Chapter 26

Veren Redmorning moved back toward the bodyguards, looking at his clan as he went. A few slept now, their long first shift finally over. One or two were engaged in a careful weapons practice, though it was rather desultory in the enclosed space. At the moment, it seemed to be another case of grunts and raiders flirting. Nobody's hit anybody yet. Looks like we're not seeing much in the way of new couples.

As a commander, he was not sorry. As a Chieftain of the clan, he hoped the situation would change. We're a small clan. If we're going to become any larger, we need to start having children, and soon. Hopefully we'll see more Orcs pairing up once we reach the Barrens and find a permanent place to stay.

A child's life might not be easy in the Tattered Banner, but it would be leaps and bounds easier than on Draenor. At least we can provide enough security that most of them will live to grow up here. We may be attacked by the Elves, but we've done fairly well fighting off the wildlife.

He looked up from these thoughts to find Kev'ran standing very stiffly, blinking over and over.

"What happened?"

"Shel'yin was here," Loudwhisper said.

"What did he say?" Veren asked.

The enormous Orc's shoulders shook in a silent laugh, but he did not answer.

"Kev'ran? What happened?"

"Before or after he kissed me?" Kev'ran said.

---

"Forty-five years old? You can't be serious."

The Priestess of the Moon sat on the branch of an Ancient of War, staring down at Arinagh and Androis. The grove that composed the garrison rustled around them as the great trees swayed in a nonexistent breeze. The Elves went about their business on swift and silent feet.

One or two stopped to greet Arinagh. Not all were fellow druids. He had lived with the garrison a long time.

"I'm afraid I am quite serious, Mistress Fallingrain," Arinagh said. "She had no reason to lie."

"She must have, at the beginning," Androis Darkiron said beside him. "The Leafdancers would never allow such a child to begin the training."

"She is no child," Arinagh said. He shook his heavy shoulders. The cold could not reach through his cloak. He felt as if it had. It was hard to read Androis through her mask, but her bent shoulders suggested she felt the same.

"There is another possible explanation." Priestess Fallingrain dropped from the branch and landed easily on the snowy ground, her robes sweeping around her. She was young, for a full Priestess, but her long hair was already white.

"I observed her very closely while she guarded me," Arinagh said. "I don't believe she is mortal. I suspect she was simply never given time to be a child."

"If she is indeed Fellwind's daughter, it must be so," Warden Darkiron said.

"I must rely on your counsel in this," Fallingrain said. "I did not encounter the demon hunter before his death in Fellwood."

"He was mad," Darkiron said. "I believe the girl is mad also."

"I'm not sure mad is the right word," Arinagh said. "Her thinking is… Animal, perhaps. She has no fear, because she has no imagination. She does not feel deeply, or for long. She knows no pity. But neither does she know what it is to be cruel."

"Animals feel," Fallingrain said. "A druid of the claw surely knows this."

"Yes," Arinagh said. "But they are different. If you kill one of a pair of rabbits, the other will stand by the body until it is hungry. Then it will go away and forget. Fellwind's daughter has understanding, but it is elemental. It is not Elven."

"It would explain why she couldn't be made to obey the rules," Fallingrain said. "Of course, if this is true, she could never have been a Sentinel. Even if I was not forced to do what I have done. I wonder if she knows that she has killed all but one of those who sentenced her?"

Arinagh watched the Priestess as her hand strayed unintentionally to her belt knife. Yes. Some of the marks on her body are yours. You would not suffer others to bloody their hands while you stood back. Were it otherwise, I would not serve you.

"She is dangerous, Mistress," Androis Darkiron said softly. "She is already a deadly fighter now. Imagine what she will be, if she lives to be five hundred."

Fallingrain folded her arms as she calculated. "Yes. But that is doubtful, where the Orcs are going. Even if they survive the long journey – and there are many satyrs between here and there - the Barrens are full of enemies."

"Then you do not plan to follow them," Arinagh said. Both women looked at him, startled at his evident relief.

"No," Fallingrain said. "I was foolish to send Bhenedar's unit after them the second time. I should have gone myself. Now he and Lightsweeper are both dead, and you two are the highest surviving of my lieutenants. We do not have enough troops to divide, and I would rather not have to ask for reinforcements from the Moonglade before Spring."

"By your leave, Mistress, they should at least be followed," Androis said.

"I agree," Arinagh said. "It would be as well to know for certain that they are leaving. I am convinced of it myself, but if possible we should be sure."

"That is good advice," Fallingrain said. "See that it is done."

---

Soon after the sunrise, the Tattered Banner was on the move. The gray flag swung slowly in the thin, cold breeze as the caravan crept along through the woods. The Orcs were refreshed by the rest they had taken, but the column still had to move at the pace of those pulling the travois which held the buildings and supplies. There were not enough riderless wolves to pull them all, and some were dragged along by the largest and strongest of the peons.

Veren Redmorning walked at the center of the column with his guards. Kerd Bladeleaper scouted ahead with a few chosen raiders, and Lev Darksun came behind, protecting the caravan's vulnerable back.

Glaive moved up and down the column's length, seemingly at random. She seemed none the worse for the previous day's events, and if she was still tired, there was no sign of it. Shadebreaker followed wherever she went: less graceful in his new flesh, but grimly determined to keep up. Sometimes she diverted into the wood, and then he stayed with the column.

Veren Redmorning, watching from the corner of one eye, saw him go up and down the column while Glaive was out of sight. Somehow, he always seemed to know where she would reappear, though they almost never spoke.

Shel'yin traveled with the warlocks. The spellcasters walked in a loose group around Veren, staying within the cordon of grunts and raiders. Redmorning was pleased to note the occasional glances Shel'yin and Kev'ran were exchanging today.

He might have been a little envious, as well.

It's not for you, he told himself. It never has been. You have too much work to do. Besides, he thought wryly. What Orc in her right mind would have me, even if I do live out the year? Loudwhisper is stronger, Shel'yin knows more, and Kerd and Lev are both better fighters. Whatever mysterious quality of chieftainship they all seem to be seeing is probably entirely imaginary, and sooner or later they're bound to realize it.

At close to midday, when the pale sun was high, Shadebreaker's wanderings brought him up beside Dib Loudwhisper. Veren took a couple of quick steps so he could see around his bodyguard.

"I see Nev gave you your new clothes," he said.

"Yes. You were right about the mail," Shadebreaker said. "I had forgotten how easily flesh is torn. Thank you."

"You're part of the clan," Redmorning said. "You're welcome to what we can give you in the way of food, clothing and shelter. You've certainly earned it so far."

"It is my honor to - "

Shadebreaker broke off abruptly. His hooded head swung toward the woods. "Excuse me, Chieftain." He stepped between two grunts and vanished into the trees.

Redmorning looked after him.

"I wonder what Glaive is doing right now," he said.