~* Author's Notes *~

I realized in this chapter I never described the scout in any detail except to say he's a bit younger than Kayas. Since it's going to be a while before I get back to editing earlier chapters with this type of missing information I'll just take the liberty here.

FFN: Fix your on-site editing tools to actual save changes, please.

~*~ Chapter 42 ~*~

~ South Gate ~

Kayas

The South Gate was locked and barred. No one, short of some crazy engineer with some high explosives was getting threw that. Which was fine with the Druid, just as long as the Warlock got there sooner rather than latter and helped seal her escape. He was late however, not given the swiftness of speed that a Dishu form Druid and the long-legged scout possessed.

As she sat beside him in her feline form, stealthed and swiveling her ears around for any signs of trouble, she noted more closely the scout's manor of dress. The leather was soft and supple, meant for a youth, and cut in a very becoming way. The jerkin, sleeveless and with a high neck, fell to low pointed V in the front and back. It fell halfway down his hips, hugging the contours of his body like a glove. The breeches of the same leather and in the same shade were buckled about the waist with black leather. Silver frog closures went down the front ended with metal tips at the end of the V. The pants hugged him in a very nice way, though the length of the jerkin prevented her getting a good look at his assets on ether side.

Pitty. He's not bad on the eyes, once you get past that … hair. Who let you do that… Said hair was pulled back in long braids, dark aqua in color, and each braid looked to be clasped in a different bone closure. Trophies? That's one way to display them I guess. How … Horde… of you.

He was barefoot, as most Kal'dorie were like to be, though she suspected this had more to do with his preference than knowing it was a cultural thing as well. From this close distance she saw that his pupils were not white as most Kaldorie were, but brown as the woman in her dream had been; his glowed silver and hers had not. She could see them both in his face, the horned Druid and the Shadow Sister. Saw them in his hands and his feet… but not his power.

The bow was held with reverence, as if it would shatter if it touched anything as foul as the ground. From his stealthed position he positioned it at the ready, prepared to skewer anyone who came near with one of his arcane arrows. Whoever taught him to shoot arrows made of arcane energy obviously didn't know the difference between Kaldorie and Highbourn. Their hunters, scouts and… less scroupulous militia were allowed only base use of magic to enhance a weapon that already existed. Enchanting an arrow with a touch of the arcane energy to add a crippling sting was one thing, but to forgo the arrow itself in favor of pure magic?

Maybe he does know? She doubted that, however. If you could have seen them at the ruins, those ones who use magic… what it did to them… what it still does to them… She wanted to quit thinking about it, lest her nightmares of the Priest come back in real time to haunt her as they had in the Plaguelands. Now was not the time for educating him on something he may well be aware of and choosing to ignore. After all, he lived with Forsaken so what did they care if his eyes went from silver to yellow like their own? Like hers.

They waited.

"So," Kayas startled him with her sudden shift and voice breaking the silence, "What brings you to a Scarlet enclave this time of night?"

His words were harsh, clipped, guarded "Rescuing my father."

She had seen his parents in her dream; he was as Kaldorie as she by birth, if not moreso. But when a man does for a feral child everything that Serz did for Caspin he got to be called father and that was that. "And me?"

"He wouldn't leave without you."

You would have left me here. She shifted back into her feline form and moved away from him to the other side of the gate. It hurt. There was no lying about it or disguising the truth. It hurt like regret and rejection. Not that she were unaccustomed to either of these, but there was no getting used to it. Especially not when it came from someone who was so damaged. If I were a Priestess I would know how to heal your heart. But I'm of a feral soul I do not heal those kinds of wounds.

"Look!" He snapped at her and when he had her attention forgot what he was going to say. Finally after a long moment of staring he said, "Your crazy. All you Night Elves are crazy. You're judgmental," his voice was raising, "you think your way is the only way," he climbs to his feet, bow in front of him like a shield against her, "you think you're the only people in the world who ever made a mistake and had to live with the shame. You locked yourselves in your forests for ten-thousand years and didn't come out till the world was about to burn down around your ears! You're arrogant," his voice was echoing off the walls – her ears were up and stiff- "you think your cause is the only important one in the entire world and what's more," a lean muscled, bare arm shot out to point accusingly at her, "you're a hypocrite! So don't sit there and judge me when you're no saint yourself!"

Where all that had come from she had no idea. Her people were the oldest race in the world and the most powerful: no one could contest that. The Highbourn had been arrogant and they had paid for their sins. It was their fault for continuing to tamper with magic. Her people, the Night Elves as the mortal races called them, had purged themselves of most things magical and lived off the land in tune with Elune and Cenarius.

Someone had hurt him and hurt him badly. This kind of anger didn't come from growing up in a loving home, or as close to one as a Scourged servant of the Banshee Queen would provide. It bothered her that she didn't have answers. Her dream had no shown her the things that he himself did not even remember. Had he ever known his mother and father? Surely he must have had some kind of contact with another of their kind in his short life…? If he had his impressions would certainly not be that they were rank, arrogant and hypocritical.

"Not me." She whispered, shifting back into her upright form, but staying stealthed in the shadows.

"What?"

"The name he gave you. It means 'not me' in Darnasian."

There was an absolute moment of stillness; an instant of perfect harmony where neither was on guard and neither was on the attack. Sometimes two people can only exist at two ends of the extreme but every now and again those ends can tip and for a brief second they even out again. And then it tips back.

"No, it doesn't." The though was dismissed too quickly. It wasn't the translation he rejected, but the translator.

"Yes it does. You were saying it over and over again when Serz caught you in the Plaguelands. Cas pin Cas pin. Over and over. Not me, not me."

The arrow on the lax bow string shimmered in response to his snap of anger, "You don't know anything about the Plaguelands!"

Her look was incredulous, "The fel I don't! The dreams I had-"

For the briefest second his eyebrows went up in grief before coming back down over his nose, "I don't care about your stupid dreams, you weren't there!"

She realized then that he had no idea what a Druid really. He didn't know about the Emerald Dream or Cenarius or Ysera or Elune. He didn't know that any Druid who had a dream was as good as having it happen to them. In their dreams they were there, it was happening to them. Even though they would awaken and it would have not been them in their waking life it had been them in their dream. Dreams became memories for Druids and it didn't matter if they were their own in origin, they became part of the Druid. If they dreamed it, it happened to them.

This was understood, so very understood in her society.

She had been there. It had happen to her.

"I don't know why Serz hasn't found you a proper teacher yet, but being this old and absolutely inept in the knowledge of anything Kaldorei is appalling! Your mother should have stayed in Silithus or at least left you there with your father when she went to Andorhal!"

The scout's eyes got as big as gold coins, his mouth slowly dropping open. The bow was up, aimed and fired almost as fast as she could move. The stones behind her head exploded with shadow energy, sending dust out into the rain.

I though that was an arcane bolt?! The sudden switch from one magic to another caused panic to bloom in her stomach. Leaping behind him, temporarily lost in the air because he couldn't track her paw prints, she landed. With a quick turn a paw lashed out to knock him on his knees. The bow splashed to the ground.

He cursed something fierce in Gutterspeak and rammed a foot back into her chest, just about stopping her heart on impact. Her feline wheeze was accompanied by a cry of surprised as all ten of her claws sunk into the back of his leather jerkin and he was pulled backward. The leather was enchanted to reduce penetrating effects so he wouldn't bleed for her… from that.

Trying to roll away didn't help as his lower body was held down firmly by the light black bear now sitting on his legs. Her moist nose nuzzled the back of his neck but the metalwork on his collar would prevent any damage her teeth might cause.

For a moment she was annoyed.

"Now, now, what's all this!"

Kayas and the scout both snapped to attention and flushed guilty. Serz Huzad, Mr. Meow and dozens of Forsaken children were catching up to them from the West Gate. In their frenzy the fighting pair hadn't even heard them approaching.

"Get off of me," the scout shouted, red faced with shame and upset enough to burst into tears at any moment.

"What did you say now?" The Warlock narrowed his eyes at the scout. How eyelids managed to squint when there was no eyeball to squint over would forever puzzle the Druid.

Kayas jumped to her feet and allowed the scout to get off the ground. She leveled an accusing look at his caregiver, "Why hasn't he been educated in Kaldorei culture? He doesn't even know about the Emerald Dream!"

For his part the man managed to look both stunned and then guilty, "Well you see, m'lady, that was sort of why I brought him to Tirisfal. I was sort of hoping…"

"Me?!" Her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut, "Certainly not! Neither of you have the right to ask that of me, no Horde does!"

"Hypocrite." The scout's eyes were on his bow, busy cleaning the mud off with delicate care. "I'm sorry I dropped it." He apologized to Serz. His voice was hollow, alone, as if all the fight had suddenly left him.

"Nevermind that," the Warlock dismissed it as if it would make his ward's dour mood better, "we have bigger problems." He was pointing in two directions at once.

Kayas followed one line of his bony arms and looked threw the gate to the crowd of people coming. Hundreds of them by the look and a good third of them were children. The one in the lead had armor and weapons but none of the rest did. The rain was letting up some, making it possible to see more than a few yards away.

The scout's back snapped strait, bow at the ready once more and once again raining down black arrows. The Druid's gaze followed the other length of arm and saw what had pursued the Warlock here. Though slower than anyone who could think on their own, they nonetheless moved with a steady gate. All their eyes were locked on her. The children, who had before remained silent and anxious, gasped and pointed again, this time behind the Druid.

Now the ones who had been headed to the East Gate were lumbering along. Why they had suddenly changed directions was unknown for certain but the Druid had a feeling it had a great deal to do with the billowing smoke and fire covering a good half of the compound and the unarmed populace headed towards the back gate.

Oh, Goddess on High, what have I done? I meant to spare people becoming undead, not damn hundreds more in their place! Deep down inside she knew this was punishment for breaking that promise she had made almost a lifetime ago. When humanity and magic mixed, generations paid the price.

Even as the scores of Scourge moved in from the left and right there came the sounds of more from the forests in front of them. On the south end of the compound was a flat plane and on the far end of it was a chapel dedicated to the Light. Normally a place of private reflection for anyone wanting to get away from the confines of the compound it glowed softly in the distance, creating a golden halo in the rain. Around that chapel, far enough away to avoid getting burned by the Light marched an even larger number of Scourge. There were even two abominations with them, outlines clearly visible as they towered over the rest.

The gate began to open, the sounds of chattering Humans mixing with the sounds of clattering and moaning minions of the Lich King. They were too far off to see beyond the gate and by the time they got there the Scourge would be there as well and it would be too late to close the gate. The Lich King was the greatest threat in Tirisfal Glades, marching his armies threw the nightmares of the Forsaken and Scarlets alike.

"Inside!" Kayas yelled and ran for the open gate. The irony of fleeing back into the compound she had just escaped from was not lost on any of them.