The blazing Durotar sun peeked over the horizon, bathing their camp in the soothing hues of dawn. Warm rays of light kissed Jesika's cheeks and lifted her gently from her lumber. Her eyes flickered open to a small cooking fire,the tantalizing smell of fresh meat assaulting her empty stomach.

"Good, you're up," Theron said as he carefully rotated his breakfast on a makeshift spit. It took Jes a moment to orient herself and remember where she was. The rust coloured rocks around her... the angular elven face watching his meal with eyes that glowed a dim, unnatural green... her dog sharing a haunch of meat with a Lynx double his size… it was all an abrupt shock, as if her brain had forgotten and expected to wake up in her room. The cloak draped over her was grounding, familiar- something corporeal that helped her prove to herself that this was real.

"Jesika?"

Theron's voice was the anchor that brought her back down to reality. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, pulling the cloak closer for comfort. "Yes?" she asked with a yawn, "What's up?"

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," she replied half-heartedly. The young woman shifted, unease plain on her face, then decided to pipe up: "Have you ever woken up from a dream expecting to be somewhere, but you're still in bed and it takes a few seconds to realize where you are?"

Theron nodded.

"That's exactly how I feel. It's like… it's like yesterday was a dream and I anticipated waking up at home, only none of it was a dream."

"Not surprising. You should eat; it will make you feel better." He offered her a cut of meat from the spit.

Jes tore into without hesitation, savoring the juices that spilled out of the meat with each bite. "Oh my Lord," she groaned joyfully, mouth full, "this is amazing!"

Her companion smiled- he really smiled, and the sight was unexpectedly warming. "Thank you very much," Theron beamed with a dip of his head. "Since we are so close to the capitol, I figured i could spare the remainder of my spices and replenish them in the city."

"Well, whatever you did to this is pure magic. You sure you aren't a mage?" She winked.

Theron looked as if he would puke. "By the Light, no!" he exclaimed, scrunching his nose. "Mages are far too snobbish for my taste. They tend to think that being born with the gift of the arcane makes the superior."

Jesika snorted. "It was a joke, but thanks for the info," she quipped, a sarcastic smile decorating her face.

He stared at her, puzzled, until understanding seemed to hit him like a brick to the face. She could've sworn she saw him blush but he turned away, reaching for something, before she could get a good look.

Theron pulled a cowl out from behind a rock. "I finished it last night," he said, handing it to her. "Please, try it on. I made it a bit large to make up for the lack of your measurements."

The young woman held up a finger and reached into her own bag. It wasn't until she donned a stretchy black tank top that she took the cowl and pulled it over her head. It fit loosely- more like a headscarf than a cowl, but luckily for Jesika, the way it hung on her head allowed the lip to obscure her face in shadows.

"How do I look?" she prompted.

"Perfect, except for one thing." Theron stepped around the fire and crouched in front of her. He pulled up one of the excess pieces of cloth hanging around Jes' neck so it covered everything below her eyes, from the middle of the bridge of her nose, downward. The elf then slipped his hands inside her hood on either side of her head and fiddled with something. Jesika could feel the mask tighten little by little until pleasantly snug. "How does that feel?" Theron asked, slowly withdrawing his hands.

Jes' words stuck in her throat. He had paused momentarily, cradling her neck, thumbs gingerly resting on her cheeks, almost reluctant to move. Her initial surprise quickly faded to mild discomfort as she broke the silence: "Erm… Theron," she murmured, touching his wrists.

That snapped him out of it.

His ears flushed a vibrant cherry red and he stammered, "I, uh… there are two… Two strips of fabric in the back of your cowl." He coughed. "More of a hood, really."

Jesika shot him a quizzical look.

Now recovered, her elven companion explained, "If you pull on those strips, you can tighten the mask as needed. You are free to leave it loose for comfort, or tighten it to remain in place during combat.. Whatever, uh, you might need."

"Oh, thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, finish your breakfast so we can get moving."

Jesika had no problem obeying. She pulled down her mask and chowed down on the last bit of her meat. Just before getting up to leave, she and Theron split a small loaf of bread and gathered their things. With naught but a smoldering cooking fire in their wake and bellies pleasantly full, the duo resumed their journey.

Fortunately, the second leg was much better than the first; Theron and Jes had the main road to themselves for the most part so they were able to keep busy with small talk. Theron spoke of his latest adventures, captivating Jesika with talk of riveting battles over resources in Arathi Basin and questing on his way to the Dark POrtal. His stories took her mind off of her sore feet, but no amount of talk could ease her growing anxiety as the capitol drew nearer.

"So, what is training like?" Jesika asked while they sat down for lunch.

"That is a very general question," Theron mused, passing her some bread.

"Well," she mumbled through a mouthful, "how does it work?"

Her companion nibbled thoughtfully on his lunch and threw Duke and Mira some jerky of their own before answering. "Most champions-to-be start fairly young- around twelve years old," he began, "though it is not uncommon for them to wait until their coming of age to begin training."

"When is that, typically?"

Theron shrugged. "It depends on the species. Blood elves' coming of age is 35, but I'm not sure if others start so young."

"Young!" Jes scoffed, "That's saying something."

Theron made a face. "It is young. We age much slower than most species, so at that point, the average elf is mentally a few years younger than you."

"Sorry to offend," she replied, pulling Duke into her lap and cuddling him close to her chest.

"You smother that poor animal," Theron chided as he munched on his lunch, Mira at his feet.

The young woman shrugged and squeezed her puppy lovingly. "You're just jealous," she teased.

The hunter bristled. "I am not!"

"Relax, Theron; I was kidding."

"Oh…" he coughed uncomfortably and fiddled with his lunch for a moment before standing rather abruptly. "Best we get going then," he decided and proceeded to gather his things. Mira dutifully rose and sauntered out to the road, already prepared to go.

Jesika blinked a few times, slightly taken aback by his behavior. "Oh… kay, uh, you still didn't answer my question though," she pointed out. Duke bounded ahead to harass Mira with massive black paws while Jes shouldered her pack.

Theron stared off into the distance, seeming to lose himself in their pets' exchange of playful blows.

"Hello?"

He snapped out of his reverie. "What is it?"

"You get very quiet when you're embarrassed," Jesika noted, taking the lead.

"I- well!" Theron sputtered indignantly. With no reasonable excuse to defend himself, the elf resigned to smoothing back his hair. "I was not embarrassed," he huffed, finally.

Jesika stifled a laugh. "Whatever you say, Theron." From there they traveled in silence for quite some time, but she didn't mind. Travelers were sparse enough for the young woman to take in the scenery.

Walls of dirt and stone stretched skyward to form the impressive canyon through which they traveled, complete with a rocky overhang on both sides that cast a wonderfully cool shade. Jesika smiled, grateful for the respite from Durotar's infamous heat. As their walk continued, her eyes drifted upward from the cracked, rust-coloured road to the ribbon of sky above- a cloudless river of blue that brought yet another warm grin to her lips. It came as a shock that she would love a desert so much, for one who hated heat and summer, but this land called to her. Its harsh beauty was unparalleled by anything her world had to offer, and this was just the beginning.

"What are you smiling about?" Theron asked.

Jesika shifted her gaze to Duke trotting faithfully by her side. "I'm just happy to be here," she replied, stroking his sleek black head.

Fel-tained eyes watched her for a few seconds. "Would you still like to hear about training?"

Jes nodded excitedly, offering her full attention.

"Well, it's fairly simple really. One begins with the basics..."

Theron went on to explain the process in painful detail, most of which Jesika already knew. Champions-to-be trained through 'units,' each unit took an increasing amount of experience to completely master and move on to the next; battle groups were separated by increments of four past level ten- ten through fourteen, fifteen through twenty, etcetera. Though she already learned most of the information through playing the game, she was surprised to find that one didn't have to actually go out in the world and fight to progress so long as one had a guild willing to teach them. Jesika listened intently through it all, admiring the passion with which he spoke.

Night fell as the duo and their pets finally emerged from the canyon and settled down to make camp.

"Is that Orgrimmar?" Jes asked, gesturing toward the lights in the distance that she could only assume were massive torches.

Theron nodded and pulled out his bedroll. "It will take us approximately one day to reach the city from here," he said. "Once there, we will stay the night outside of the walls and…"

"And…?"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Theron, answer me," Jesika ordered. Her voice was low and stern and she could tell that her abrupt change in attitude unnerved him.

Theron smoothed back his shimmering blonde hair and sighed, "Then we walk in and seek audience with Thrall."

The young woman's barely containable glee was swiftly snuffed out by a stark realization. "You say that like you have not yet sent word to the Warchief's council," Jes pointed out, eyeing her companion warily.

He paled.

"Theron," she growled, "tell me you can gain audience with the Warchief in a day."

"Yes and no…"

"Explain."

"We will be able to speak with Thrall without a prior appointment, it simply might take a few hours to wait until he is available."

Jesika felt heat rising to her face and forced herself to take a deep breath before speaking. "Theron, every second we are in Orgrimmar without Thrall's approval is another second my LIFE is at risk!" she shouted, composure lost. Theron opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off; "And that's assuming I even get past the guards in the first place! Fucking Hell! How could you not think this through?!"

Her companion's eyes narrowed into glowing green slits. "Well, if you would care to listen, Jesika, you would know that I have a plan."

"Oh?" Jes chirped mockingly, "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"I will bind your wrists as though you are my prisoner. If we are stopped, I will tell the guards that you are being delivered for interrogation."

"And if we aren't stopped?"

Theron shrugged. "Then you may slip your binds."

A few pensive moments passed.

"Well, in that case, I'm sorry," Jesika conceded. "I stand corrected. Also… I'm sorry I yelled. One mistake on your part shouldn't have gotten me so upset."

The elf looked up from his bags but continued to silently pull out their dinner.

She met his gaze steadily and explained, "You have to understand why I was so quick to react. My life is on the line here and I'm worried that my safety is not a concern of yours if it's not easily handled. I know I'm a human and you probably don't trust me one-hundred-percent, but my fate is in your hands more than ever as soon as we step foot in the capitol."

Theron nodded. "I understand," he divulged, "It was my mistake, not thinking to contact the council sooner. I will remedy the situation." He grabbed his necklace and murmured a few words. The stone pulsated a faint blue and… kept… pulsing… and pulsing….

"Who are you calling?" Jes whispered.

"My-" he was cut short as the light solidified, by a muffled voice on the other side. "Aedyndel, it is urgent, apologies for- yes, I know it is late, I-"

Jesika snickered.

Face in his hands, Theron quietly endured what seemed like quite the talking to. Finally, he confessed, "I failed to contact the council about my audience with Thrall. Could you…" he trailed off, allowing the implication to speak for itself.

A few moments of silent listening passed and an expression of surprise crossed his face; "Oh? Well, thank you, Aedyndel. Yes, goodnight."

"What did he say?"

Theron slipped into his bedroll and replied, "He already took care of it."

Jes let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness he thought ahead. Who is he?"

Theron, visibly uncomfortable, got settled in his bedroll as Mira laid down by his feet. "We have a long day ahead of us," he said tersely. "Get some rest."

Confused yet compliant, the young woman pulled a light sweater and compact blanket from her pack to create a makeshift bed with her pack as a pillow; without a fire, the cold caught up with her- even Duke cuddled against her for warmth.

^v^v^v^

Morning came soon enough, alongside their growling stomachs. With the excitement of the capitol hanging over them, dinner the night before had gone forgotten.

"I'm starting," Jes moaned, packing her things.

Theron tossed her some leftover Jerky. "We eat on the road," he instructed. "We haven't time to waste."

They continued onward to the final leg of their journey, the girl chomping happily away at her breakfast. As per usual, she entertained him with questions about life on Azeroth, beaming up at him with that gentle smile of hers. She was a very happy creature… consistently finding joy in the simplest of thing. Theron found himself gazing at her in wonder a handful of times, allowing his eyes to explore her silhouette as she grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. The black tank she wore was skin tight and flattered her curves, its stretchy material clinging to-

"What are you staring at?"

The elf gulped; she had turned catching his wandering eyes and held him with her own, iris' an interesting muddy brown. With her mask up and singling out her eyes, Jesika's stare was more intense than usual, rendering him briefly stunned.

"I, uh…" he stammered, blushing.

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't spend much time around women, do you?"

Theron's blush deepened. "What makes you say that?"

Jesika shrugged and returned her eyes to the approaching capitol. "The way you look at me sometimes… it's not so much admiration as it is…" she trailed off, searching for the proper word, "...awe. Like you're more curious than anything."

He let go of the tightness in his chest, relieved, until he realized she was wrinkling her nose. "I take it that is not a good thing," the elf observed.

"Well, I'm not some oddity," she explained distastefully, shooting him a piercing glare. "I'm a person. You shouldn't look at me like… like a… some kind of bipedal bear or other novelty."

"No! I didn't mean- I was just-" Theron stopped himself from saying 'appreciating' and scrambled for an excuse. "I am curious," he admitted. "You are fascinated by the smallest of things, always happy."

Jesika threw her head back and laughed generously, dropping her hood in the process. She quickly tucked her ponytail back into it and pulled it back up, still chuckling softly. Though he didn't understand what was so funny, Theron couldn't help but smile, even Duke trotted over from a rock he was investigating up ahead to see what the commotion was about. The joyful light was still dancing in her eyes when she looked up at her elven companion.

"My parents would've loved to hear you say that," she said. A few quiet seconds passed before the girl answered his question: "To be honest, you would act the same if you lived in my world."

Theron furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side. "Care to explain?"

"Maybe later," Jes said, stopping in her tracks, "we have other things to deal with." She pointed toward the horizon. Night was beginning to fall, but Theron could still make out a swiftly approaching party of four.

He swore violently and began to search his bags. "The patrol was sent out early," he muttered, pulling out a bloodstained tunic. "Put this on."

"It has blood all over it!" she hissed, "Who's blood-"

Theron yanked her arms up over her head and snapped in a hushed whisper, "We don't have time for this! Keep your arms up!"

Jesika's eyes widened, her expression a mixture of shock and something else he couldn't quite name. Either way, she obeyed with a meek, "Yes,sir," and he dropped the tunic over her, her slender arms easily sliding into the sleeves.

The patrol was almost upon them.

"Hopefully the old blood will hide your scent," Theron said as he removed the remains of his cloak from his bags. He just managed to drape it over her shoulders when the mounted grunts arrived before them.

"Victory or death," the green skinned orc greeted, slamming a fist to his chest in an orcish salute.

"Victory or death," Theron repeated dutifully, mimicking the gesture. "How may we assist you?"

The orc that greeted them huffed and leaned forward on his mount. "The wolves caught wind of an Alliance scent as we came near," he began. "Any idea why?"

Theron opened his mouth to speak, but a darker orc beside the apparent leader noticed something. "The female is bloodied, sir," the grunt commented. "It looks dry."

Theron glanced at Jes just in time to see her pull the sides of the cloak together. They had seen her- his tattered tunic. Luckily, she hadn't forgotten to keep her head down so all was not lost.

The leader inhaled deeply. "Smells like elf… mostly," he confirmed, "but also… human?"

"Sir, I can explain," Theron countered.

The orcs surrounded them, wolf mounts snorting.

Suddenly, he felt a hilt pressed into his hand and looked down: Jesika's hunting knife was in his hand, smeared with blood. Worry stung his chest at the sight of it, but there was no time to dwell on it.

"Who's your friend, Elf?" the leader asked, "And why does she smell so… confusing?"

"She is my sister," Theron explained, "We had a run in with a human rogue."

The three underling orcs grumbled among themselves until their leader silenced them.

"Why's her blood dry?" he growled with growing suspicion.

"Those stains are from earlier wounds," the elf fibbed, though it was not entirely a lie. "The blood you smell is her blade. Here." Theron revealed Jesika's bloody dagger and handed it over.

The orcs passed it around, each taking a whiff. Satisfied, the leader returned her blade and ordered his men to fan out. "The blood is still fresh!" he bellowed, spurring his mount onward. "The rogue can't be far!"

Theron and Jesika hurried forward, arriving at the capitol approximately ten minutes later. Winded but safe, they settled camp outside the walls, as far away from the entrance as possible.

^v^v^v^

Jes sat down and dropped her pack with a huff. "Definitely not meant for running," she panted. Duke collapsed next to her, just as spent.

"It was barely ten minutes," the elf quipped as he gathered some twigs for a small fire. His lynx strolled over to the puppy and sniffed him all over as if to make sure he was okay. Noticing this, Theron raised an eyebrow and speculated, "I think your pet has triggered Mira's maternal instincts.

"Nothing gets by you, does it, Sherlock?"Jesika sighed sarcastically, removing the first-aid kit from her bag.

"That's right, your hand!" Theron recalled. He walked over and knelt before her, concern etched in his face. "Allow me."

She hesitated, but ultimately acquiesced and let him inspect and dress her wound. "It's not that bad," she explained, wincing, "I've jut never been cut by a knife before."

Theron raised an eyebrow. "Never?"

"Well, I've gotten nicked here and there," Jes admitted, taking back her hand, "But no, never an actual cut like this."

"Best you get used to it…" the elf advised, trailing off into a few minutes of silence. Jesika had just taken a bite of her granola bar when he piped up again; "Why did you cut yourself?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked through a mouthful. "They smelled human, I was bloody; only logical excuse was a bloody dagger to go with your rogue story."

From there, the conversation shifted to plans for the following day and they spend quite some time discussing it. Finally, they agreed upon the simplest plan: approach Thrall, explain the situation, and hope for the best. The Warchief was a good orc, it was likely he would pardon Jesika.

With the coming events weighing on her, the young woman struggled to sleep and spent most of the night staring at alien stars, willing her audience to go well, eventually succumbing to exhaustion.