I keep forgetting about the obligatory disclaimer, but I'm sure we're all smart enough to know that I don't own Warcraft. I only own the OCs.

Braelyn Hawke hurt everywhere.

There was an intense throbbing where an ice shard had impaled her leg, her neck felt like it was on fire, her hand felt like it was probably broken, and even her eyelashes hurt when they finally flickered open. Her throat burned as she groaned, and it was a while before she remembered all that had happened to her. Tears slid down her cheeks as she began the slow process of standing. She ended up hunched over like a troll as it was just too painful to straighten her spine.

The hunter realised that many hours had passed since the fight as it was now night-time. The moons were full tonight, and the White Lady shone so brightly that Braelyn was able to see just as well as if it had been noon. She swayed slightly as she searched for friends and pets. She couldn't see Growly anywhere and hoped that he had gone to get help or to find safety. She spotted Giggle's prone form lying next to the body of the Orc warrior. She could tell that the owl was dead, and grief welled in her heart. "Oh, Giggle, you poor thing," she croaked. "You didn't deserve this."

Braelyn's eyes drifted quickly past the area where Bitsie lay in a pool of her own blood. She just couldn't deal with the rogue's death now; if she stopped to mourn her friend, she'd never get going again, never leave the Master's Glaive. Instead she tried to move forward, to where she thought Andorien and Odariah were. She could see their weapons lying on the ground, but her friends were nowhere in sight, which gave her hope that they'd survived. With some surprise she noticed the bodies of the three cultists that had attacked her and the death knight lying in a heap near a tree stump. They were cut to pieces, suggesting that the Blood Elf had taken care of them

The death knight, however, was nowhere to be seen. She took a tentative step forward, scanning the area for threats.

"Arrrgh!" she screamed as white-hot agony tore through her left leg. It was so painful that her vision blurred and she fell over, doing further damage to her battered body. Her breath came in sharp, rugged gasps, and she tried to concentrate on evening it out in order to distract herself from the pain. After a few minutes, she dug her fingers into the cold earth and pushed herself upwards.

This time the pain was worse, and it took all her strength to stay conscious. She pushed her sweaty brow on the ground and cried out in frustration. She needed to move, to get help, if she were to make it out alive.

Braelyn was about to make a third attempt, when warm hands grasped her around the waist. She would've screamed, had she the energy. "Shhh," Andorien whispered weakly, "it's just me."

"Andorien?" Braelyn asked, shocked. "Are you real or a hallucination?" She tried to muffle her cries as the druid swung her up into his arms.

Andorien did not look well; dried blood marred his handsome face, and she could see a large lump on the side of his head, no doubt a result of his collision with the boulder. His eyes narrowed in concentration, and his muscles shook with the effort it took to carry Braelyn.

"Painfully real," he replied. "I woke up first, found us some shelter. Odariah's there already... she's still unconscious," he added in obvious distress. "I think I may have passed out again. It seems later than when I found her. Thank Elune it's so light tonight, or else I'd never have found you both, or the cave."

The cave was nestled into the side of a hill, not far from where their latest disastrous battle had taken place. It was small, but it would do. Andorien placed Braelyn on the ground next to her best friend as gently as he could. He paused to catch his breath before he said, "You'll need to huddle together for warmth while I fetch Bitsie... Bitsie's body. I'm not leaving her out there as carrion."

"Be careful," Braelyn said, putting her arms around Odariah. Andorien nodded numbly, then dragged himself out of the cave.

Braelyn looked down at her friend as the priest gave a soft moan. "Andorien?" she asked groggily.

"It's me, 'Riah," Braelyn whispered, too weary to even pat her cousin on the arm.

"Where... An... dorien?"

"He's okay. He went to get Bitsie," Braelyn said, her voice wavering as she mentioned their friend.

"Bit... sie," Odariah sobbed, body shaking, and Braelyn started to cry, too. Neither of them stopped until sleep overcame them.

Braelyn woke up when the first light of dawn finally penetrated the darkness of the cave. Even though she still hurt in more places than she thought her body possessed, she felt slightly better than she had the night before. A quick look at Andorien's gaunt face told her that he had expended some of the last of his strength on healing her and Odariah, who was curled around her boyfriend as if to protect him. She pulled herself upright and put some weight on her injured leg. It still hurt like hell, but she was able to walk, albeit it slowly.

"What are you doing, Braelyn?" Andorien asked, fatigue bleeding from every word, as Braelyn limped over to the bags that the Night Elf must have salvaged the night before. The hunter looked at him, biting her lower lip.

"One of us has to get help," she said, "and you need to stay with Odariah," she added when Andorien began to protest. "I'm the least injured, Andorien. Besides, it was me who got us into this mess in the first place."

"It's not your fault," Andorien mumbled. "It's just how life works." Braelyn said nothing as she attached a water bottle to her belt, not wanting to start a fight. Ever since she'd woken up, she'd been unable to shake the feeling that the misery was not yet over. She was afraid that she was not going to see her friends again, and didn't want their last conversation to be an angry one. She made her way to the cave's entrance, pausing to look back at Andorien and Odariah.

"Hey, guys, listen," she said, "I want you to do something for me."

"What is it?" Odariah asked sleepily, face buried in Andorien's chest.

"Promise me that whatever happens, you won't join the Alliance."

"What sort of request is that?" Odariah demanded. "Why would we join the Alliance after what went down at Warsong?"

"To get revenge," Braelyn replied, "for Bitsie's death or... or something." Seeing her friends swap confused looks, she added, "Please, just do it. For my peace of mind."

"Fine, I promise," Odariah said in a tone of voice that implied Braelyn was crazy, "no soldier's life for me."

"By Elune's grace, I promise that I will honour your wish," Andorien swore. Braelyn nodded, mind eased somewhat.

"I'll be as quick as I can," she said.

"Stay safe, Braelyn," Odariah warned. "Those crazy bastards could still be out there."

Braelyn nodded, and smiled at her cousin briefly, before heading out into the dawn.

It would be a long time before they saw each other again.

Three hours later, Braelyn hadn't made much progress at all. Even with the bit of healing Andorien had given her overnight, she was still very weak and in pain. A dramatic increase in her body temperature, and the rapid onset of chills, indicated that the wound on her leg had become infected. Her head pounded, and she was having to take frequent rests. Each time, it got harder and harder to get moving again.

She wiped a shaking hand across her forehead, grimacing when she felt how hot she was. Her eyes were beginning to ache, and her vision was blurred to the point where she could only just make out the shape of things around her. Fortunately, she had not run into any cultists, or wild animals. Just negotiating the environment was difficult enough, the cataclysm having wrought so much destruction in Darkshore. Trails and paved paths had been split in two, and flat areas of ground were now uneven and treacherous to walk over.

When she had left the cave, she was sure she had been heading back towards the Grove of the Ancients. But now... now she was ashamed to admit that she was lost, the fever and the many detours she'd had to take to avoid the broken terrain combining to leave her disoriented and lost. "Some hunter I am," she muttered. "Look at me, master of my domain!"

Braelyn paused to take a swig from her water skin, grunting in frustration as she discovered it was empty. Damn it! In a fit of piqué, she threw the offending item as far as she could, which in her weakend state wasn't far at all. She was about to start crying again when she realised that the water skin had not landed on grass or dirt. Instead, it sounded as if it had landed on stone. She squinted, and almost laughed when she made out the worn cobbles of a road. With a burst of determination, she hauled herself forward, knowing that where there was a road, there were people. Or, at the very least, signposts.

"Have I been walking in circles?" Braelyn asked herself, leaning against the signpost she was sure she'd passed three times already. Her thirst was maddening and she knew that she was in dire trouble. It was almost impossible for her walk, and she'd taken to crawling in order to achieve any progress. The fever was taking away her ability to think coherently, and her vision was almost totally impaired. She took a deep breath, and ended up coughing so hard she thought she'd punctured a lung. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and before she knew it, she was unconscious again.

When she came to, Braelyn could not move. She knew that she was not paralyzed, just so mentally and physically exhausted that her body just didn't have the energy for movement. Her breathing was short and shallow, and she felt flies crawling all over her skin.

She didn't care.

So this is dying, she mused. She found herself thinking of the times when her father had nursed her back to health when she'd been ill as a child. He had always sung to her, badly out of tune, and made her chicken soup. She longed to feel that comfort again, but at the same time felt an unexpected rush of bitterness at her parents. She hoped that when they got her body back, they felt guilty at what they had done.

Braelyn hummed to herself, some terribly tawdry ditty she'd overheard the Goblins singing in Booty Bay. She was less hot than before, and Braelyn hoped that she was finally on her way out. She was sick of fighting for every breath, sick of feeling a failure for not getting help for her friends. The cold increased and she smiled softly... until she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching.

Braelyn couldn't open her eyes, and was unsure if she wanted to. An hour ago the sound of someone approaching would have made her weep in relief, but now her stomach clenched in fear as she realised that the lessening of her fever had nothing to do with dying, and everything to do with the proximity of a death knight.

"Well, well," a familiar voice drawled, "isn't this a pleasant surprise?" Braelyn winced as she felt the death knight kneel by her body, gauntleted fingers caressing her face. "I thought the Twilight's Hammer had killed you," he added, frowning when Braelyn did not open her eyes.

"Don't you... dare death... grip me again," she whispered. He laughed, the mocking sound grating on her nerves.

"I don't need to," he replied, "death has a pretty tight hold on you already." There was a slight pause before Braelyn felt cold arms slide under her body and lift her up. She cried out us pain racked her body.

How much more do I have to endure?

"Just kill me," she said, too proud, even in her agony, to beg. The death knight ignored her, choosing to tuck Braelyn's head under his chin. His heavy plate armor was even less comfortable than the stone she'd been lying on. He patted her back as if comforting a child, as he let out a sharp whistle. There was a whinny, and Braelyn heard a horse gallop up to them.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart, I'll take care of you," her unwanted rescuer said, as he hefted both himself and Braelyn onto his mount. The mount was just as cold as its owner, and Braelyn realised it was one of those creepy skeleton horses like the Forsaken rode around on. She tried to protet, but with a quick pinch at some nerves on her neck, the death knight knocked her out.

I'm going to end up with permanent brain damage the way this is going, Braelyn thought grogily as she regained consciousness again. The death knight must have found her a healer, because when she came to her senses, she was pain-free and feeling fine, except for a few minor aches and pains, and the mother of all thirsts. She didn't know exactly where she was, but she suspected that she was either in the ruins of Auberdine, or on said village's outskirts. The building was of Night Elven design, but was completely trashed. Part of the roof was missing, the floor was warped and uneven, and she was pretty sure she'd just seen a raging earth elemental float past a crack in the wall.

Not exactly comforting.

She put up with the thirst as long as she could, revelling in the soft warmth of a pile of blankets, not quite ready to face reality. Eventually though, the need to drink became too great, and she slid the blankets off and stood up. Only to dive back under them when she saw she wasn't alone.

"By the Light!" she screamed, staring out at the ghoul that was standing by the wall. To her surprise, it seemed just as alarmed as she was. It pressed itself again the stone, and eyed the doorway longingly.

"Pretty lady don't be screaming at Mangle," it said in low, growly voice. "Mangle only here 'cause Lethallan said to."

"You... your name is Mangle?" Braelyn asked. "And you're a ghoul?"

"Yes, yes, Mangle be ghoul. Mangle be best ghoul."

"Is Lethallan the death knight that kidnapped me?" Mangle frowned, which Braelyn considered bizarre. Wow, the Scourge can feel, she thought.

"Lethallan no kidnap pretty lady, he saved pretty lady. Lethallan best death knight," the ghoul said, indignant and proud all at once.

"I'm sure he is," Braelyn said, eyeing the ghoul warily as it stepped forward.

"Pretty lady want drink? Mangle has water."

"I'd love a drink," Braelyn replied, sitting up and reaching out to take the large mug Mangle held out to her. She almost laughed as the ghoul placed the mug in her hand and then pressed itself back into the wall, almost as if it were scared of her. "My name is Braelyn, by the way," she added before chugging the water down. She had never tasted anything so wonderful before in her life. She was about to ask for more when the door was flung open dramatically.

Braelyn gave a very girly squeak and fell on her arse as Lethallan strode in. He laughed at her reaction. "So, the sleeping beauty awakes," he said. Braelyn glared at him.

"Where am I and what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"You're in Auberdine, Sweetheart," Lethallan said, eyes sparking with glee. "I thought it best to heal you up a bit."

"Why?" Braelyn asked, eye's narrowing in suspicion.

"Well, back at the Glaive, I thought the cultists had killed you, so didn't think much of you after I left," he said dismissively. "Then when I found you out on the road, I couldn't help but admire your fortitude, your stubborn determination to stay alive. So I played the knight-in-shining-armor and saved you." He grinned mockingly. "I figure that if I could be moved to save you, than those noble heroes of the Alliance will fall all over themselves to try to save you from the grasp of a wicked Horde death knight... and I do so love cutting those self-righteous fools down."

Braelyn couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You... you... what? I'm not going to let you d..."

"Of course you are," the death knight said, cold and stern once more. "What choice do you have? You're weaponless, and we all know how useless hunters are without their pets." Brealyn gasped,insulted, but Lethallan ignored her. "Besides, you don't even have any clothes on." He grinned and gestured at her. Braelyn looked down at herself, and blushed furiously with equal parts rage and embarrassment, as she saw she was clad only in her undies. She yanked her blankets up to her chin, and glared at the undead blood elf.

"How dare you?!"

"Calm down, it's nothing I haven't seen before, Sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart," Braelyn grumbled, feeling shame and despair building up inside her. She really wished she could go home, even if it meant being labeled a disgrace.

"Well, what should I call you then?" He demanded. Braelyn opened her mouth to reply, but then slammed her jaws shut. The last thing she needed was this bastard finding out who her parents were. He'd probably use her to force them into a duel, and while she knew her parents were both pretty badass, they had become a little rusty in their retirement. She turned her head to the side and buried it the fold of her blanket.

The death knight scoffed. "Now you decide to quit talking?"

"Mangle knows pretty lady's name," the ghoul suddenly said, quivering with excitement at the idea of being helpful. Braelyn groaned. "Pretty lady called Braelyn, pretty lady said so."

"Is there a surname to go with that?" Braelyn glared at him. "I'll take that as a 'no'. Nevermind, I'll get it out of you eventually. My name is Lethallan Dawnbreaker," he added with a teasing bow, and Braelyn decided that she had liked death knights more when she thought they were all emotionless, soulless bastards. He pointed to a mageweave bag tucked into a corner.

"Get dressed, Braelyn. We'll need to be moving soon."

Braelyn stayed tucked up in her in blankets until she was sure Lethallan and Mangle were gone. She opened the bag to discover a linen cloak, clean underwear, a brush, and a rather pretty blue silk dress. With dismay, she noticed that there were no shoes, and no gloves... nothing Lethallan provided would offer any protection should Braelyn decide to make a run for it.

As she pulled on her new outfit and gathered her light brown hair into a messy bun, Braelyn stewed over her predicament. She decided that she was not going to allow Lethallan to use her to kill more people like he'd murdered Bitsie. She would rather die from hypothermia or being mauled by a bear while running away from him, than be kept safe in his company.

She walked over to where one of the building's windows had been blown out. The wood around it was badly damaged and Braelyn was able to pull a significant part of it away; enough for her to consider making a jump for it. The ground below was strewn with rocks, and elementals were moving around the destroyed village, but Braelyn was determined. Taking a deep breath, she thought fondly of her friends and said a quick prayer before she ran and jumped.

She'd almost hit the ground, when Lethallan death gripped her, and hauled her back inside, laughing as he did so.

Damn death knights.

Lethallan had thought that bringing Braelyn to the Ebon Hold with him was a good idea; unfortunately for him, Darion Mograine did not. Braelyn could hear the two death knights arguing from where she sat huddled in a tight ball, shivering her arse off. She had wrapped her cloak around her body as tightly as she could and tucked her hands and feet inside, her face buried in her knees. Mangle had tried to keep her warm by hugging her, but, seeing as he was undead, it kind of made things worse.

Every few minutes, Braelyn would raise her head to search wildly for an Alliance death knight. She'd only seen one, a dwarf, who'd promptly alerted Highlord Mograine of her presence. She'd not come back, so Braelyn could only assume that the dwarven death knight had been less concerned with the human's well-being, than with being present as her boss tore strips off Lethallan. Every other death knight she'd noticed had been Horde, so Braelyn did her best to avoid their attention.

She heard more shouting, and what sounded like someone being thrown into a wall. A few hours ago, Braelyn would have taken joy in the idea of Lethallan smashing into stone, but a place like Ebon Hold did not encourage feelings of happiness or hope. Within minutes of her arrival at this miserable place, she'd begun to feel whatever emotional strength she had left bleed out of her. Her stubborn belief that she'd get away from the death knight and be reunited with her friends and family fell away, leaving nothing but grief and despair in its wake, and the colder it got, the worse Braelyn felt.

Braelyn snapped out of her stupor as a deafening roar sounded throughout the hold. "I don't care, Dawnbreaker, just take the poor girl home!"

Lethallan stormed out of Mograine's office, stalking over to Braelyn and grabbing her by the arm roughly. "Come with me!" he snarled, dragging her towards what looked like some sort of demonic forge. He was muttering under his breath angrily, even as he concentrated on enchanting his weapon. He was clearly furious at having his game brought to an end so abruptly. Braelyn, lost in her fog of negativity, knew she should be smug about that, but was too exhausted to do do.

She would not have been smug for long anyway; by the time his enchantments were finished, Lethallan had figured out a way to get around Mograine's order. I'll take the poor girl home all right, Darion, he thought. It's just a shame you didn't specify whose home to take her to."

Braelyn felt as if she'd been flung from Winterspring straight into Tanaris. She was freezing cold one moment, the next she was awash with warmth, both physical and emotional. She still felt grieved, and angry, but she was no longer trapped by negative thoughts. Her mind felt clearer, and she was more aware of her surroundings. Which was a problem, as she suddenly realised just how much trouble she was in.

Braelyn looked around at the sea of faces around her; some were curious, others were startled, but most were hostile. Very hostile. "I am going to die," she declared, staring at Lethallan in disbelief. He simply laughed, and spread his arms out wide.

"Welcome to Silvermoon, Sweetheart."

AN - I solemnly swear that Rommath will be in the next chapter. For real this time.

Also, I've made a new drinking game; everytime Braelyn loses consciousness, take a shot. Unless you're underage, in which case, eat a handful of sugar or something.

Next chapter: Rommath Rommath Rommath.