizzard started. The most he knew was that the prints were some of the biggest he'd seen around here, and were certainly feline. The tracks are long gone, now. Hers, and the cat's."
They sat in silence for a time, rocking with the cart and listening to the whistling wind outside the cart. Twice more, the child moved to get more for the older woman to drink, until Triadae at last set the platter and tray aside and moved to place her feet on the wooden floor. She found it surprisingly warm, wriggling her toes over the smooth material in wonder.
"Mother takes good care to make certain that the caravan can live in even the worst places. The magic that is woven around us has many different uses. May I get the light? Mother said there was a robe you could use, and I need light to do it. My dark sight is not as keen as most elves. Thank you." The light brightened the area again, illuminating the child and the cart in a warm glow.
Triadae had been expecting a youth, but not one as young as that who wandered in search of things in front of her. The child was pale, though not sickly. No marks were on her face or visible skin, and her crow-dark curls were bound back from a sweetheart face set with slightly tilted silver eyes. Even so young, she was breathtaking to behold in her grace and gentle manner. Yet even that did not startle her as much as what the child wore. Robes of black silk embraced her form, bell sleeves hiding her slender arms and delicate hands when at rest, and they were stitched with the runes that were meant to harness, subdue, focus, and channel latent energy. The twisting silver thread entranced the warrior, and she noted that they were all meant for great amounts of power.
"How old are you?"
The child turned towards her, holding a simple grey tunic and white leggings, her head cocked slightly. Her eyes, wide with the nature of a child and yet full of the knowledge of the old, focused on the warrior in a manner that made her feel as if she had asked the wrong thing. The look passed quickly, and the child seemed to think for a few moments. "I'm not yet ten years old."
"Those runes..."
"I have trouble controlling my arcana. Mother's dedication is to Elune, my father is a High Priest of Neptulon. He's a very skilled magi, and his family have always borne powerful people." Her unsettling silver eyes focused on Triadae again, the small amount of pride that had been in her voice dashed away by the warrior's stare. "Yes, I'm a half-breed. No, I don't know where my father is. He's a very important person, and doesn't have time for Mother's martyr ways and policies." She rattled it off as if it were a mantra she had heard a thousand times before, and handed the clothes over to Triadae. "Mother left the priestesses to gain the knowledge she needed to keep me in check. If my father can't be here, at least she can.
You're taller than Mother, but she's far more filled out than you. These may be a little loose, but you're welcome to them. I'll find a sash while you dress, and you may use my brush to sort your hair out if you need. Your boots are by the door, but everything else was too beaten up to keep. Our craftsmen are some of the best, but all of them deemed your things too far gone to save."
Triadae stood and turned away, feeling awkward beneath the child's stare, as if the girl could see to the very furthest corners of all that she wished to keep away. It was while she was dressing and trying to figure out just how much more 'filled out' the child's mother was that the girl spoke again.
"Ashadel says you're a paladin." The girl was behind her, reaching fingers to touch the crimson hair that streamed in knotted strands down Triadae's back. "The man who calls you his friend says that you're not one. That you haven't been able to call on the Light in a long time, nor have you had the desire to. Ashadel does not lie, and would not say such things if she had not seen them first hand. So why would you tell others you are something you are clearly not?"
The warrior turned to look down at the girl, fussing with keeping the leggings that were clearly meant for wider hips up above her own. "What makes her say that?"
"She said there was no way either of you should have survived that drop. Forgetting the drop, the massive amount of rubble that drop atop of you was enough to make those who had made it out think that you two were both dead. Yet, you were found completely whole, with barely a mark on you." The child held out a sash, and Triadae took it and worked it through the leggings to bind them firmly. "She said she felt a presence, something only found around those quite devoted to the Light."
"I used to be a Blood Knight. The paladin equivalent among my people. Before that, I was a priestess like your mother. Those days are long gone, far behind me now. Whatever she saw or felt... it had nothing to do with me. I can't even pretend that I hope it was." She sat down, looking for the brush only to have it handed over to her by the girl. She nodded her thanks, pulling her hair over her shoulder and pulling the brush through the tangles.
"Luck only goes so far. Many would find it difficult to believe that you aren't hiding something." The child clambered onto the bed, sitting beside her and taking the brush to move behind and gently comb through the tangled tresses with care. "Be careful that you do not pass off what you are capable of as simply... 'luck.'" She set the brush down to weave her fingers through a particularly difficult snarl. "I believe you, though."
"You do?"
"Yes." The child shifted her position, sitting on Triadae's side to pull the longest layer of hair into her lap and combing through it like she might a cat. "Mother made the choice to give up her capabilities as a priestess of her deity. Of our deity," the girl smirked as Triadae shot her a look, "I choose to believe that she who has guarded my Mother is not picky about those who would choose to believe in her. Granted, my Mother's kin do not truly approve of me, given my blood. I receive the same treatment among humans, so I have little care to admit my beliefs. The Light is an ideal that I follow, that I want to believe in. I don't believe there's some god of Light that many of the other humans do, but I believe in the ideals."
"You're a pretty smart kid."
"Mother tells me that all the time. So do others. If you hear something enough, you're bound to believe it eventually. I don't need others to tell me that I'm amazing, or beautiful, or anything else." The child's tone was blunt, completely factual. "I know my limits and capabilities, but I love to push them. I'm intelligent because I've never allowed anything others believe to be beyond me actually remain out of my reach. I read, I ask questions, I practice. Sometimes, I fail. I'm a pretty girl, because my mother and father are attractive people. That much, I cannot help.
How much do you need others to tell you?" Her tone had turned curious, gentle. "You talked in your sleep quite a bit. Things you said, it sounded like you had a lot of guilt. That you ached for approval that others would gladly give you, but you refused to believe. You are a... confusing individual. Something I cannot understand."
Triadae chuckled softly, almost sadly, and took the brush from the girl and set it back on the small table it had been resting on. "Some things are best not known. If I confuse you, then I can only assure you that my own confusion is countless times deeper. I wish I had answers, but I don't."
For a moment, the girl's brows furrowed and she saw the slightest flicker of a glow in the silver eyes. The full lips pulled in a frown, and Triadae could have sworn she saw the faintly pointed ears twitch in irritation. Then the moment passed, the storm calmed, and the girl brightened in a manner that she was sure was rare. "Do you like to read, warrior?"
"Tria, and yes, I do."
"My name is Kas'viri. You may call me Viri. What do you like to read?"
"Anything." She grinned. "I liked stories about dragons, when I was younger."
Kas'viri scrambled off of the bed to open another cabinet and withdraw a large tome that she brought back to the bed with a skip in her step. She placed it gently on Triadae's lap before she climbed back into the bed and snuggled down under the blankets and looked up at the warrior with a sweet smile. "I'm sleepy. Would you read to me?"
Triadae chuckled softly, running fingers over the leather cover before she arranged herself beside the child with her back against the wall, and opened the book. The hours passed quickly, and she continued reading long after the girl fell asleep against her side. From time to time, she'd catch herself slowly sliding fingers through the dark curls that spilled over the child's shoulder and her pillow, and she was reminded strongly of Tiroth and the child her sister had borne with him. She wondered if he had these moments, these quiet times where a story was a shared joy, where looking at a child made one feel like they had accomplished everything. Even the fact the child was not hers could not demolish the calm that she felt.
Her thoughts were jostled when the cart stopped moving, the soft sound of Kas'viri turning to her other side and burying herself beneath the covers missed beneath the louder sound of people moving on the roof of the cart above her. Laying the book aside, she stood and grabbed a cloak from beside the door before opening it slowly, peering out into the white of the landscape that had become colored with the dusky hues of twilight.
"Those noises. Damn it all, it's either mating or fighting."
Triadae glanced upwards and caught sight of a cloak that was hanging over the side of the cart's roof. Closing the door behind her, she leaped lightly down from the platform and circled around to find others who were talking among themselves, huddled together for warmth while others ran between the other carts.
"Sound travels far out here. They could be miles off, they could be close. Anything near the carts is a threat. Keep your eyes on the trees. Damned cats are like ghosts out here. Damn it, Tanner! Get back in the cart with your sisters. You know the rules! Matron would have my head if she caught you out here."
She backed against the cart as a thin boy went scrambling by, his wind-chapped face flushed. One of the men peeled away from the group to follow, missing Triadae completely. Others were not so blind, and she found herself approached quickly by several cloaked figures.
"You're awake. Good, my sister will be happy to know that you're not a lost soul." Silver eyes pierced her, a mingled look of bland distaste and detached acceptance plain in the gaze. The woman was taller than her by a head, if not more, and blue hair could be made out beneath the brown of the hooded cloak that concealed the rest of her. "I trust you were not disturbed by the whelp?"
"No," Triadae frowned at the reference, but others did not seem to be offended. "She was polite company. Gave me things to wear, helped me brush my hair, and told me what had happened while I was asleep. I read a book to her, and she's asleep. The others... -"
"Are fine." The woman flicked a dismissive hand towards the back few carts, her eyes not leaving the shorter warrior. "A little bruised and shaken, but far more worried for you. I've hardly been able to control the fel weaver; his mate has had no more luck than I. Only the threat of throwing you out into the cold seemed to make him think twice. No, I would not have done it," she amended at Triadae's shocked look, "It's important for others to believe that I would, however."
"Brutal as always, Temis." The male that had left to go after the child returned again, his hood thrown back to reveal black hair that framed a darkly tanned face and vivid blue eyes. His clothing was thick, covered with belts and buckles, pouches and other various things that Triadae couldn't have even hoped to think that she could discern. His rugged appearance lent him a pleasing look. 'For a human,' she considered.
"Someone has to be. Else, we would never get what we need without compliments and bartering, Vernos." The woman turned away, stalking alone to the edge of the road they had stopped on and gazing out over the snowy landscape. Others dispersed as well, but the human male came closer and nodded.
"Good to see you up and walking. Your friends have been worried about you, you can find them around here somewhere. That warlock friend of yours has a mean temper that's only gotten worse over the last week. You can hear him and that woman of his arguing clear to the front of the line. The other two keep their distance from them. Do I have something on my face?" His eyes crinkled as he smiled.
"No, I was just thinking. You're the one who tracked Brinella, aren't you?"
"Eh, you heard about that? Musta been the kid. Uncanny girl, that one. Yeah, I followed her as far as I could before the trail was wiped out. We don't really like anyone going off alone, and she bolted off so fast I thought there was somethin' chasing her. Her ears were perked and everything; easier to read than a dog. Whatever got her, she knew it." He shrugged and motioned out towards the forest. "I've been keeping an eye out for her, thinkin' she might come after us. No sign so far, and it's been a few days. Have to admit that I'm worried. One of the prides is really worked up; must be cubs bein' born. They aren't usually like this."
Triadae nodded, her eyes catching sight of a few familiar faces, and she excused herself to slip through the crowds and touch the arm of the tallest. Lydros glanced at her at first, then put his full attention on her when he realized who it was that had approached.
"They say Brinella ran off." Her brows knit together as he looked away, back the way she had come. "She wouldn't just take off without a reason, would she?"
"What do ye care?" The shortest figure grunted beneath her cloak, throwing the hood back and placing her fists on her hips while glaring up at the elf. "We onleh jus' got 'er back, ye hear? She's changed. She's wilder, more skittish. Won't talk ta us like she used ta, like she's been tryin' ta put a wall between us. Tha' demon shaman was suppose ta cure 'er, but tha most tha's happened is she's just there."
"Stop it, Winnie." Lydros spoke his words beneath his breath, but the dwarf went quiet with little more than a grumble. "She caught scent of her fiance. The one who got her out of Gilneas and then vanished. I remember her telling us that he was like her, but ran around as a feline. I heard her whisper his name before she darted off."
"Ye idiot!" Winnie stormed back into the conversation, aiming a kick at Lydros' shin that completely missed it's mark and instead scattered a pile of snow. "Ye said ye hadn't the bloodiest clue why she went dartin' off! Ye lyin' oaf! What else ye been hidin'? More nightmarin'? More dreams? More women! Argh! Ye cannae lie ta me like this, ye lon' eared, high falutin'..." Her insults were ignored as Triadae grasped his hand and made him focus on her, an act that took more than she would have first thought.
"Your friend is dead." It was the first thing that came to her mind now that it was clear, and her voice had become soft and urgent. "Her sacrifice got me and another out of the camp we were in, but she's dead. I was supposed to give you something of hers, but I don't know where it is. Don't risk losing another friend."
Lydros' eyes flared with rage for a moment, his hand gripping hers so hard she thought he might break it, but then he calmed himself and a deep sorrow appeared instead. Without even a name, he knew the truth. His hand released hers, and he looked back at Winnie, still caught in her tirade, and unhooked a small hunting knife from his belt and handed it to her. "Directly to our west. My owl will lead you." Regret tinged his voice. "I can't leave her."
The warrior nodded, taking the knife and stowing it away. "I'll bring this back. Your owl..." She glanced up as he pointed, spotting an ethereal shape sitting in one of the trees, barely visible. "You don't make this easy, do you?" With a nod, she slipped away from him and his companion, and into the trees themselves. The large owl dropped from it's perch and followed.
She made one discovery quite quickly – she hated snow. It was as difficult to move through as sand, but colder and a hundred times more likely to kill you. By the time she crested the first hill, she was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face and quickly freezing. Whatever enchantment that kept the cart warm had been extended and worked into the cloak, but not the clothes she wore. Twice, she hit thin ice and plunged into freezing water up to her knees. Only after she glared a particularly nasty glare at the owl did it begin to warn her when she was nearing a dangerous area, and she spent the rest of her time floundering into drifts instead.
By the time she stopped again, the glow of the campfires that had been started by the caravan were out of sight and so were the voices. Around her was only the sound of ice laden trees breaking or exploding, and above it all, the noises that had guided her. The owl drifted lazily above her before swooping off in another direction, and with a shiver, she followed carefully down the hill to where the ethereal beast perched on a snow covered boulder.
Below them, something trudged through the snow as if unfamiliar with it. Brown against white, it was a stark contrast that riveted her to it even as it loped along, struggling against the snow and floundering in places even as she herself had done. There was another sound; the angry hissing roar of a feline that was agitated, and the brown figure turned back around and lunged into what seemed to be a wall of white. The tussle lasting only a few moments, and the brown was throw off course into the snow.
Triadae watched the snow ripple and move, and realized that what she was seeing was something even more eerie than the ghostly owl beside her. Vernos had not been exaggerating about the difficulty of seeing what was clearly large and deadly; the feline, massive even from the distance she was at, stalked after the stunned figure and was nearly upon it before the brown managed to rise and strike out again. The sound it made raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Though it cried out, she was certain she heard the plaintive wail of a woman behind the noise.
Grabbing the knife that Lydros had given her, the warrior slid and stumbled down the hill in an intense display of lack of skill, quickly darting into the furrows made by the larger feline. Closer up, she could see that the brown figure was also feline, but far smaller and longer, made mostly of a long tail. There was something about the green eyes of it that only made her back feeling worse, and she grabbed up a chunk of ice and did the only rational thing she could think of.
She chucked it at the back of the saber, hitting it in a painfully sensitive area that awarded her another roar and then the complete and utter focus of the deadly adversary. She barely noticed the other cat slink away as the white one came barreling at her, a furry mass of teeth and claws that spurred her to unsheathe the knife and attempt to defend herself.
An action that didn't even seem to be needed as a blur of brown threw the larger feline off-course. Triadae felt her blood run cold as the beast battled with the smaller animal, and then it threw it's opponent and bolted for the trees. Moments passed, Triadae struggling with fear and cold before she moved to where she thought she had seen the brown cat fall, and found the fallen figure of Brinella instead.
The woman was nude, thick fur covering her body, but not the wounds that she had endured. Already, the green glow of rejuvenating energy was working over her body and knitting together the broken skin, but the smell of blood was strong enough that Triadae gagged a moment before dropping beside the druid.
"Brinella." Her tone turned urgent as something snapped behind her, and she risked it to shake the druid furiously. She barely had a response before Brinella's eyes shot open, and Triadae was all but hauled a dozen feet away as the larger feline dropped upon them, and another fight broke out. The hissing of battling cats was gone, and now the wounded yelps of a canine were heard more as the two rolled, bit, slashed, kicked, and tussled around the clearing in a deadly dance.
When the white feline had it's back turned to her, she lunged at it, driving the dagger deep into it's hindquarters and gaining it's attention again. With it came Brinella's, and the warrior felt herself lifted off her feet and carried away while the feline thrashed about in an attempt to deal with the weapon.
"Don't hurt him."
"Don't hu - … have you looked at yourself?" She didn't feel ashamed at the shriek that came out with those words, looking over the bleeding wounds that covered the worgen's body once more. The woman was trembling, barely standing, but it was her voice that caught her attention quicker than the obvious pain.
"He doesn't understand. He thinks I'm here to hurt him. To hurt his pride..."
"Pride? Brinella, he's a cat. He's got no... no pride." Too late, she realized what the worgen meant. "Not his ego, his family." She looked at the enraged cat and realized with a painful jolt all that must have been going on. "That's him? Your fiance?"
Brinella whined, her ears flicking back along her skull as she ducked her head and clenched her clawed hands. "I smelled him. I thought he was following us. I thought... after all this time. I was so close." Her voice broke with tears, and she backed up a step as the cat that had been her dearest love finally wrenched the dagger from his hindquarters and focused on them again. "Get up the hill. Go... go now!"
Triadae didn't have to be told twice. She moved with far more grace than she had at first, climbing up and not looking back. She didn't need to, to know that the worgen was following her. So too, she knew, was the feral druid. Even when she crested the hill, she kept running, spurred by the fear of being torn to pieces in the grasp of the one chasing them. Brinella paused only to see the feline start climbing. He made it halfway up before a keening cry sounded, and the ethereal owl dropped from the sky and hit him hard, throwing him back to the ground where he lay, stunned.
She stopped running when she realized the worgen was no longer following her, peering back to see the other woman standing at the top of the hill, her shoulders hunched. After a few moments, she turned back towards her and drew up close enough to see the owl diving at the cat, keeping it down and distracted while Brinella looked on. Triadae's gentle touch seemed to startle her, and she whined softly under a breath.
"Go."
"I can't." The single word the druid had spoken had told Triadae more than she could have ever hoped or wanted to know. "If I leave, you'll just stay here and possibly die. You don't want to let him go, but look at him. He's trying to kill you, and you're barely making it out. How much longer before he gets you, and you don't get up again?"
"I'm not ready." Brinella gasped out the words as best she could, her body shuddering with a pain the cut far deeper than her physical anguish. "They warned me, but I didn't listen. If I was just a little faster, if I hadn't had to stop for months... I want to believe he's still in there, that he just needs a few good kicks. He was always like that. Brilliant, but so damned focused sometimes."
Triadae let her ramble, listening to her as she poured out her thoughts and hopes, and yet she knew with every word that the wall of hope was coming down around her to reveal only the stark and painful reality. "He's gone, Brin. There's always a chance, always the sliver of a possibility. He's lost to you, and nothing you say or do is going to bring him back now. Whatever he was, whoever he was... he doesn't remember it now."
"Then let me stay here. Let me die here, at his hand. I've lost everything else that I loved, so why can't I just... why can't I just... -" Her voice cracked again, and she assumed the same visage of a wounded wolf as her natural instincts and sorrow battled each other for dominance. "I just wanted one thing to go right. I kept smiling, I kept hoping. All the nightmares, all the fears, I could deal with it all if I could just have him back with me.
I can't do it. I'm not ready to let him go, and I know that to stay is to doom myself, and I don't care. With him, I at least still had Adeline. Some part of her, someone who remembered her as dearly as I did. I promised her... I promised Addy..." For a final time, her voice cracked, and Triadae was sure that the worgen would fall there and not move again, so violent had her trembling become.
She didn't know how to help her. The sheer size of the worgen made her intimidating, but the depth of her sorrow was a terror all it's own; a horrific mirror that she didn't want to look into for fear that she would relive her nightmares all over again. Still, she swallowed and reached a hand out to touch the rough fur, seeing the worgen as a woman, instead of the monster she had always seemed.
Beneath her touch, the worgen trembled and tensed, and then finally released a breath that she must have been holding for a long time. With a halting step, Brinella backed away from the hill where the owl still worked to distract a now clearly infuriated feline, and then turned away and continued on, every step seeming to drain away more and more of her size, until she was practically crawling along.
Triadae followed in silence, and when Brinella finally collapsed in the snow, she knelt beside her and gathered the nude woman into her arms and covered them both with the cape while the worgen turned woman cried into her shoulder. They were not disturbed by anything, not even the ethereal owl that circled above them as a silent sentinel while Brinella screamed her pain against Triadae's chest.
It was a long time before either of them moved, but Brinella moved first. Slowly, she unfolded herself from the other woman and crouched along the ground, fur sprouting over her body as she took the shape of the feline once more, and turned blank green eyes on her companion. Triadae didn't dare offer reassurances, knowing that things would never truly feel alright, and that she had done all that she could.
Together, the two made their way back to camp. It wasn't until long into the evening, when the caravan was about to move again, that they even managed to mingle. Vernos and Temis caught sight of Triadae quickly, the male offering her his cloak for more warmth, but she declined, watching instead as Brinella veered away Lydros and Winnie, and others who wanted to know what had happened, and made straight for one of the carts. Without a sound, Brinella shifted once more, pulled the door open, and vanished inside the dark interior.
Over the next few days, Triadae heard rumors that Brinella was refusing to eat or drink, remaining in bed and merely wasting away. By the time the caravan entered the elven forests of Ashenvale by way of Felwood, and the caravan prepared to split up to allow the horde members to move through Orgrimmar to resupply, the only rumors that centered around the druid were that she had left early in the morning and had said nothing to anyone.
It wasn't until they approached Azshara that Triadae happened to spot a brown feline pacing the forests alongside the horde tangent of the caravan, and whispered silent farewells as it paused at the bridge and they went over, watching with dull green eyes before vanishing from sight.