Obligatory "I don't own"-statement.

Chasing Through Hell

Fixing Moods

"You look like you ran afoul of a starving lynx," Wiven greeted. His hands hovered over the top of an open barrel, glowing with pale blue light. Water continuously coalesced in the air beneath his palms, forming into thumb sized spheres before falling into the barrel.

Maurus gave him a flat look and glanced around the campsite. About half of Payta's unit was there, most clustered around small cooking fires or sitting just outside their tents. Quite a few of them were examining armor or weapons that looked considerably worse for wear, though just as many seemed to relax with drink, food or a spot of gambling. A sharp, spicy aroma, reminding Maurus of scorpion, rose from the four-limbed, spiky, chitin-covered thing hanging over the flames of the nearest fire, though the pleasant smell was almost drowned out by the stink of charred hide from the burned down tents further north and the pyres in the distance.

It was a small mercy that their tents were so far from where the fires had begun.

"Unless it isn't yours?" Wiven asked hopefully as Maurus dropped down beside him and laid the tattered cloak he carried onto his right knee.

"It is," answered bluntly, leaning back to put down his shield inside his tent before tugging his backpack out with his now free hand. He began rummaging through it.

Wiven made a thoughtful sound and glanced at the two nearby orcs, who were both stitching up ugly, though pretty harmless wounds. "Lucky. It didn't sound like the fel orcs or demons even could cut so shallowly."

"Face-full of bugs," Maurus grumled, pulling a clean rag from his pack. Wiven raised a slender eyebrow in the exact same way Arianna did sometimes. "Magic," he added simply. "A little water?"

Wiven grabbed one of the rough clay cups on the ground and dipped it deeply in the barrel before passing it to Maurus.

He wet the cloth and ran it over his face, sighing. In the hot air, the lukewarm water felt cool and refreshing and the feeling of the crusted blood dissolving and running off his fur was almost as much a relief as when the insect bites had been healed.

"Did you get lost?"

Maurus paused with the cloth still in the now crimson water of the cup. He tilted his head in question.

"The others came back more than an hour ago," Wiven elaborated, nodding at the other people in the camp. "You three didn't. What kept you?"

Maurus didn't answer. He'd been far too openmouthed already and the thought made him feel even more tired than he already was.

It had taken less effort to find a healer among the grunts than to get the orc to help. Even with the promise of silver, it had been a grudging healing, though the orc had put more effort into it after he found Maurus' chest injury, which hadn't taken all the action well. That discovery had also stopped his mutterings about Maurus deserving a whipping for threatening the truce.

At least the goblins had backed up Maurus' and Arianna's story, at least as far as what had occurred in the exploding tent. That had turned most of the grunts' glares toward the Alliance camp and with that implicit permission, Arianna had left without a word.

Why they hadn't stopped Mathias when he'd stormed off, Maurus didn't know, though maybe he'd seemed too much of a hassle when they'd still had two of three troublemakers.

Maurus had been stuck with the surly shaman, watching a few of the goblins angrily demand justice of grunts that looked torn between annoyance and growing agreement with their fury.

There had been no sigh of Vel'Zarul and he'd had to accept that he was most likely lost to them for now, a thought that still made him grind his teeth.

The slow healing had given him time to think and that had probably helped when he'd sought out the sergeant's superior and along with a goblin named Crangle, managed to convince him to give him a letter backing his story. His tour of the animal pens would have been a failure without it, considering he was a nobody wanderer.

He looked at the bloody rag in his hand and realized with a glimmer of amusement why some of those he'd passed had looked at him so oddly. He sighed.

"We visited the goblins. Found some healers."

"At the goblins'?" Wiven said skeptically. "Not many healers there I suspect."

Maurus turned to Wiven and rolled his eyes. "The three things, in that order."

Wiven's expression turned sly. "Know anything about the explosion?"

Maurus didn't miss the way several of the closer orcs and trolls shifted slightly, all in ways that turned an ear towards him. He frowned a little. Word always spread fast and gossip was one of the things that made the days in camp less boring, but he wasn't interested in being the center of attention.

"It's a goblin camp," Maurus said slowly, as if speaking to someone stupid.

Wiven gave him a slow nod that seemed a equally patient and condescending, clearly not impressed with Maurus' deflection. Truth be told, goblins didn't catastrophically blow up their own homes and workshops nearly as often as people generally implied and Wiven knew it.

"I saw a blown-up tent," Maurus said. "Some shredded tents too. Not sure what exactly exploded. Some dead."

Wiven nodded placidly and turned his gaze back to the barrel. In a much lower, but still careless tone of voice, he added: "Was it a simple misfire?"

Maurus snorted and put down the rag and cup.

"No. Sabotage," he said quietly. That much could hardly hurt and he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to be secretive about Vel'Zarul. As much as he wanted to wring the demon's neck himself, the dead goblins were proof in favor of spreading the word so people could be more on guard. Though mentioning shapeshifting might just lead to deaths due to fear instead.

Having to even consider that made him long for the simplicity of battling centaurs and stalking prey. Those were simple. The thought of hunting made him look down at the cloak on his knee. He could be imagining it, but he thought there was a smell on it, something similar, yet different, sharper and denser than the acrid stench in the air. The beasts had certainly reacted to it.

"Traitors," Wiven said, spitting in disgust and dragging Maurus' attention back to the conversation. One of the drops forming under his palms turned to steam with a hiss. "They'll all burn in the end."

Maurus snorted, but smiled as he began taking off his armor. "I hope you're right.

Some of the darkness in Wiven's face melted away and he smiled. "I am."

"Such conviction," Maurus said, though he felt heartened by Wiven's certainty.

"Where did you leave Arianna and the ghoul?" Wiven asked.

Maurus' fingers halted in the process of loosening one of the straps holding his shoulderplates in place. "Mathias," he said, emphasizing the word. He realized he had no idea where he was, and shrugged. "No clue," he muttered. "Arianna? Warlock business, I guess."

Wiven's eyes flicked to Maurus and his lips curled into a smirk. "Alone? That's unusual."

Maurus looked away from him, glancing around the camp again, shrugging and ignoring the irritation the comment sparked in him. "Not really," he said, the pleasure at removing the weight of his shoulderplates preventing the words from coming out in a grumble.

His eyes again fell on the thing roasting over the nearby fire and his stomach rumbled. He was starving after the battle and the multiple healing sessions he'd endured. With a mental sigh, he took out some of his old, stale food and as he bit into the dry meat, he promised himself he would get out and catch one of those things as soon as possible.

Wiven opened his mouth, but Maurus interrupted him, talking around a mouthful of food: "Have you really been here since we left you?"

The question surprised Wiven, who paused for a moment before answering. "After they used most of the barrels to fight the fires over there," he said, waving a hand vaguely north as his mouth set into an irritated line, "I had to start over with this one."

Then he breathed deeply and the smile returned, even a little giddy and the glow around his hands brightened.

"How did you mess up?"

Maurus resisted the urge to jerk around to look at Wiven. "Mess up?" he asked, voice flat, from irritation aimed at both Wiven and the events of the day.

"Yes," Wiven prompted blithely.

Maurus took a deep breath, not sure how or if he wanted to answer, before he thought of something.

"Got careless," he grumbled truthfully. "Shouldn't have gotten hurt like that."

Out the corner of his eye, he caught Wiven look at him, then shrug.

"True. We can't have you getting incapacitated so that the nasty redskins can get to the squishy elf you're shielding."

Maurus ripped off a chunk of the meat with more force than necessary. He was too tired for Wiven's lazy, pointed prying.

"By the looks of it, you need a helmet."

Maurus ran a hand over his cheek and chuckled at the last, more manageable comment. "Can't argue with that."

"Arianna's and Mathias' faces, streaked with blood, flashed across his inner eye and he added: " We all do."

"Did they run afoul of the bugs too?" Wiven asked.

Maurus glimpsed golden hair to the left and turned his head.

"Ask her yourself," he said as Arianna came into the camp, Ash loping in behind her and drawing a few dark looks. Maurus doubted most people could see it, but her steps were just a bit more violent than they used to be and her hips swayed less as she walked, making her movements much less languid and betraying her irritation. Despite her apparent displeasure, Maurus smiled. Her face was unblemished by blood or wounds, though there were some small grooves where there the bugs had dug particularly deep, still a little redder than the rest of her face. The strands of hair framing her face were clean and her ponytail had been redone, so her hair looked less wild than it had before.

'Almost a shame,' Maurus thought.

"Good evening," Arianna said.

As Wiven cheerfully returned the greeting, Maurus gaze moved from Arianna's face to the eerie, alien sky, which hadn't changed since he'd first seen it, and back to her face. It didn't seem like night was approaching and she didn't sound like she honestly thought it good.

"Welcome back," Maurus said softly. He waved a hand at the ground beside him. "Please sit. You look exhausted."

Arianna stopped, a little suddenly, before taking a slow breath that seemed to force some of the tension from her body. Then she lowered herself to the ground in a smooth motion and crossed her legs, laying her staff beside her. Ash lay down on her other side, putting his head in her lap.

"The lack of blood is an improvement though," Maurus mused. Arianna closed her eyes and exhaled slowly and Maurus added sympathetically: "Were they that bad?"

"They quite correctly pointed out that we can't afford clashes with the Alliance," she said, so quietly that Maurus had to strain to hear her. The crackling fire a few feet away probably made it impossible for the nearby orcs to hear her. She looked at him, narrowed eyes bright with fel fire. "Your loud antics did us no favors."

A heavy mix of anger and shame settled in Maurus' stomach. He opened his mouth to argue, but Arianna spoke before he figured out what to say: "They also wanted the horn, now that the threat he poses has been confirmed."

Maurus snorted angrily. "You didn't give it to them?"

"No," she said irritably. "They didn't insist, seeing as he was out west again by the time the meeting ended."

Maurus spat out a curse at the confirmation that their own grunts and the Alliance had let the dreadlord escape.

"But they do make a good case," Arianna added, tiredness displacing the irritation in her voice. "The horn and the felhounds that have his scent are our only defenses against him. But we don't have enough hounds for everything important and many don't want them as guard dogs."

Maurus' hand closed around the cloak on his knee and a smirk curled his lips.

"You're too focused on magic."

Arianna raised an eyebrow in silent question and he added, raising the cloak: "Worgs, raptors, kodos. We have plenty of sharp noses here."

Arianna was silent as her eyes traced the ragged outline of the dirty garment. Her gaze finally met Maurus' and he savored the brief moment where realization entered her eyes. Her mouth formed into a sly smile to match Maurus' widening one.

"It seems we do blind ourselves to the more mundane solutions," she said, her voice turning smooth and pleased. Her warm, thin fingers brushed over Maurus large thumb as she grabbed the cloak and pulled it closer. She smelled it cautiously and wrinkled her nose. "Certainly unique. Are you sure it will work?"

"Our animals are very clever. Smart enough to communicate the scent, ask any breeder or hunter," Maurus answered. "In a day or two, any animal in camp will know recognize him."

"It seems there is a place you have us beat," Arianna mused, her tone and smirk taking the bite out of the backhanded insult. She laid the cloak back on his knee and he couldn't help but notice the warmth of her hand through the garment.

"Good to see your little spat is over."

Maurus blinked. He'd almost forgotten Wiven. Realizing he'd leaned toward Arianna a little, he shifted to lean back on his hands instead and turned his head to Wiven.

'Odd choice of words,' Maurus thought, though Wiven's words were only part of the reason for the confusion he felt appearing on his face.

"I'm still not exactly thrilled with his actions," Arianna said, words curter than they had been a just moments earlier.

"And what were those?" Wiven asked airily, voice louder than either of theirs had been. "You are both being awfully circumspect."

Maurus glanced at Arianna, catching a quick tensing of her jaw. This time, at least, it hadn't just been him running his mouth. They were too tired.

"I don't think you'll have trouble figuring it out," he said, getting an exaggerated scoff from Wiven. He turned to Arianna and added: "Maybe we should tell the unit. We're probably more at risk now."

"I need to discuss it with the others," Arianna said. "They do have the right of it concerning the horn. I can't search in my sleep and that is a large window."

"This'll be a lot harder now," Maurus admitted, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face, feeling like his body was twice as heavy as it usually was. "He might even-"

He trailed off and opened his eyes before starting again. "He might try to use it against us, but that goes both ways."

"Optimistic," Arianna said. She made a little snort. "Good."

Already feeling a little lighter, Maurus nodded decisively. "We just need to be ready."

His eyes found the dents on Arianna's left cheek. "We need some headgear for one."

Arianna brought a hand to her face, tracing the marks there and Maurus thought he saw a hint of dismay in her expression, but it was gone so fast that he wasn't sure. Deciding not to let his gaze linger on her face, he looked down at Ash.

The memory of how Ash had been useless in the tent came back to him.

"If we give it up, we need to be sure Ash is on our side."

Arianna gave him a hard look. "What do you mean?" she asked, tone deceptively neutral.

"He was useless back there. Can he be trusted to track and guard us?"

Arianna was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, before she stroked a hand across Ash' head and neck with a gentleness that was at complete odds with the ice in her voice: "He'll do better."

"You seem to have your work cut out for you," Wiven said, carelessly cutting through the tension. "Of course, it might be that I could help if you let me in on it. I would appreciate it, now that I know I'm exposed for associating with you."

"We're not marked for death," Maurus said. "Just watch out for anything odd or anyone acting suspicious. Pretend you're in Ratchet."

He looked at Wiven. Behind the lazy, uncaring expression he could see a hint of frustration.

"I doubt you're in much more danger anyway. Water boys are probably on the list anyway. It's hard to fight when you're dying of thirst."

Wiven snorted. "Very reassuring. Thank you."

Arianna chuckled and Maurus cocked his head at her.

"You're in no position to call him boy," she said good-naturedly. "He's the oldest person in the unit.

Maurus raised his eyebrows and looked at Wiven. His fine features were reminiscent of the young humans Maurus had seen from time to time in Ratchet, more similar to the women than the men, and not a single wrinkle or blemish marred his face except for the scar that went from his right, high cheekbone to just past his lower lip. His limbs were thin, but not in the wasted way that often came with old age and Maurus knew his movements were almost as smooth as Arianna's.

He looked across the camp at the pair of shamans. The tauren's fur was turning patchy and had long since become dry and brittle, though he still showed proud strength. The orc was bent with age, had skin that was mottled and wrinkled and his hair was a dull grey, but he didn't look weaker than the rest of the camp.

That was a shock. He knew elves were long-lived, but he'd never really thought about it and for some reason, the revelation bothered him as he turned back to the two elves, catching a slight crease vanish from Arianna's forehead.

To push the thought from his mind, he said: "You might be better off. Ash has been a very good guard dog and he knows the enemy."

In fact, except for the confrontation with the dreadlord, Ash had been as well-behaved as any well-trained hound, only showing aggression to threats and demons. Maurus frowned. Except for when they'd just passed through the Portal.

Wiven said something, but Maurus ignored it and smacked a hand to his forehead, letting out a growl as he remembered the orc they'd passed that very morning. They'd seen the same face pressed down onto the execution block just hours later.

"What is it?" Arianna asked, frowning at Maurus.

Anger mixed with nausea in his stomach as he recalled the rush he'd felt as he saw the axe fall on what he was now sure was an innocent orc.

"We saw Zarul this morning. Ash smelled him." he said harshly, the name slipping out. "That was why the orc under the axe was familiar."

Arianna's eyes widened slightly as she followed his logic. She spat a harsh string of Eredun and dark magic curled around her right hand before she collected herself and banished it again.

Wiven looked lost, but Maurus could see him turning things over in his head. It wouldn't surprise him if he figured it out.

He felt a hand on his knee and looked down on Arianna's slim fingers.

"We can't change the past," she said grimly. "The orc and the goblins are merely more lives he must pay for. Remember the fallen. Make him pay in blood."

"Remember the fallen," Wiven echoed, as Maurus swallowed and nodded.

"If I get my way, he dies screaming," he said darkly, though his mood had improved slightly. He closed his massive hand over Arianna's and squeezed it once. She turned her hand over and brushed a thumb along his, brightening his mood further.

"Fire ensures that," Wiven said. His voice was still light, but his smile was cruel. It reminded Maurus vaguely of Mathias. "So you should let me help."

"We'll," Maurus began, lifting his hand and interrupting himself with a yawn. "I need sleep," he muttered. "We'll fill you in tomorrow. I think we'll have peace that long at least."

He glanced at Arianna and when she didn't protest, he pushed his belongings back into his tent. He yawned again and wished them good night before crawling into his cramped little tent and collapsing bonelessly.

He looked down into the darkness. The light played over the water as ripples spread across it in gentle waves, expanding until they hit the black stone edges, then shrinking again, disrupting the other waves as they spread in turn. He watched the waves slow and shrink, his throat constricting and his heart sinking as the water stilled into mirror-like smoothness, reflecting three grim faces. The one in the middle was white and ghost-like, with short braids hanging from behind two forward-facing horns and a thick, silver ring in the large nose. The faces to the left and right were black as coal, with thick horns that stuck out straight to either side and both their hair and beards were set in elaborate braids. Dull orange flickered in the sky above them.

Swallowing, he looked up from the well, his head feeling heavy and his movements sluggish. He whirled around and stumbled down the hill, his heavy hooves making it hard not to trip over the boulders and the wrecks of cogs, gears and drills. Fire played in the burrows and ramshackle houses around him and the trees writhed in the light like gaunt specters. The air stank like festering wounds and oozing boils and the flames sounded like the moaning of reedy voices.

Desperately, he pressed on, his heart pounding in his chest, feeling the cliffs close in around him, closing above him. The gate ahead blocked the river from view, but the sound of the rushing water was beginning to overpower the accusing moans on the air and he knew the river was clean, free from corruption and pollution despite its location.

A dull pain lanced up his leg and he looked down to see the rusty, round sawblade, splitting his hoof up to his ankle. He staggered, but regained his balance, eyes returning to the wooden gate ahead, only to fall when he felt something blunt hurtle into his other leg.

As he fell, he glanced back and saw a small, green face, nose crooked and covered with crater like scars, eyes bright with hate.

"Run, hero," hissed the goblin.

He hit the ground without feeling the pain, scrambling forward mindlessly, away from cliffs and the moans and the sour stench behind him, despite knowing he was alone again.

Then he felt warm hands grip his and raise him to his hooves. He found himself standing right in front of the gate, Arianna's hands beneath his, her bright green eyes staring into his. She smiled at him, cocking her head so the flickering shadow of her curled horns fell across her face.

A shrieking appeared just at the edge of hearing, a sound he could just barely make out against the screams, the feeble moans and the rush of water, but he ignored it, mesmerized by Arianna's gaze.

She flicked her tail, making a sound like a cracking whip, and it made him lower his gaze, feeling warm as he let his eyes wander down her slender neck, across her modest chest, to her hips and long, bare legs.

The shrieking grew to a gibbering howling. Five points of dim pain pierced into both his arms and he raised his gaze, running it over black armor, pale skin, up and up, to the cold green eyes that looked down at him with cruel amusement. The dreadlord tossed him back, his long sharp claws drawing lines of weak pain along his arms and spread his arms dramatically, drawing the gaze to the man and the woman hanging from the gate behind him. They were suspended by ropes tied around their hands, faces obscured by golden and straw-colored hair, naked but for the blood from the symbols carved into their flesh.

As Maurus fought helplessly to stand back up the dreadlord opened his mouth and said a single word. Arianna and Mathias threw their heads back, eyes and mouth opening wide as their bodies went rigid, every muscle taut against their maimed skin. With startling speed, the runes flared up and light blazed from their eyes and mouths. For a long moment, the yellow fire burned its way out from within Mathias while green flame struggled to escape Arianna. Then the fires went out, like a snuffed candle and the two went limp.

Maurus was frozen. His heart had stopped, his eyes blurred, and he was choking as saw the fiery rocks fall from the sky, crashing into the gate and tearing it apart in a green-white explosion that drew up and formed into towering infernals.

Cackling demons, roaring monsters, nightmares, came hurtling toward him across the hills behind the dreadlord. Despite knowing his doom was approaching, Maurus turned, feeling no control over his own body. With the demons at his back, he looked across red plains, past the Stonetalon Mountains, to the green grass of Mulgore and saw the flame roll forward, feeling like everything was closing in around him.

"All shall burn," said the familiar, deep voice, as a large, cold, taloned hand closed around his throat with savage strength.

Maurus woke with a start and for a confused moment he panicked at the sight of the dark, enclosed space he found himself in. Then he brushed against the edge of the tent and realized where he was, though his heart kept hammering in his chest. He hurriedly turned around, crawling out of the darkness and out into the camp.

The noise outside was far more subdued than it had been when he went to sleep but it was still loud and Maurus was thankful for the buzz of thousands of people, the crackle of hundreds of fires and the snatches of shouting and singing. It pushed him fully awake and revealed the dark vision that still lingered in his head for just what it was; a nightmare.

After taking a moment to orient himself, his eyes darted to Mathias' and Arianna's tents and some of the cold in his body melted at the sight of Ash, seemingly snoring, at the entrance to Arianna's tent and even more vanished as he saw Mathias sitting by his tent. He had removed most of his armor, now just wearing a ragged mishmash of cloth and leather and he looked smaller without it. In his pale, gloveless hands, he cradled a simple, steel helmet, its smooth and untarnished surface a stark contrast to the scarred and battered armor lying in a heap beside him. His head was bowed toward it, but his eyes were on Maurus.

Maurus found himself breathing a little easier, though the dread still clung him like a shroud, a thin layer between him and the rest of the world.

"You look rattled," Mathias said. His voice was as empty of emotion as his face. "Conscience plaguing you?"

Maurus felt a shiver go down his spine at Mathias' choice of words. He swallowed thickly and wiped his eyes, finding that his hand came away wet. Instead of looking at Mathias, he let his gaze wander. The camp was seemingly empty, though the snores told him where most people were. The two elderly shamans were awake, tossing bones, though by their slurred speech, nothing important would come of it. There were guards at the wider path into the middle of the camp and he spotted Payta at the entrance to her tent, some distance away, talking to a troll Maurus knew wasn't part of the unit. The normalcy was reassuring, but his dark dream remained a looming shadow in his thoughts.

"Nightmare," Maurus muttered finally, turning back and meeting Mathias' gaze. For a moment he remembered the deep, oozing wounds in the nightmare and he blinked to rid himself of the vision. Mathias fully turned his head to him.

"That's new," he said sarcastically. His voice filled with scorn as he continued: "Awake or asleep, you're at the mercy of your moods."

Maurus clenched a fist and glared at Mathias, his rising anger beginning to displace the lingering unease from his dream. "You're hardly as cold as you'd expect of a corpse," he growled, taking a step forward to loom over Mathias. "I saw the grunts holding you back."

Without looking away from Maurus, Mathias put down the helmet and rose to his feet. "But I know when to keep my-"

Maurus cut him off: "You'd have gutted yourself on the footmens' swords if the grunts hadn't stopped you. Will that help us catch Zarul?"

Mathias' milky eyes, glowing with the faintest yellow light, bored into Maurus'. He was deadly still, but rigid muscles stood out against his dry skin and his hands were half-curled, ready to lash out with the sharp, bony tips of his fingers.

He opened his mouth, baring his teeth and then abruptly deflated, shoulders slumping, arms going limp. "Now he knows," he hissed, breaking from Maurus' gaze. There was a note of misery in his voice. "How will we catch him when he knows we're chasing him?"

The anger in Maurus' chest dimmed and he felt his own muscles loosening.

"Did you talk with Arianna?" he asked brusquely.

"No."

Maurus briefly relayed the conversation he'd had with the blood elves. As he did, calm settled over him, though he still couldn't push away a small bit of irritation that remained aimed at Mathias.

Mathias changed from gloomy to sullen when he mentioned the cloak.

"Not sure I like the idea using the animals. Zarul might just run if he can't come back into camp," he said. "Light, he might run anyway."

Maurus shook his head. "We can't allow him to cause more death," he said seriously. Mathias' jaw clenched, but after a few moments, he gave a grudging nod.

"Remember the dreadlords' arrogance," Maurus added, trying to soothe his friend. "He doesn't really know what we have. The animals might even throw him off."

He could see in Mathias' face how skepticism fought with the desire to believe what he said.

"And in the end, it doesn't matter," Maurus said. He put a hand on Mathias' shoulder. "We will catch him."

The conviction returned to Mathias' eyes and he finally regained some of his usual smile and Maurus smiled at the sight.

He glanced down at the helm. It was simple piece, with thin slits for the eyes, a solid nose guard and a thin opening down the middle. For a moment, he wondered if that would be any use against Ven'Zarul's magic bugs and thought of the goggles he'd seen in the goblin camp. Then he considered going into battle with glass strapped to his eyes and winced.

"You think your smith can make me something too?"

Mathias shrugged. "Maybe. Your muzzle might give him some trouble."

"If he's any good, he'll manage," Maurus said. His eyes wandered to Arianna's tent.

"Thinking of a present for the long-ear?"

Maurus turned back to Mathias, whose smile had turned crooked. He licked his lower lip and flicked an ear that felt warm.

"She's little help if she's blinded," he said, voice carefully casual, at odds with the little uncomfortable flutter in his stomach that Mathias' words provoked. "I owe her for the shield."

Mathias snorted lightly. "Of course."

Maurus scratched his chin, not really sure how to respond. Out the corner of his eye, he saw something green and red approach and he felt somewhat grateful for the distraction as he turned to the approaching orc. He was vaguely familiar, but Maurus couldn't place the bushy beard and the long topknot.

"Maurus?" the orc asked.

Slightly uneasy, Maurus nodded, deciding the grunt was probably from the Path of Glory. He wasn't that surprised that he had guessed who he was. There weren't that many white tauren. But worry prickled along his neck about why he would seek him out.

"Dokun wants your money today," he said. Mathias tilted his head at Maurus.

"Healer," Maurus said to Mathias, before asking: "Morning already?"

The orc nodded. "Also, the goblins wants to speak to you."

"Why?" Maurus asked, a squirming feeling in his stomach. 'No, he told himself, 'there's no reason to worry.'

The orc shrugged. "Didn't say. Just tossed me some coppers for passing the message." He gave Maurus a glance that told him his unease hadn't gone unnoticed. "I think you should focus on Dokun. Getting that debt out of the way would be wise."

With that the orc nodded and left.

Maurus looked up at the sky, seeing it looking much the same as it had when he went to sleep. It unsettled him slightly, not being able to tell the time from the sky, something that only added to the ever present unease of Draenor. And now the goblins wanted him again.

He looked at Mathias. "No lazing around today."

Mathias nodded. "Good."

Man, seems an average of every two weeks is the best I can manage so far. But I'll keep working on it.

I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with this, but I thin it went alright in the end. Though there might be some missed mistakes, because the online spellcheck doesn't seem to work, so anything Word didn't catch will still be there. Let me know what you think.

By the way, I changed a few lines in the very end of the previous chapter. It shouldn't be a problem, but if you wonder about when he got the cloak, it is mentioned there.

Next chapter should pick up in the action department. And some more emotion.

Also, exams are coming up now, real exams, so I might not be able to write as much, but I will try, because I really wanna write the next chapter. We'll see how exhausted I am. Cheers.