Authors note: Long time no write. I got a sudden second wind for this one. The other night I had this wicked vivid dream that helped me complete the outline entirely with enough left over for a possible second. No promises. No beta. I had to edit this on my own.

Chapter 5

The commotion coming from the kennels adjacent to the stables was alarming. Bran peaked curiously inside and noted Rorick's hound trying to chew the door off of his cage. When the animal saw Bran he howled and worked furiously at the door clasp.

Bran turned on his heel and sprinted for the prison. A hunter's companion knew when it's handler was in trouble and that could only mean one of two things. The bloodelf had fooled them with her innocent act and slit his throat or...

Gaeb.

Wind strung Bran's dark hair across his eyes and onto the corners of his mouth. He paled as he descended the stairs in a few leaps. The main guard at the bottom was splayed across the stone, his own blood slowly seeping from a gash on his head. Once at the door of the last cell, Bran roared in fury at the sight. Rorick was sitting limp at his post with his head lulling back and forth as he fought whatever he had been drugged with. Gaeb was inside the cell smirking in satisfaction with his trousers barely up his thighs. Kye was balled up in a corner, shivering with a deathly pallor and wide eyes staring off into nothing.

In one swift move, Bran tore the door from it's hinges and gave into the worgen. He felt his eyes fade and a burning fire sensation sweep over him leaving a dark towering biped wolf behind.

"Let's do this," Gaeb snapped, following suit and lunging fiercely. Bran gave into the weight and rolled backwards while swiping with his claws. The blow struck true and Gaeb's face was now mirrored on both sides with a wound, one fresh and the other healed and puckered.

Bran had the dagger from his side out when Gaeb snatched his wrist and fought the momentum while snapping wildly with his jaws at Bran's neck. Frantic, Bran struggled as his arm with the blade was forced to the floor. Gaeb was too strong and held the upper-hand when it came to brute force. Bran excelled in catching the enemy off guard and taking them out before they knew he was there. He was outmatched by at least fifty extra pounds holding him down and with one hand already attempting to keep the teeth from his face, he doubted this would go in his favor.

"Run! Get out of here!" Bran growled out at Kye, his voice sounding more akin to gravel than it's usual smooth baritone. She made no move to acknowledge him and he knew then that she was in a state of shock.

The blinding white pain that assaulted Bran's shoulder where Gaeb had buried the rogue's second dagger to the hilt in the moment of distraction brought him back to the fight.

"I'm going to enjoy this. You've always been weak," Gaeb laughed and made an iron clad fist around Bran's neck. The squeeze that followed was crushing and prevented any oxygen from entering the lungs.

I'm going to die at the hands of my own insane friend, Bran thought and made useless kicks with his legs to try and free himself. A shot rang out and echoed off the walls in the close quarters of the room. A neat black hole tunneled in the center of Gaeb's forehead and he crumpled in a dead heap. Bran tilted his head back to see Rorick lowering his smoking sidearm, blinking away the drowsy fog.

"That bastard poisoned me," Rorick stated in disbelief.

Bran pushed Gaeb's body from him and pulled the dagger from his shoulder. Panting, he rolled and stood. This was bad. It would look bad to anyone and there were no witnesses to corroborate their innocense and actions of self defense. They had killed one of their own for the life of the enemy.

"We need to leave. Now." He entered the cell and pulled Kye to her feet. She screamed and flailed against Bran and he refused to let go. He pulled her into an embrace and shushed her. Kye stared at him for what felt like hours before clinging to him. Bran covered her with the outer coat of his uniform and scooped her up.

"What are you doing?! We can't take her!" Rorick shouted and stumbled against the far wall.

"Do you see what this all looks like?! We will not get a trial. We will be put to death for this along with her. Now move!" Bran tore from the room, sprinting as fast as he could. The shot would have been heard and guards would be coming. They had a few minutes at best before Gaeb's body would be found and the prisoner missing from her cell.

Rorick weaved unsteadily, eventually catching up as he uncorked a potion to counteract the drug he was given. Darting into the stables, they found Rorick's hound waiting on them, having finally destroyed the cage that contained him. Two horses were hastily saddled and mounted with a silent Kye in tow when the alarm of the bell rang out over the city. They tore out of the stables pushing the horses to with their heels as civilians and guards alike dove out of their path. Bullets whizzed by Bran's head and he cowered over Kye to shield her.

"Keep your head down!" Bran called out over his shoulder. They were nearly to the bridge and the gate was lowering. Both men sailed just under the points of the gate and a yelp emanated from Rorick. Bran glanced back to see the hunter clutching his bleeding side.

Directing the horses off the road, they took to the woods to make it more difficult for the pursuing guards to follow. They reached Duskwood and put more distance between alliance settlements.

"Where are we going?" Rorick inquired between gasping breaths.

"Stranglethron Vale."

"Great..."

They never stopped to give the horses rest until the edge of Duskwood where they had no choice. Rorick's horse collapsed to the ground in a stumbling manner, white froth coating it's neck and seeping from the corners of it's mouth.

"Bran, the horses are near death. We have to stop."

Sighing, Bran slowed his horse near a tree and dismounted with Kye. After lashing both reins to a low-hanging limb, all three of them took to the ground for a sit.

Rorick disrobed his upper half to check his wound. A moment of examination filled with poking and prodding brought on fresh pain.

"There is no exit. I'll have to remove the damned bullet. I can say that those guards are terrible shots. I hope you didn't train them." Rorick commented partially in jest.

"I thought that was your job," Bran chuckled and then groaned, rubbing his shoulder. His linen shirt was soaked through and the stain blossomed like a rose. He calmed his nerves and shifted back to human form.

"Let me."

Startled, both Bran and Rorick asessed Kye standing near them. The horses were looking refreshed and eagerly eating the greenery they could reach. There was no sign that they had been pushed to the limits.

"What did she say?" Rorick asked quietly.

Ignoring the inquiry, Bran used his good arm to reach over his head and pulled the shirt off, taking his time when it came to his wound.

Kye sat and placed her hands over the mostly coagulated wound and focused. A slow and steady warmth rippled from her hands to Bran's skin and in a mere second she sat back and nodded her head in satisfaction.

"There. Like nothing ever happened," She mused happily at her work.

Rorick had made his way to them out of curiosity and appeared quite puzzled. "What the hell was a healer prowling around like a rogue for?"

Kye looked to Bran for translation.

"He's wondering why you were running around as a rogue when you are clearly talented as a healer or priestess." He shrugged, donning his shirt.

"Priests and healers lead very hard and short lives. They are almost always drafted into the war regardless of skill level and then they die," Kye solemnly explained. "My father forbid it and my mother taught me what she knew in secret."

Bran cleared his throat and turned to Rorick. "Father issues."

The hunter scoffed as he pet his companion hound that had been his shadow since fleeing the city. "I know she said more than that."

Later, after a small fire had been built and modest game was slowly oasting over the flames, Bran stood at the edge of their temporary camp deep in throught. Rorick strolled to stand at his friend's side, giving a quick glance back at the bloodelf who was petting the horses on their flanks.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Rorick asked gently and in a low tone.

"There is nothing to talk about."

"The hell there isn't. Gaeb is dead and we are wanted for murder or treason and are smuggling a member of the horde!" Rorick barked. The panic and stress was clear in his voice. The hound whined at his feet.

"He was so far gone. Before we enlisted, I mean." Bran scubbed a hand over his unshaven face and dropped his eyes to the ground.

"I know. He was a loose cannon waiting to go off. Whatever happened to him in Kalimdor broke him." Rorick toed the grass beneath his feet. "Teach me Thalassian. I fee like I'm in the dark here."

"It's not something you can learn over night. I'll try. You'll need it where we are going." Bran turned and headed back to the campfire.

Rorick looked to the stars and closed his eyes. "Shit."