"You oughtn't to be walking as you are."

I ignored Brath as I stormed off toward the Exodar. Well. Stormed isn't really the right word. Limped, staggered, dragged my half-conscious, bleeding-out—they said that I wasn't, but why should I trust them?—broken-handed, super pissed off self through sheer will power to get away from Brath and his weird bromance.

Seriously, what the heck?

Apparently Brath's previous owner was all for releasing Brath into the wild, too. Though…I guess he wanted to do it because of all the destruction Brath might cause.

But Brath. He told me that he'd been a prisoner, you know? To a horribly cruel man—which the warlock seemed flattered to have been called—and I'd bought it. Some of it.

Grrr. I think it's like a dragon pick up line for finding a rider or something. I bet Derres used something like that on Nicolas. Or maybe it's just Brath. Maybe he's just that much of a dick. Like, woe is him for being in such a horrible predicament, who ever will save him? I bet he's not even on Nicolas' employer's radar. He's probably not that important.

So why, you might wonder, if Brath was already going to be free, did he make a deal with me and then ride off into the sunset, abandoning his former rider in enemy territory. It was because the warlock told him he knew he wouldn't do that.

I kid you not. The whole reason Brath left his buddy stranded was because he'd told him he didn't think he'd stoop that low.

And apparently they've been doing this back and forth to each other for a while now? Like Mr. Dances-with-Demons actually tried to plague Brath at one point? Like, tried to make him undead. Who does that to friends?

So, as they were telling me this, I was still, you know, sort of waiting for Brath to be like, "Just kidding," and eat that stupid warlock. Did he? No, of course not. They're like best friends in the whole world. Does it matter that I could potentially lose mobility in my hand or that—assuming I don't die from infection from having dead people fingers in my injuries—I will never be able to wear a bikini ever again because of the scars that will no doubt be left around my ribcage because of said warlock? Well, I mean, not that I'd look great in a bikini anyway, since I am kind of flat and scrawny…but still. Not the point. I still have time to fill out. I think.

I never paid attention in biology.

That is hardly the problem, though! Brath promised to help me. To save my world. And instead he's fraternizing with the guy who just said he was gonna torture me and nearly killed me?

And you know, I just had to ask how all this was possible. I don't even know what I meant. I think I was looking for an answer as to why, just when I'm dealing with being jealous of a little kid, I suddenly find out the one guy I was sort of secretly hoping I could count on, would let me down like this.

They misinterpreted my question to be about how Brath and his owner had ended up in Stormwind to begin with. And they were all giggles to tell me that, like grade school girls talking about a crush.

Just…ugh.

I can so clearly remember fighting this forsaken guy and now he's acting as harmless as a butterfly. A really ugly, dead butterfly, but still. I think everything hurts more, knowing how easily he could have overtaken me and then seeing him like this. At least with Nicolas, he's always a jerk, so you aren't surprised when he whips out his daggers and starts slicing things up.

Anyway.

I got about half way through story time before I just started walking away.

So I guess Mr. Warlock, whose name is Bartholomew Blackheart—he so made up that last name—was gathering reagents for some spell he was going to cast to nullify the power of the reins. And he found out the Alliance had gotten a hold of some of whatever he needed, so he went to the human town in disguise to get them.

I guess there are like these earring-trinket-orb things that you can use to disguise yourself as a different species?

First of all: what? Secondly: no seriously, what? I mean, I could understand if it's like a projected image around you, but then, like if I was disguised as an undead, I have parts where they don't, right? So like, if someone went to grab my rotten arm, wouldn't they feel that there was more flesh there than there should have been? Or does it actually change your physical form? How would that even work?

I know, I know. It's magic.

Off topic.

Well, he got the stuff he needed. Only to, gasp, find out that his BFF was kidnapped by some mysterious creature, no doubt working with the red flight to purge the black dragons from the world. So he mulled about for a day or so and then put up a flyer for help. Yeah. Like what that guard told me to do when I first got to Stormwind and was totally clueless about how to get help? He did it in enemy territory just to get his dragon back. So that he could let his dragon go.

I don't…I can't even begin to understand what is going on between the two of them. They're just so…

Okay, here's a psychotic dragon who wants to destroy the world and a rotting bag of bones—the smell is almost non-existent, oddly enough—who likes demons and torturing people. They're like, both equally evil, or at least they are in each other's eyes—which makes me worry about the sort of things Brath has done in the past—and they're both like total bad asses. But the second you get them together, it's like an episode of My Little Ponies. Love and friendship all the way.

I don't watch that show, by the way. Greg is a Brony, though, and that was another of our forced bonding moments.

Is…was…I don't know.

Now that I'm not staring into the black abyss of death, I don't feel nearly as bleak about my family's odds. Like, maybe it's just dumb to think they're still alive, but at the same time, I think the only reason I was willing to accept they might be gone was because I didn't want to die knowing that they'd always wonder what had happened to me. If that makes sense?

And you know, I do have things to live for. Like getting back to my world and helping rebuild or making sure Fizz doesn't get caught by Nicolas—though realistically I'm sure he can handle himself—or, you know, learning how to skin so that I can make a Brath cloak.

I guess I offended Mr. Blackheart by walking away in the middle of his epic tale of crossing continents in search of his beloved dragon and how apparently he can swim forever because he doesn't have to breathe—creepy—and how he was worried that Brath was being interrogated about…who knows what? I stopped listening.

I have to say: I think I like my zombies mindless. Because he definitely mentioned snacking on someone.

I hate Azeroth. I think the undead might be worse than griffons. And that this world has both? Just no. They both need to be purged. Except for maybe that undead healer from Booty Bay. Hmm…maybe it's less undead that need to be purged and more so warlocks.

Yes. Warlocks and griffons.

And to make it worse, they followed me.

Here I am, barely able to move and trying desperately to out-walk the sound of their voices and they got up and came after me. Since we have a mutual 'friend' I guess that makes Mr. Warlock willing to tolerate my continued existence, because he seemingly forgot how he was totally going to kill me whether I answered his questions or not.

Well, Brath was all insistent that he fly me to the Exodar so that I could get treatment faster. At first, he asked his buddy to patch me up with some first aid techniques, but the warlock was adamant that he doesn't 'fix the things he breaks'.

I wouldn't let him touch me again anyway. As soon as I get bandaged/healed/finish chugging some potions, I'm dragging Nicolas away from the others and he is teaching me how to evade things. Maybe I'll never be able to decapitate a felguard again, but they won't be hitting me either.

That is my new life goal.

I'm so tired of getting hurt. And the only way to fix that is to get better at this whole combat thing. If anything good came out of my duel, it's that I think I finally have the resolve to join the fight. And that the Horde will probably be coming, too.

So, while the duo were stalking me, I told them to stop following me. And the warlock was like, "We could simply be heading in the same general direction. If you were capable of moving with any haste, you'd see that we were going somewhere other than your intended destination."

I think that was supposed to be a joke, but, meh.

I stopped and turned to face them—the warlock still felt wrong and he scared me. His hood had fallen back when I'd tackled him and he hadn't bothered to put it back in place. Half of his face was gone, leaving just his skull showing, and the other half kind of sagged, like the skin was barely attached. Just looking at him kind of made me want to throw up, so instead I focused on Brath, who was still in dragon form.

I have to say, since he was imprisoned on the Exodar for refusing to pay for the damages in the inn, he hasn't gone human much. I'm not really sure why. I mean, the draenei know he can look human, right? So he's not hiding it from anyone, and the draenei will probably tell Nicolas—assuming his employer didn't, which again, means that Brath's not hiding from anyone. I think maybe he's feeling a bit powerless since he was locked up and wandering around in his man-eating form makes him feel stronger or something.

I don't know.

But I was mad and they were annoying and I kind of wanted to get that warlock to go away one way or another. Since it didn't look like Brath would kill him, I knew I couldn't, and I doubted he'd be stupid enough to follow me back to a few guards who could probably take him out, I just glared at Brath and said, "You know, I wouldn't want my world to get in the way of you and your friend's adventures. Maybe you should just go."

However, before I could add something about riding off to the Horde, Brath was suddenly in human form, hugging me. And dear lord that hurt. Air touching my injuries was painful enough, so when actual weight was applied? Ow, ow, ow.

So after hissing for him to let go of me and then him eyeing his robes distastefully seeing as they had my blood on them, he kind of idled near me, like he was actually worried. Mr. Warlock's one remaining eyebrow shot up from this display of affection, too, which made me uneasy. I can't quite say why, though.

Anyway. Brath was quick to argue. "I told you before: I am committed to your aid."

That piqued Mr. Blackheart's interest—I don't know why I call him by his last name…maybe because it distances me from him and makes sure people don't think we're friends?—and Brath explained my world and how we were awaiting news.

"No we're not," I interrupted as he explained everything and he looked at me all confused like. Then in dawned on me that I'd come out here to tell him the awesome news and had gotten a little distracted fending for my life. How inconsiderate of me. So I explained Michel and portals and Zingermarch and they told me I can't pronounce anything to save my life. Brath was mostly insistent on that, relating my attempts to say his full name, which resulted in both of them laughing at me.

I don't think I can adequately explain the wrongness of the whole situation. That Forsaken guy…I literally meant as much to him as an ant might to me. The only reason he wasn't killing me was because of Brath and yet he acted like we could all just laugh together? While part of me was indignant, another part of me was also kind of scared. Like Brath might say, "Just kidding," only mean it about me and that the two of them would tear me apart.

I have to say it was actually kind of hard not to panic as the two carried on casual conversation. However, Brath mentioned that he needed to escape to my world and suddenly, everything changed.

Well, I not quite sure what happened next. There was a question about when this would be happening and when I mentioned talk of heading out as soon as possible and taking no more than a month to reach Zangarmarsh, as I'd been corrected, suddenly Mr. Blackheart was walking back into the ocean—apparently he'd been on the island for a few days wandering around, hence why he was dry when he attacked me—and telling us that he could meet us as some dark portal in three weeks time at worst. And he smiled and waved as he disappeared into the water. Like he hadn't just beat the crap out of me and we were all good friends.

I really don't want to ever see him again, but I guess he's going to the Horde to get more help for my world? As a favor to Brath? I wonder what Brath did that made Mr. Blackheart so willing to help him. I'm kind of too scared to ask because I'm really beginning to think that Brath might be an honest to god monster.

Or maybe he just knows how to manipulate monsters.

All I know is that I didn't want to think about that sort of stuff and so I tried to play it off. As I grumbled something about letting the jerk leave in one piece when I was barely in one, Brath leaned against me carefully, so as not to make me hurt too much worse, and nuzzled my hair.

"If you want me to kill him, I can catch him on the far shore. Really, though, we could use the Horde's help with your world."

I stared out at the waters where the warlock had disappeared, thinking about how giddy the two of them had been together. How fondly they had shared memories and how highly they'd seemed to regard one another. After all that, Brath was willing to kill the guy on my word?

He took my silence as anger and nuzzled me again, pausing to breathe in my hair. "Bartholomew is a special kind of creature. Loyal to very few. He views me as a kindred spirit and, while I could have killed him when I interrupted your fight, I think this will be a better way of gaining more support for our cause than trying to persuade your little goblin friend to walk into Orgrimmar and ask for assistance."

Slowly, I turned to stare up at Brath and saw that he had a dark, amused look in his face as he tilted his head to inspect me. I was speechless. Brath really, truly is evil.

And yet I still would rather trust his logic for getting allies than anyone else I can think of. Whatever he's up to, it's self serving and he's not gonna screw me over so long as our goals are the same. And right now, we both need to get to and save my world. If he thinks we need the Horde, then we might as well recruit them.

He ran his fingers down my cheek and then knelt beside me, offering to let me slouch onto his back. "Now then, do let me take you back to the Exodar? You really should see a healer, and I doubt you'd be able to hold on if I flew you there."

…-…

A/N: Thank you all for reading!