To Be a Huntress
The huntress steadied herself, grabbing at the rocky outcropping, gazing at the cliff over which the orc had fallen. Silence. The orc who'd terrorized Astranaar, shattering the lives of so many of her fellow Kal'dorei. On this snowy windswept summit, her oath of vengeance was fulfilled.
But she would not be descending from the peak in triumph. In the frantic struggle, the pack containing her belongings had gone over the cliff. Moments before her desperate kick sent the orc rolling over the edge, somehow he had gotten his hands on one of her barbed arrows, plunging the improvised weapon into her abdomen. A thin rivulet of bright red blood dribbled from the wound. She knew without a doubt that the barbed tip was buried somewhere in her guts, and without even her meager healing aids, it would be a slow and agonizing death.
Beside the doomed Kal'dorei, a great saber cat stood quietly. It was very thin, but retained a semblance of dignity in its movements. The huntress looked down at the faithful beast that had been instrumental in ending this threat to Ashenvale. She could sense that he was weak from hunger and exhaustion, but otherwise unwounded. The journey down was well beyond what the cat could manage on its own in this state, yet she could not possibly go with it. The huntress gazed sorrowfully at her pet, knowing that he would pay the price along with her, and there was nothing she could do for it to be otherwise.
Or was there? A way to give the beast sustenance enough to reach the warmer altitudes, and let her death be a quick, merciful one?
The huntress slowly made her way to an overhand a short distance away, wincing with every step. Here, the rock formations shielded her from the cold winds. The saber followed its mistress, padding silently in the soft snow. She stopped, looked at the cat for a moment, then started to remove her mail armor, tossing the pieces deeper into the cranny, where perhaps someone would find them useful.. The arrow that pierced her abdomen went in between two links on her belt. Snapping the feathered end off caused tears to spring to her eyes, but at least she was able to removed the mail belt, pants and boots.
She knelt beside the cat, and as only a hunter could do, told him what he had to do, and where the safest path down lay. The saber understood almost immediately, but its consent took a few long moments of persuasion. Once he had indicated his grudging consent, she stood and took off the lightly padded cloth that she wore beneath the mail armor, pain etched on her features. She paused for a moment, then shrugged and removed her undergarments as well. There was no one else about, and it would be one less annoyance to the cat.
The snow was fresh, just fallen where she lay down, trying to ignore the biting cold. Hugging the cat for the last time, the huntress savored the tickle of his fur for the last time with tears in her eyes. She didn't want to die, but neither did the poor victims of the orc's depredations. It was many long moments before she reluctantly lay back down, gave the saber a tiny nod and tilted her head back.
Almost tenderly, the great cat bit into her exposed neck, the sharp teeth slicing cleanly into her throat. Although she had anticipated it, the Kal'dorei's eyes widened slightly. Blood spurted, her lifeblood pulsing from her in gushes, turning the snow a bright red. The dying huntress locked gazes briefly with her saber, a moment of loving, sorrowful farewell passing between them. Too soon, the light of life faded from her eyes and her body shuddered once before going limp.
The saber lifted its head into the wind and gazed at the moon, seemingly offering a mournful tribute to her fallen mistress. As snow settled on the huntress' lifeless body, the cat lowered its bloodied muzzle and began to feed.