Reuploaded Dec 24, 11

~*~ Author's Notes ~*~

This was the last chapter I wrote before Wrath of the Litch King came out. A month into LK and my guild downed Naxx in one night. I quite PvE in disgust and this story fell by the wayside. Then Cata came out and the lore-whore in me snatched this out of the jaws of oblivion.

~ Fixes~

Obvious grammar errors, such as a lot of misplaced commas. Fixed obvious spelling errors. Fleshed out some descriptions. Fixed some of the worst run on sentences. Tried to find other ways to say 'said' and remove some of the 'he' and 'she' that pepper the paragraphs way too much for my liking.

~*~ Chapter 5 ~*~

"No, you won't." The Priest assured. His voice could be heard clearly threw the bag despite the fact that he and his horse had kept moving.

"Mrooowww…?"

"He's worried the oogie-boogies are gonna get you before he's got a chance to give you to Thrall- Oh, we got a live one here!"

At the mention of the Horde Warchief the Druid went wild, survival as her only instinct. She would not survive two bears and a wildcat only to be healed to full health and handed over to the Orcs! To be the pet of the Priest was one thing, she owed him her life and would humor him for a while till he got bored and sent her home, but to be anywhere near something as evil as Thrall…? No. Never!

Long claws raked the inside of the back as the cat fought with all her strength to shift into another form and undo the buttons. When her body failed to shift still, she reached for the power to the Druid haven of Moonglade. I know I owe you, she though, but your asking too much…

Blocked! She was blocked from using the teleportation spell. It was as if there were some kind of invisible wall between her and the natural powers that came so easily to a Druid. She couldn't even conjure an ounce of Elune or Cenarion's light inside the bag. "Mrooowwww!" She called in distress. "Mrowww!"

The Priest sighed, turned his horse around and came back.. The Druid blushed inside blue fur. Helpless as her position was he was going let her out or else she's make a fuss all the way to Orgrimmar! Her father often told her she had that kind of persistent stubbornness that bordered on insane when she put her mind to doing something just to annoy someone else.

The Priest opened the bag, but put his hand up to stop the frightened cat from jumping out. His glowing green eyes were soft but his expression was weary. He'd just had to heal a rude vendor who had upset his companion and been set on fire by her. Traveling with the Warlock must be where his patience comes from.

"Listen, little one, do not take everything my companion here says seriously. Yes, we are going to Orgrimmar, though I doubt you'll warrant Thrall's attention. Chill. Seriously." The childish words surprised the Druid and made her wonder if he was only pretending to be as mature as he seemed.

"Mrrrrww…" The Druid tried to shift again and could not, even with the bag open. The Priest leaned over and slipped his finger under a collar she didn't realize she was wearing. The smell of the holy and fel energies emanating from him made her wrinkle her nose and sneeze. The hand withdrew, it's owner knowing even better than she why a Kal'dorie was sensitive to such magic.

"You won't warrant Thrall's attention," He said again, "You're blocked from calling on the powers of nature, as much to keep you hidden as to keep you from running off. No shifting, no teleporting, no healing" The very still and blank look she was giving him made him smile. He was a bit sadistic after all, she saw. "You can thank you fellow Alliance for this invention. Gnomish engineering at it's finest. A collar to make a pet out of any animal, with fully customizable features." He grinned. It wasn't lost on her that this meant the collar AND the pet were fully customizable…

I hope you get a cavity in those pearly whites. I hope it hurts. Immediately she felt guilty of such a thing and wondered if at any point in her training as a Druid would she ever learn to heal dental problems.

Her tail thumped. He was too pretty. Damn him. She loved the hair. Sighing, she laid her head down between her paws and he buttoned the bag back up. She resolved to say calm… she would... all threw Orgrimmar… the capital city of the Horde nation… where Thrall lives… the Warchief of the Horde... Leader of

her enemies…

~ Two Days Latter ~

Feed meeeee… Feeeeed meee!

How long had they been traveling? The only time they had stopped was for the bathroom breaks that gave the warlock an opportunity to flex her skill at customizing the death of everything around her. Murlocs, Dwarves, cows – all were fair game if they could be made to give up a ghost in as many screams as possible.

She had been allowed out of the bag for only a few minutes at a time to stretch her legs. Finding out the hard way that the thin metal collar had a mind-numbing range indicator on it had been the highlight of one of these stops. She was getting used to the Warlocks smoky howls of laughter.

Three days and no food was just mean and the mewling-mewling-mewling that accompanied each exit and return to the bag only earned her a blank face from the Priest. Were the Horde so evil that hatred for all things sacred was enough to fuel their bodies? Did they not eat… ever?

Her tummy has stopped rumbling by the second day and now even her hunger has ceased. Her body was running on what fat and food she had when she had been taken from Dark Shore. If they didn't feed her soon she was going to start starving.

And the endless riding! How did they do this all the time? The motion of the horse, the heat from the internal inferno, the smell of the imp who sat beside her bag and complained constantly- they were going to addle her brains!

"Mrrooowww." She complained to no one in general. Just a reminder that she was still there… still hungry… still not wanting to visit Orgrimamr.

"Suck it up, sista! You aint the only one sick of being on the back of this thing. You think I wanna be here too?" It was the imp speaking. The Druid had heard him called Ziltip? He thumped the bag to emphasize his point; "These two are apparently really good at taking natives out of their respective habitats and making fools of them in public. I got a Warlock's curse on me and you got a High Priest's home-forged toy around your skinny neck. Both stop us from leaving. Deal with it."

"The 'toy'," the priest boasted in the tone of voice he used to indicate he was busy and didn't really want to enter the conversation, "is the highest quality of engineering know to any race on Azeroth or threw the Dark Portal."

"Speaking of Dark Portal…!" the Warlock cut in but was cut off just as fast.

"No. Again." The Druid was beginning to differentiate the different tones of voice the Priest used. The one was Persistence Killer and was used when the Warlock wouldn't stop harping on an issue and he had to make her stop or he'd lose it.

Don't know why you don't just mind control her and toss her off a cliff… the Druid though. Then I could get out of this bag, go threw HER bag and eat whatever food I KNOW the two of brought with you. Even the diehard Druid inside her was unable to feel bad about the idea. The fact that the idea even came to her made her unhappy. She blamed it on her forced companionship with Horde scum. "Mrooooo" she complained again. "FEED ME!" is what she wanted to scream and would have had she the mouth to form the words.

"What's got you up in a fuss? We just stopped for potty break a few hours ago." The Warlock really didn't care; still nose deep in her evil tomes as she spoke, but obviously sharing the boredom and travel weariness.

The 'potty break' has been about five minutes and there just happen to be a stream within the collar's short range from which she could drink. The Warlock had laid waste to a Murloc village and plundered their main structure for slimy riches. Hungry as the Druid was, she wouldn't allow herself to go threw the property of murder victims for food. Saying the proper prayers to Elune even as the unholy imp, who was apparently in chare of keeping up with her when she went potty, was driving her back to the bag.

Sighing, the little Druid went back to her meditations and prayers. They all started off with "Please, Elune, if you love me at all, keep me as far away from Thrall as you possibly can!"

~ Two Days Latter ~

Two more days in the bag and the Druid had had enough. This time when they let her out she refused to get back in. She could feel herself wasting away from the hunger, her energy waxing and waning by shear determination. She would sit on the horse's rump but she was NOT getting back into the bag.

"Get in the bag, stupid kitty!" The Warlock hissed. Ziltip did a backflip away from her and stood ready to open fire if he needed to.

The Druid almost hissed at her. She sat on the horse's rump, tail lashing in irritation, but staring down the Warlock. The undead being was several feet shorter than the Druid from standing on the ground. Even from her diminished higher she was still somehow much more impressive to behold than angry feral Druid sitting on a demon horse. They were going to have to PUT her in the bag-!

Rabbit? …

Rabbit..?

RABITRABITRABIT!

The little Druid tore off the horse's flanks, causing the demon spawn to lash out with hoof and horn and almost gore the Warlock. Caught off guard, the Warlock ordered one demon after the Druid and the other to be still.

The Dreadstead took off after her! Hundreds of pounds of molten rage came pounding threw the forests, thundering up dust and debris as the Druid tore after a white rabbit. It was here, she though, it was right here! She stopped and sniffed, almost getting trampled by the demon horse as it rounded the tree after her.

The bunny fled from under a log, more scared of the flaming menace than of the sickly Druid. The Druid tried to stealth but could not, nor could she use any of her other special feral abilities. What she had was speed and teeth.

"Corrosa!" It was the Priest, back from wherever he wandered off to during their short stops. The Druid couldn't see him but she could certainly tell he was upset.

"I'm trying, the damn thing wants blood!" The Warlock sounded more frazzled than panicked. She'd made a mistake and sent the wrong demon.

"It wants your blood, why is it chasing my Druid?"

"I don't have any fel-damned blood to give it. Just shut up for a second!" The feeling of fel energy being gathered was not as important to the Druid as getting that damned rabbit!

All three of them rounded a bend at the same time, rabbit in front and Dreadstead in back. The noise of the raging beast, the sound of whipping grass were not nearly as startling as the screams of the rabbit when it made a fetal turn and was snatched out of the air by the jaws of a starving feral cat.

Right when the hooves of the Dreadstead, whom the Druid just now realized was right on top of her, were about to come down, the animal vanished in a poof of gray Nether dust. Blinking, the Druid turned towards the Warlock and Priest, who were striding over with very serious looks in their eye. My food! she though, back in up with the dying rabbit in her mouth. The taste of blood and the feel of the pumping heart against her fangs reawakened her predator.

The Warlock stopped, "Go ahead and eat it."

The Priest kept moving towards the Druid but gave the Warlock a look over his shoulder. His long hair flip-flaped side to side as he shook his head. The Druid kept backing up. "You can't eat that." He said plainly, as if that were all she needed to know.

Watch me. Did they think she couldn't hunt for herself? There was almost a blush when memories of the impression she made at their first meeting drifted forward. A dying Druid and nothing to show for it certainly would make one question her ability to fend for herself.

Thoughts of her family came next, and wondered if the Priest did indeed get the bear carcasses to them as promised. She had been unable to ask him for obvious reasons.

"Eat that and you'll shift into something far less intimidating than a she-kitten Druid."

"I have a rabbit stew recipe with you as the main attraction." The Warlock smiled. Undead shouldn't have teeth that shade of mossy white; at least not this one.

Confused, the Druid stopped backing up. "You can't eat anything till we get to Orgrimmar." She meweled at him around her mouth full of fluff and gave a disbelieving look…. as close as she could with her kitty features. "The collar is… um… "

"Enchanted!" the Warlock supplied

"Thank you," The Priest said over his shoulder. The Warlock smiled again. The Druid got the feeling he was thanking her in an ironic way... that maybe she had something…

The Druid growled and glared at the Warlock. She dropped the rabbit and, as if it were never hurt, it bounded away faster than she though possible. Guess the will to survive is stronger in the prey than the predators.

She knew what it was. The Priest had given the collar to the Warlock at some point, to hold for a second or to be the one to put it on the Druid, and the Warlock had enchanted it to make the Druid into anything she ate. Maybe permanently.

The Warlock gave a familiar whooping laughter. Ziltip danced at her side, nervous as ever.