Chapter 4
"Sir," Tyrr said, lifting her hand above her eyes. It was an act she had grown to hate, but did because it was what was demanded of her by her superior: a human paladin known as Marcus Goodhand. She disliked him as well, though obeyed his orders like any good soldier would.
"Private Pantherfoot?" the paladin questioned.
"Yes sir," the elf said, still in her salute. A rule that Goodhand had begun to enforce when he took command of the outpost, was that when in the presence of a superior officer, the inferior must stand at attention until their better returns the salute or tells them to stand down. Goodhand, who had a blatant dislike of other races, had been know to leave his soldiers at attention for hours on end. Tyrr began to fear her arm would grow numb when he said: "At ease."
She happily lowered her salute.
"How did the scouting of the Goblin's mining operation go?" the paladin asked.
"Sir," she began, the word tasting disgusting on her tongue. "I was discovered and attacked by a large group of the miners. They overwhelmed me."
"How did you survive, elf?" Goodhand asked, xenophobia dripping from his lips.
"A…" Tyrr stopped to think of the right words, "mysterious man saved me. He treated my wounds and when I was well enough I set out for the camp."
"Oh," the human said, almost disappointed. "Well, it's good that you've returned. This was sent to me by a comrade in Ratchet."
Tyrr was handed a paper document, the words: WANTED written boldly along the top. "Sir, forgive me, butwhy would we aid the Forsaken?"
"King Anduin Wrynn has decided the Tauren, if it is so feared by the Dark Lady, may hold valuable information. He, as well as the other leaders of our great races, desire it's capture for interrogation. Information states that the Tauren may be in this area. Have you seen any that fit the description?"
Tyrr attempted a laugh. "You know all those cows look alike."
"Yes, of course. I order you to disregard any missions you may be working on at this time. From this moment on, your only quest will be tracking down this Graywalker and bringing it to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir, I understand."
Tyrr quickly went to the stables: where her mount awaited. The gigantic nightsaber, easily twice the size of the night elf, purred loudly at the sight of her master. Tyrr happily stroked the jungle cat's head and scratched behind the ear. "We have much to do Aisha," Tyrr whispered. "And I have much to tell you. But nowwe must leave this camp."
The nighsaber continued to purr and lowered to the ground, allowing Tyrr to saddle and mount the jungle cat. She leaned forward and allowed Aisha to smell a small bit of cloth. "I took this off the Tauren when we first met, use it to find him. Please."
The nightsaber meowed recognition and slowly set out of the town. When they had passed the last guards, she set out at full speed.