~*~ Author's Notes ~*~

This chapter was originally three pages long and written to be usable as a stand-alone short story.

Written two years ago (pre-Cata) when the Argent Squires first came out and my guild noticed that not only do Night Elf children not exist but also neither do Forsaken children.

~*~ Chaper 33 ~*~

There was one Scarlet the children never bothered. Each of the guards in turn always came back telling stories of hearing children crying and calling for help, but not this one.

Salira Porter was painfully aware of why the children avoided her… aware and also grateful. If she, like the others, ever had to contend with hearing their moaning and calls for help she, like others, would slowly go insane.

It was children's week again. The Scarlet Campaign always avoided leaving people alone on this particular holiday. Former parents went insane or would leave in droves to go back to the Plaguelands to look for their lost children. Or they would fall victim to Sylvannas' Angels, thinking they were back home in Brill or the Agamand Mills and could save the child who wondered too far and was caught by the Scourge.

Arthas had held even these small lives in contempt, using them to fuel his war machines, the nightmare-wrought Abominations. Too small to fight even as empowered Scourge minions they had been dismembered and sewn together to make larger versions of themselves. Often they were not entirely dead before this process began.

Abominations, rotting bags of pus, bile and knife-wielding arms, often had the intelligence of the children it came from – and the same unerring fierce loyalty to it's creator as those same children.

Salira had often been questions about why she never heard the cries and screams, but these she avoided neatly claiming that she was partially deaf. This wasn't true, the only real lie she ever told the Scarlet Command, and the rest of the year she had to deal with people talking overly loud around her. This she dealt with it to hear what they had to say when they though she couldn't hear them.

This particular evening a guard had come up missing. Not two days after Tirion Fordrings visit to their little fortified corner of this Light forsaken world promising he was making headway in the Undercity and the Forsaken's most dangerous weapon struck again.

The company Commander had left with a whole slew of fighters to track down the children responsible and bring them to a swift end. Meanwhile Salira was stuffing a bag with provisions and sneaking out of the tower. Sometimes being avoided by what rustles in the bushes is a good thing when one is trying to make a playdate set years ago on accident.

Outside the tower and down the wind-eroded cliffs that went on for a mile was the ocean. The Cape of Loarderon had once been a busy shipping terminal, bringing in goods from all over the world. Arthas had bombed the docks so thoroughly that there wasn't even a pylon in the sand to show where the commercial trade hub had once stood. So much for fleeing by the sea routs.

That wasn't why she was here anyway. Her family had lived in Brill working as guards in the Castle for generations. Never high ranking though prominently displayed in the throne room. Good fighters; quality people. When she had been hired she had moved out of Brill, away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

It saved her in the end. Her little house on its acre of land overlooking the cliff face and the ocean had brought her joy in the short two years it stood. Nothing remained of it now, burned to the ground for hearth-shivering reasons, but in it she had lived, loved and had her son.

The shore this day was bare of murlocs. Every now and again they swarm up out of the ocean and have to live on land. The Naga, former Night Elves twisted by demonic magic, now inhabited most of the murky depths and were not intent on sharing. The cycle went that the Naga would invade the land and the murlocs would go home. Then the Naga were driven back into the sea and the murloc came to shore. On and on.

The sand was thick today, not shimmering in the slightest as it once had. Along this very shore she had walked almost ten years ago with a little boy at her side. He would giggle and run to chase the waves back into the ocean. Then run back to her as if the waves were trying to take him out to sea. On and on.

Her booted toe sank into the wetness and slime. Chilly sea air pulled strands of prematurely graying hair from under her reddened helm and wrapped them around her face. One gloved hand went to swipe them away as the red-clad woman looked out into the ocean. She signed and felt the tightness in her chest coil.

As the hand came down another found it. Small and thin it slid into hers as if it always belonged there. Once upon a time it had, when the sky had been blue and the water had been green.

"Happy Children's Week" she whispered as tears came into her eyes. She didn't look at the owner of the hand.

The small fingers squeezed hers in that manner that meant agreement. There were rustles behind her, all around her where she couldn't see, that indicated the presence of even more of them than usual.

"You have more friends this year. I'm glad." The words choked in her throat, "I hope you're finding them and not that she's making them."

The hand shook as the body it was attached too shook vehemently in protest. Her fear was not the case this time. They had indeed been found like this. Their own families long since abandoned them, they only had each other and her.

Salira tried to smile so that her voice would indicate pleasure, "I brought you something." Taking back her gloved hand she knelt and removed the pack from her back. Still without looking at the silent figure that stood just out of peripheral the gauntlets were removed and bare hands fished an enchanted wand out of the bag. The little tip glowed with children-safe fire spells. When it was flicked a certain way the fire launched itself. With practice a child could make-believe they were a wizard shooting powerful fire spells but without the danger of actually setting a blaze.

Her son had loved watching the mages in town put on their shows. The silent being reached out and took the offering as she held it out to the side. The fingers did not touch hers. There was a sound of delight and then several flickering lights went flying towards desiccated plant'life' near the water's edge. More sounds of wonder and happiness followed as a small mob moved around behind her to get a closer view.

She should have known he'd bring his friends. All his friends. Each year more and more. It made her heart ache to know the facts of it and, secretly in some place of her mind no one could reach, made her glad still that they were not as yet used for scrap. Savable.

Small arms went around her back in a hug. Her hauberk prevented actually feeling the gesture but it was so familiar to have the weight around her middle for that one second that she tipped her head back to avoid having the tears run out from under her helmet.

The Scarlet Command would string her up if they knew about her yearly trip to the ocean. None of them were allowed to leave their assigned base without company. None of them were allowed to interact with the Scourge in a friendly or even neutral manor. None of them were allowed to participate in holiday or take vacations until their tour was up. Like most of them hers tour would not end until Arthas was brought down and Loarderon was free of the Scourge. There was still a living Menathil out there somewhere who had a throne to claim as far as the Scarlet Crusade was concerned, and they would ready the kingdom for the day.

The little arms released their hold and stood back. Salira knelt, fished out more items from her bag. "I didn't know how many to bring this year. I don't know if there were even enough last year. I got what I could under the circumstances." The bag was emptied of each item inside one at a time. They were handed to the side and taken back to the mob behind her one at a time.

There were squeals and gasps of delight. Despite knowing who was receiving her gifts the Scarlet woman smiled inside her helm. These tears were of joy. Nothing on the face of the planet compared to happy children. Not even when they called a place like this home.

"Spread those around, they're all I could get. I'll try to do better next year but things have been hectic back at base." She winced, "You know how it is here." There was a little giggle from somewhere that would have sent chills down her spine if it were not so innocent. Yes, they knew exactly how it was.

Several popping noises were heard followed by gasps of delight and a foul smelling smoke. Someone had discovered the Junior Engineers Kit.

Salira stood, intent on leaving. The Command would know if she were gone too long. Her break was only for two hours and it took half as long to get here to spite the watch guards. As she turned back toward the cliffs leading up to the base, pack carrying only the gauntlets now, a small hand grasped hers. The cold, hard fingers tugged at her to wait.

Teeth clenched against the pain that erupted in her heart. Yes, she had known the truth for years but this was the first time she had felt it. As if reacting to her tenseness the hand withdrew suddenly. Then a hard object found it's way into her palm. Her fingers closed around it without looking.

"Be good. Do as your told. I'll be back next year. Hopefully we wont have to do this much longer. Someday soon we'll get to go home."

Slinging the pack across her back once more she went hurriedly into the woods with the intent of circling the base and coming in on the other side. She's make it look like she was returning form the Shrine of Light after prayers for the dead woman.

As if being pulled by something inside her soul she turned around to face the beach once more. It was deserted now. Small footprints too numerous to count surrounded her large booted prints in a neat semicircle. Singes on the undead plants and a green smoke in the air are all that remained of the encounter.

Movement to her right caused her to glance in that direction. Both gauntlets were back on her hands, weapon at the ready when she met eye to eye with the Banshee Queen herself. The Scourged woman stood watching from the same spot she had been even before the Scarlet woman had arrived. In her hand was the small flickering wand.

Salira ground her teeth. That this woman was too mean to find a grave and stay in it was one thing but taking toys from…

No. That wasn't it. The undead High Elf was looking over the wand, checking it. In a few seconds she handed it behind her and a shadow ran off with it into the dark forest. She was making sure it was safe.

Safe.

Salira and Sylvannas met eyes again and in that moment they were not enemies. In that moment they were just two women with a self-apointed job to do. No one had ever made Salira bring toys to the beach. No one had made Sylvanas check them for traps. Each was doing their part to make the world better and safer in their own warped ways.

For just the briefest of moments they were in harmony and understanding, in envy and longing, of each other. The one woman had lost her child and motherhood in order to provide protection for the living. The other had taken in those children and protected them from the living.

"We're in need of an Orphan Matron should you ever get yourself killed. The children don't much like the idea of it; they much prefer you alive where you can bring them toys."

"I much prefer myself alive. I –" she winced again at her words, "don't intend them any harm." As if she by herself, a warrior who doesn't posses even an ounce of magic, could hope to fight that many if she ever did turn on them. Just one or two were formidable, but dozens…

The Banshee Queen chuckled softly, red eyes fading to a dim white ghost light. "The children have petitioned me on your behalf and so I granted you lenience. For ten years I have come here to watch you hand out toys to the dead. For ten years I have felt you hope it wasn't him who came, the child you lost. For ten years you have wondered if it was the last year or if you would soon join him in undeath.

All is not lost in this war. There is life in Quel'thalas again. There are trees growing on blighted ground that consume the Plague as fuel. There is a being here in Loarderon who can bring the dead back to life if they are healed of their mortal wounds before they turn. We are close, sister. We are so very close to finding a cure for the Plague.

Do not lose hope."

Salira blanched and gasped at this news, chain mail shivering against the plate armor she wore, "A cure… For my boy?"

"If it is news to you that the Forsaken are working to cure the Plague then someone somewhere up your chain of command is keeping secrets."

The Scarlet woman didn't like hearing that she may have been lied to by anyone. "I have heard nothing of these things you speak of, only the murder and the pillaging done in your name." Not that she could blindly trust the Banshee Queen's words either.

Sylvannas snarled, "Of course not. How do you think they keep you fighting against me? Certainly not with the truth of things, as one High Inquisitor recently discovered."

The Scarlet woman straitened, "Explain."

A long white eyebrow went up, "I believe you forget to whom you speak."

The Scarlet woman cringed, "Please?"

"We are all pawns. I was a pawn for Silvermoon, you were a pawn to Loarderon. We both failed to beat back the Scourge and now we fight it even if we die. There is a Druid your Scarlet companions have captured. She is a key to finding the cure. I am telling you this because you have more than just some land to regain if the cure is found."

With that the Dark Lady vanished. She neither asked for help nor gave an order. As the Scarlet woman Salira Porter returned to her base and found what the Banshee Queen had said was there the sensation of a pawn being slid forward into place was unmistakable.