~*~ Author's Notes ~*~

This chapter is a little long but I just couldn't cut out the last conversation, no matter how much I tried XD

~*~ Chapter 21 ~*~

"So what are you doing here?" Kayas asked. The conversation earlier getting sidetracked to a book for some reason…

"Ah, yes. Well, I'm here to spy for the Dark Lady." Serz remarked casually.

"He's going to tell the Banshee Queen your alive," Jetadiah grinned, "and well and she need not concern herself with the state of your being."

Kayas turned to Serz, "You're a lousy spy."

Serze smiled behind his teacup. Most undead were missing part of their lips or their lisp were too dry to allow them to smile. Maybe she should look into this cream he suggested. Caspin was laughing softly, "You have no idea."

"You," she said to Caspin in Darnassian, "are a much better spy."

Caspin looked surprised; the Warlock and Priest looked confused. "Common, please?" Jetadiah inquired. Kayas gave a feral smile. It was nice to know a language he didn't. Payback for all the times his companion and he had argued in Highbourn and so she couldn't understand all the things they called each other. Both corrupted versions of her own, but as different as night and day*.

"Um…" Caspin looked quite ashamed, "I didn't understand that either." Then he said something to Serze in Gutterspeak. The Priest smacked the back of his head again. The scout sulked.

Kayas eyes threaten to bulge out of her head, "What do you mean? Your kaldorie! Right? Or are you wearing one of those trinkets-" The look Jetadiah shot her halted the question. Apparently that wasn't common knowledge.

"Caspin is my ward." Serze said by way of explanation, "I found him in the Western Plaguelands some time ago. He was feral."

At first Kayas though he meant a Druid like herself and then she realized what it meant. The facts set in; he had been a feral child. Threw their travels in the Plaguelands Jetadiah was constantly asked to make "search lights" to find missing children. This had been the major thing that had slowed their movement threw the territory.

As the story went, the Scourge had not only smashed the towns and taken the adults away to bolster the armies, but had taken any children also. The children were never seen again except as parts of reanimated abominations. Parents fleeing from the wreckage of their lives oft went back searching for what got left behind.

Very few parents found their children, and many more fell to the Scourge in the process. The Plaguelands, it was said, had the largest population of feral children anywhere in the world. Small and fast and young enough not to be taught to ignore their inborn instincts, these children had not only escaped their ravaged villages, but had survived in the wild, avoiding both Scourge and humanity alike**.

Only a spark of life from a person who shared their blood, mixed with the Holy Light as wielded by an extremely powerful Priest could find these children. But often what was found only looked like what was lost…

"You were raised by … the Forsaken?" Kayas inquired, sipping at her tea again, squashing down the mental images of female Forsaken trying to breastfeed out of her mind. The imp held out her cup for her master to refill.

"Ah-um. Not quite. Serz … um… raised me." This wasn't something he liked to talk about, that was quite obvious.

'I didn't mean to intrude." The Druid, turning back to Serz.

Smack. "Ow! I wasn't staring!"

"Caspin has lived the majority of his life in the Plaguelands, Silverpine and Tirisfall Glade. We've taken trips elsewhere, but the kaldorie …"

Caspin's voice was cold, "They don't accept outsiders. So, to fel with them; I'm fine." Which he certainly was not.

Kayas was quiet. Yes, it was her people's policy to keep to themselves. They didn't travel unless needed, preferring the cool forever twilight forests of their ancestral lands. They didn't accept anyone that was too different or didn't otherwise belong. This policy had kept them safe for thousands of years since the Well of Eternity had exploded. There was a reason they didn't let just anyone with long ears march threw their territories.

She had been mistaken; he wasn't a spy. He wasn't a captive as she, memorizing facts for her eventual return home where she would divulge her stores of information. He was a willing participant.

He was Horde.

The though made her sad, she didn't even want to feel him there anymore. If it were her right she would have kicked him out of the house. A change of subject was needed and she knew what it was:

Turning sharply to the Priest, Kayas asked, "Where's your Warlock?" The memory of the dream flickered threw her mind and she wondered if, inside the Priest, such a monster as she had seen truly existed. His eyes did seem a bit lighter on the green side than usual.

Jetadiahs' face went blank, "She's in the Undercity."

"She's being 'reeducated'." Caspin said, trying to be helpful. Both Forsaken and Blood Elf glared at him and he looked quite confused, "That's what you said earlier-"

Serze looked more sad than angry, "Forgive my ward, he seems slow to pick up on certain things that arnt discussed in mixed company."

Good, Kayas though. She hoped whatever this 'reeducation' was quite unpleasant. "When will she be back?"

Now the Priest raised an eyebrow at her, a trick that caused his long brows to shift oddly. "I don't have an ETA, though I'll be happy to send word if you miss her company so much."

"Serz misses her co- OW!"

"Respect your elders." Jetadiah reproached, snatching his other hand away from the contraption as it snapped closed.

"I don't miss –" Kayas cleared her throat, "I just think it odd for her not to be here." Though I'm glad she's gone, was the unspoken part. "And where is here, if I might inquire?"

"Brill." Three male voices said at once.

When no further information was forthcoming, she stood, relished the feel of leather against her legs, and went do the door. If they wouldn't provide more information she'd get it herself. The door opened a fraction of an inch just as the Priest slammed it shut again.

"I think it best you not go outside, just yet."

"Come now, m' Lord." Serz was saying, "After that performance in the courtyard, no Forsaken anywhere are going to raise a hand to her."

Guilt flashed threw the eldest elf's features, "I shouldn't have…"

Kayas was angry. She shoved him back, nearly causing him to fall over the remains of a chair. Flinging the door open, the waltzed out, head high.

And stopped.

There were buildings, if you could call them that, and life, if you could call it that, but it was obvious that you could not call them that. Dingy dirty 'houses' lined the streets, with 'shops' and 'stables' in viewing range. The road was torn up and scarred from battle. There wasn't a window in sight that wasn't broken. And not a clean thing to be seen; even the lanterns were caked in grime.

'People' milled about, shuffling on unfeeling feet. Some drug sleds of junk behind them, some drug the tattered remains of what they once wore in life. Men and woman, all sunken and dead, hollow and lifeless were the inhabitants of what used to be a very prominent human town.

All that was left was darkness, despair, echoing emptiness and the feeling that, though the residents still walked the streets, no one was here at all. Kayas the Druid couldn't feel a single thing alive in the entire town.

Turning, she went back into the house, down the hall to the room and locked the door behind her. As she went she heard the Priest say, "It isn't the Forsaken I feared, but this. Druids exist to maintain balance in the world: to preserve life. There is nothing here for her."

She lay down on the bed and cried, utterly alone. 'I want to go home.' She sent the message out into the universe for anyone that was listening. 'I can't do this anymore, I want to go home.'

A few minutes latter there was a scratching sound on the door. The panther wanted in. Brushing the tears from her face, she went to the door and let the oversized animal threw. It had another steak in its mouth.

She smiled, slid to the floor in a sitting position. "How did you get here?" she asked, scratching behind the big fuzz filled ears. "And how, for the love of Elune and Cenarius, do you keep sane in this place?"

"Ruuuuhhggg purr."

From the for room she heard a cry, "He took the last steak? Aww, that's all we had," followed by a soft boom as his work exploded again.

Serze laughed, "Well that's what you get for gutterspeak. But, quite frankly, I think it's about time."

"Serz," The Priest gasped, the prude in him swimming to the surface, "You're speaking to a child."

"I'd wager he's old enough to hear a dirty line or two." There was a chuckle in the Warlock's voice. "And perhaps a pint spent at a pub?"

"Your whelp, you teach him how to drink." Jetadiah bluntly refused to shoulder a father's responsibility in teaching a son to be a responsible drunk.

"What am I going to eat for dinner?" Caspin implored, not understanding what drinking and 'dirty lines' had to do with his foisted steaks.

Kayas grinned, shifting into her feline form and enjoying every bite of the meat. Let him go hungry. Not like he couldn't just walk into any local shop and re-supply. She wondered if he had papers or something he showed them so they wouldn't attack. Or a tattoo or a secret handshake or the fel-shard in his back pocket. What were criteria for being welcomed into the Horde these days?

"Come now, m' Lord, no one can drink you under the table. You know us Forsaken are lightweights."

"Perhaps I'll take him by the cathouse in Silvermoon on the way back as well?"

Silence. "If you think it best, m' Lor-"

BOOM!

"Is a cathouse where Druids live?" Casking asked threw gagging coughs.

Silence. "The female ones, maybe-"

Stomp, stomp, stomp. Smack. "What was that for?" The confused Warlock asked.

*English and Latin for those of us who are American. 90% of our language comes form Latin, but it is so corrupted and changed over the hundreds of years that we wouldn't be able to understand Ancient Romans to save our lives.

** Google search Feral Children for real stories of this kind. This idea came to me after reading World War Z. The though had occurred to me before, but this book put it into perspective.