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Breath of Wind, Heart of Fire	By : BurneHazard Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 3116 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Breath of Wind, Heart of Fire
- 2-The Barrens
- 1
- 2
            The challenging cry of a great lion broke through the peaceful rustle of wind through leaves and tall grasses. In a few moments, a second roar exploded in response to the first. Zhevra and plains striders grazing nearby snapped their heads up in alarm. A lone kodo ceased its lazy meandering to sniff the wind. Near the large beast, the pack of hyena that had been closing in on it froze in their tracks as ears snapped up to listen. Even the raptors watching over their nests turned their scaled heads so their gold and green eyes could scan the area for the sudden danger.

            Life in the Barrens halted for a moment as all creatures in hearing distance of the two roars froze to wait. The beats of large paws upon the ground was muffled by the tall golden grasses. What nothing could muffle was the sound of two bodies packed in solid muscle crashing into one another. Razor sharp claws tore through flesh like heated knives through butter as bared fangs were driven into yielding hide and muscle by jaws powerful enough to break bones. A herd of gazelle spooked and took flight as the great cats screamed in pain and rage.

            Powerful blows exchanged, the two broke apart. Rich red blood seeped plentifully from deep slashes upon the lion's golden hide. Strips of flesh hung free where barbed claws had ripped away that they might strike again. Likewise, blood matted down the fur of similar wounds sported by the dark velvet panther. Ears laid back, tails whipping the air, the two circled one another slightly, slowly, moving with the caution of any creature in a life or death struggle, looking for an opening as they took great lungfuls of air through parted jaws.

            Without warning, the panther charged in again, large paws swiping those deadly claws toward the lion's legs. The golden feline pranced backward, jerking its forelegs away only to lunge the other cat and drive for the vulnerable throat. In a surprising move, the panther twisted so the powerful jaws struck its bunched shoulders. Again fangs ripped open flesh. The panther released a roar of pain and actually flipped onto its back to slash its claws across the heavier cat's belly. The lion's fangs, caught against the bone of shoulder blades, were too slow to break free as the two tumbled.

            Scrambling, the two great hunters again broke apart as they got to their feet. Panting for air, the panther rose a little more slowly as the new wounds on its shoulders bled freely. Not that the lion fared much better as gravity pulled blood from the deep slices across its stomach. Again the panther attacked. This time they met chest-to-chest, powerful forelegs slamming into bodies as they engaged in a deadly embrace. Large paws armed in red-stained claws slapped toward eyes and ears in attempt to blind.

            Both strained against one another as those deadly jaws snapped closer to crushable skulls and vulnerable throats. This time the lion went down first, pulling the panther into another tumble as hind feet kicked to attempt and disembowel. Dust flew as the tumble became an all out scuffle of wild kicks, slaps and thrashings. Another roar of pain shattered the air only to be cut off. Everything went still. The cloud of heavy dust was quick to settle over the sudden stillness. Animals remained frozen as the tension lingered in the air.

            Heaving upward, one of the two fighters staggered back to all fours. Jaws clamped in a death-grip about a crushed throat managed to unlock with a faint pop. As the heavy body dropped, the victor slowly lifted a weary head. Giving a powerful shake, the panther sent the brown dust flying away from fur not matted down by blood that now appeared more a muddy brown-black than red. Tongue running over a bloodied muzzle, the feline took a deep breath and released a triumphant yowl that echoed over the plains.

            Now satisfied the battle was over, most of the creatures turned back to their business. The wisest of which elected to keep clear of the area where death had so recently settled. Sinking down onto its haunches, the panther began to lick blood from its wounds, cleaning away the mud and bits of grass and filth that aggravated exposed flesh. Little by little, the blood began to flow clean and red once more.

            With a heavy sigh, the panther hefted itself to all fours once more to glare with almost baleful golden eyes at the dead lion sprawled before it. Green light began to shimmer and twist about the survivor's paws as muscle shivered along the length of the battered body. The shiver became a ripple as the deep midnight violet fur shortened and thinned, being drawn into the body and revealing light purple skin and rag-tag colors. Bones shifted and twisted from one shape to another as muscle altered its placement and stretched to accommodate the rapid change.

            In a few seconds, the panther rose to its hind feet as the fur about its head changed from midnight to a rich indigo blue, spilling down the claw-marked back almost like water. Magic faded as the transformation completed to leave a bloodied kal'dorei where the victorious cat had once stood. Without pausing for more than a breath, the elf's hands rose into the air. Drawing upon magic, the druid summoned the healing abilities of Nature and guided them into the battered body. It was a little thing to withstand the pain as flesh was pulled back together and torn muscle was stitched into place once more.

            Blood was the only thing left marking the dusty purple-toned skin and slightly more ragged armor when the healing spell finished. Only then did the elf release a pent-up breath and almost collapse. Falling to leather-clad knees, the slender figure sagged more from weariness than complete weakness. In a moment, slender hands rose to push back the unbound fall of indigo hair and tuck it behind the delicately crafted long ears. Lines of brighter, richer violet marked the young druid's face like the stripes of a tiger, drawing the blue-silver glow of unemotional eyes into stark notice.

            "You brought that on yourself, bloody cat," was muttered in Darnassian. "I was just looking for the road, not a fight."

            Releasing a sigh, the druid rose slowly with a natural grace. Gloved hands fell to brushing away dust and stray bits of grass that had caught on the rag-tag assortment of leather armor. Despite the eye-sore of being so mismatched, every piece was tailored to fit so neatly it was almost like a second skin. Efficient too for the leather stretched across pert, round curves and provided more than adequate support for them. The top also bared a slim waist while the pants embraced the curves of strong hips like some long-lost lover.

            Once properly adjusted, the young female turned her attention back to the still-hot corpse. Stepping forward, she sank back down into a crouch and idly poked at the lion's rather torn hide.

            "Damn stubborn, senseless males."

            Drawing her skinning knife from its place in one tall boot, she went to the task of removing the skin. The blood that soon stained her gloves and smeared over her arms was nothing to her. In the process though, she found an old arrowhead and a single claw that might be worth something to a vendor. Stashing them away, she rolled the carcass over and finished removing the hide. Scraping off the excess gore and bits of flesh, she used the tall grasses to clean most of the blood off. Folding the skin carefully, she set it aside and cleaned the blade off.

            With her tool back in her boot, she picked up the two worthwhile treasures, snagged the folded hide, and rose to continue on her way. Given how her panther form was apparently some manner of open invitation for the felines of the place to attack, the risk of being a kal'dorei in what was one of the Horde territories seemed far less dangerous.

            Her name was Nálith Feralwind. As of yet, she was simply another unrecognized and virtually unknown traveler in the world. Well, perhaps mostly unrecognized. The name was quite well-known among her own kind both within and without of Darnassus. Her reputation for work done in Darkshore was also spreading tales. The Barrens however was a very long distance from such places of familiarity. In such a place, she was truly and undeniably on her own.

            The road was soon discovered once again as she came around the rise that ended one of the great plateaus of the plains. Stopping, she took a few moments to study the innocent-seeming stretch of hard-packed earth from behind the partial cover afforded her. No motion came from either direction save the sight of one lone strider ambling its way across and into the grass on the other side. However, such a thing could very well be deceptive.

            Lifting her head, she turned until the dry, heated breeze moving through the grasses caressed her face and made her hair dance over her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes as her long ears rose and twitched slightly. Upon the wind she could smell smoke, meat and bread, the stench of unwashed bodies...littler things without name that defined the differences in scents. And upon the breeze she also heard the tell-tale creak of crude yet efficient windmills and the steady drone of stone crushing corn and grain.

            She was close to a village. The innocent, empty road suddenly took on a whole new meaning for her. But was this village the Crossroads? Or was it that camp she had been warned about? Or was it even an actual village or just a farmstead or ranch? There were too many unknowns for her to be lured by the road. Falling back, she carefully slid out of sight of the path and sank down to her knees. Paper rustled as she pulled the worn and creased maps out of a pouch on her belt and opened them.

            After a few minutes of studying the hand-drawn items, she felt her brow furrowed in frustration. If she read them correctly, then there were at least eight different places she could be at. Four of those alone were near the Crossroads. Two were indeed near the camp. And there were two unnamed homesteads that had the drawing of a mill that were also possibilities. Maybe she should have broken down and spared a few silver for the compass the goblin in Ratchet had tried to sell her.

            Nálith finally released a muttered oath and folded the maps to return them to their place. Lifting her head, she just remained where she was to think. After all, she was a druid. Someone of her talents and skills should never be lost when surrounded by nature! And yet, she was. The wind spoke only of what it had just told her was near. The earth was lazy and dry and did not seem that inclined to share anything with her. It was next to impossible to ask a tree. There were so few and spaced too far apart to share many of their secrets with one another.

            "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're laughing at me," she muttered toward the elements.

            Despite her frustration, an easy smirk touched lips colored as rich violet as the stripes marking her cheeks and about her eyes. No one could ever tell her that nature had no sense of humor. And hers often mirrored it. With another sigh, she rose carefully and looked over the bank of earthen rock to the road once more. Still empty, still peaceful. Plus, she knew better than to stay where she was for too long. Thus her decision was made and she rose to approach the trail.

            Even if the ground was packed down too hard for tracks to show, there was the occasional sign of hoof, claw or paw that proved the thing was well-traveled. Turning in the direction that the breeze came from, she started off. It was actually a good while before she caught the sounds of voices. Pausing, she narrowed her eyes in attempt to extend their sight a little. The trick worked. She could see the vague blurs that hinted at structures.

            Immediately turning, she began to leave the road when out of nowhere, a horse screamed a challenge and something solid was bearing down on her. Without thinking, her turn became a dive forward. Hands hit the ground and she tucked to roll neatly to her feet. Grass whipped around her as she spun to face what was assuredly some sort of out runner or guard that had spotted her. The dagger was in her hand as if drawn from thin air as she crouched in a pose reminiscent of a rogue.

            What her gaze fell on made ice clench her stomach and caused her heart to race. Nálith faced a figure mounted upon a horse that was nothing more than bones and rotting flesh mostly concealed beneath a ragged, moth-eaten red cloth bound in chains, spikes and skulls. Insects attempted to crawl beneath her skin at the sight of this undead abomination with hooves that left behind an eerie blue-purple fire and mist every time they fell. Despite her elevated breaths though, no scent came from the rotting thing save that of hay and dry bone. The rider however had a scent that instantly drew her attention upward.

            Leather, venom, death. The leather was easily described by the golden tan armor virtually encasing his form. It clearly would have blended into the landscape without any trouble. He was a fighter if his visibly toned body was any hint, but not as heavy as the warriors she had seen. His head was covered by a hooded mask so only the light sun-gold skin and pale gold brows could be seen. It was his eyes that gave away just what he was. Venom green light. Eyes belonging to one of the sin'dorei. And eyes that were as hard and dangerous as the daggers resting at either hip.

            All this was taken within the span of a few racing heartbeats. Frozen where she was, Nálith realized her mouth was dry and cold sweat was tracing down her spine beneath her armor. Not only had she been caught by a member of the Horde, she had been caught by a very powerful one. She could tell as much by the mount he had. Its dressings and adornments as well as the way the ground released that ghost-fire at any contact screamed as much to her. Not to mention the fact she knew from more experienced travelers that such an unnatural mount was not the common one for a sin'dorei to possess.

            Of course she knew the lore, the tales and rumors brought by adventurers and travelers in lands far distant from the Home-Tree. If such tales were true, she was facing a threat that had managed to impress the Forsaken enough that he had earned one of their most powerful mounts. And that the cloth shrouding it was a faded red...such mounts were rewards for service in battle and quite difficult to earn. Not to mention the fact that this mounted rogue also wore a black tabard bordered in pale grey with the image of open, fanged jaws. The tabard of the Warsong Clan.

            ~Shit.~

            Her opponent's hand moved and she automatically jerked into a defensive stance. No way would she try attacking, even if this was no lion, she would not stand a chance! The hand only rose however in order for a slim finger to point right at her chest. Flinching minutely, she swallowed hard, trying to moisten her mouth. He was not a caster, the scent of poison and the twin daggers marked him a rogue, she was positive. Watching his eyes, she still saw his hand move to point down the road to the structures she had glimpsed.

            Before she could do anything, the hand moved back to point at her. The rider gave a purposely slow, steady shake of his head. His meaning was clear. She was not to go toward the buildings. Glancing in that direction took more nerve than she would admit even to herself. Looking back at the rider, she saw the hand settle lightly onto one of the blades at his hip. Very slowly, she drew one foot back. When he did not move, she shifted her weight to continue backing up.

            As the distance between them increased, she began to relax a little. Then, the horse stepped forward. It did not race as it had when it came upon her so suddenly, but clearly it was following. Hardly relaxed, she continued to back up. Her would-be opponent followed until they were well away from the road. The horse stopped and turned under the hands of the sin'dorei and after a few more cautious paces, she hesitated.

            "You're letting me go?"

            If the rider understood her--or Darnassian--there was no sign. Standing there, she was beginning to feel uneasy. Who knew what sort of sick game this rogue might have in his mind? When he finally pointed in one direction and made a shooing motion, Nálith ceased pressing her luck. Turning on one foot, she instantly called upon the feline within. Violet fur sprouted from her skin and armor as her hair became short and darkened to blend in. Mid-stride she dropped to all fours as the dagger in hand vanished and the panther took off at a dead run with long ears pinned back.

            As the wind rushed by in a roar, she listened. No hoof beats followed her. Gradually, the ice in her stomach melted away and the tingling feeling of insects under her skin faded away. Only then did she slow her frantic pace and come to a stop to look back. Empty plains met the golden glow of her eyes. He had not followed her. Why he had let her go remained in her mind, but she was not stupid enough to go back and try to find out.

            Quietly thanking Elune and several of the guardian stars by name, she waited to catch her breath before looking around. She blinked in surprise when she realized that her frightened race had brought her to the pride-lands above Ratchet. Whatever intentions the sin'dorei had...it was an encounter that brought her to more familiar territory at least. And quite possibly that little event was a not-so-subtle hint that she had better keep her time here short. Go back to safer areas until she was better prepared.

            Making her way down the steep banks, she prowled her way into the neutral port town at an easy pace. Running so hard and long tended to wind even a druid more in touch with the feline aspects than others of her class. Although it was true she could just use her Hearthstone to take her back to Darkshore and get on a boat from there to Darnassus, it felt too much like going backward instead of forward. After all, she had traveled all the way from Darkshore through Ashenvale and across the Barrens to get to Ratchet. Quite a feat for someone on their own in hostile territories.

            Shedding her feline form once more, Nálith strode easily around the corner of the little bank and through the little port town. Under the wary eye of the various bruisers ensuring that the laws keeping the neutrality of the place were upheld, she could finally relax. Orcs, sin'dorei and a few Forsaken were milling around. There were also several humans and fellow kal'dorei hanging around. That did help to even the feeling of some balance to the place.

            Double-checking her armor, she decided that repairs on it could wait for a while and instead of going to one of the repair shops, she turned her attention on seeking out the traveling salesman she had seen near the road when she had first arrived in Ratchet. She caught the nearly thigh-high goblin and his hulking ogre bodyguard just as they were getting ready to head down the road. Now here was where one of her main problems about leaving the Tree-Home arose.

            "Junk sell, vendor," she spoke in broken and accented Common.

            "Well, let's see what ya got, elf!"

            Ignoring what could be considered rudeness from a male, she began to open various pouches on her belt and tugging items free to place on the rickety little collapsible table used for such transactions. Only as the goblin began to look over the items did she remember the lion skin--dropped back by the roadside and forgotten. Frowning at herself, Nálith gave herself a mental curse then brushed it aside. There were always more skins to be had. It was not worth risking life and limb over for one torn up bit of raw leather scraps.

            "That's three blackened claws, one arrow head, two leather collars, and one pair of rusty mail bracers."

            Looking over the items, she nodded once. "What price give?"

            The goblin eyed her once-over before a spark of greed showed in his eyes.

            "One silver and five coppers for the whole lot. Not sure if those bracers are worth it, all that rust!"

            If he was attempting to cheat or sway her, he would be mistaken as she hardly cared either way. To her it was a fair enough price. Nodding, she extended her hand. He slapped the coins into it and shook to seal the deal. As he was tossing the things carelessly into the bag his giant bodyguard carried, she placed a hand on the rickety table.

            "Time is money, friend. If your dealings are done, move along."

            Without bothering to reply, she brought her other hand forward and calmly dropped the items she had withheld from him. The uncut stones chimed and rang as they struck the top of the table and bounced. Greed prompted the goblin to scramble and slap his over-large hands over the stones to keep them from falling off the table. Despite her dislike of the green-skinned creature, she found a smirk curving one corner of her lips.

            "Tiger-eye, Mal'kite. Good stone. Better price."

            "Fine, fine. I'll give silver for them. But if someone comes looking--"

            "Not look. Took hide." A slicing motion across her throat made the goblin gulp and look away without asking further questions.

            Raptors were puzzling creatures. Semi-intelligent, enough that they generally hunted in packs of two or more. Those that dwelled on the plains were also arranged into various primitive tribes. The crude feathers adorning their short forelegs attested to that. She had found that often the matriarchs had polished but uncut gems found about their necks. Then again, similar stones had come from the carcasses of plains striders. Apparently the giant birds were like the chickens humans kept domesticated. They needed rocks to help grind up their food.

            Coin again exchanged hands and satisfied, she stepped back and left the tradesman to fold up his travel-table and go about his business. Rather than head back into the little town, she turned to continue up the hill to the local inn. Ignoring the somewhat suspicious look given by a sin'dorei in seaman's clothes near the fence, she paused near the mailbox long enough to ensure nothing was there for her. The breeze caught her hair and made strands of it slide forward to tickle over her nose as she entered the inn.

            "Wazzup?!"

            Of course it was another goblin in charge of the establishment. Ears twitching faintly at his shrill voice, she released a sigh. Best to get this over quickly.

            "Traveler. Supply need."

            "Ah, well, of course I have the finest goods anywhere! What are you looking for exactly?"

            "Food. Drink," she replied.

            The inn keeper nodded and motioned her to follow him over to the solid wood cupboards. Fiddling with the lock ensuring no one could snitch the items inside easily, he opened it to browse the supplies. Standing behind him, Nálith rested one hand on her hip to tap her fingers almost impatiently on the wide leather belt embracing them. Not one to focus on the muttering from the inn keeper as he sorted through his wares, she turned her head to scan the place. Even though gloomy, her glowing gaze easily pierced the shadows.

            She did notice that the tables and chairs were set up front where light poured in through the doors. Of course travelers often came in hungry and thirsty. In the back of the one-floor place were wooden beds with straw-filled mattresses and rough linen sheets. Crude, but certainly softer than sleeping on the ground as far as most travelers thought. One of the beds supported the frame of a massive black Tauren. Although the bull was not sleeping, he was not watching her either. Probably meditation as the aura of his presence bespoke of something similar to her own familiarity with nature.

            "Here we go, these should suit you!"

            Attention returning to the goblin, she looked down to find he was holding up some water skins and a large round loaf of bread. Such fare was far more simple than what she was used to but food was food. Besides, as he stated the prices, it was also all she could currently afford. Silver and copper coins exchanged hands as did the items. The skins were tied to her belt as she did not see herself venturing out to hunt here immediately. Holding the loaf in one hand, she eyed the little green male intently.

            "Boat?"

            "Lookin' for passage ta Booty Bay, eh? Well, one ship's in. Still tied at the docks I think. Just go on down ta the Dock Master and he'll set you up."

            Nálith nodded to the inn keep and turned to depart. The moment she stepped outside, she had to squint her eyes. Even just a few minutes spent out of the harsh sunlight unchecked in the skies of the Barrens had been enough to let her eyes adjust to the more familiar and comfortable darkness. Just holding still, the druid kept her eyes closed until the light was no longer as painful before opening them again. There was a chuckle from the sin'dorei leaning on the fencepost. It earned him merely the twitch of one dusty purple ear.

            Heading down to the docks, she tore bits and pieces from the loaf of bread to chew on. Even if hardly as good as fresh meat, it was still food and she was rather hungry. True to the inn keeper's word, there was a ship tied at the docks. Goblins and various assorted seamen were moving back and forth loading and unloading supplies and crates. Keeping out of the way, her keen senses focused on the action until one voice rang out over the rest.

            "No! Those crates came off the ship. Put them over there and stop trying to put them back on!"

            Ducking beneath the stack of crates swinging from a crude wooden crane, Nálith braved the insect-like swarm. Thankfully her own natural grace paired with that of the feline spirit and her excellent senses saved her from more than a couple brushes with the sweaty human seamen and prevented what could have been a rough knock from a troll deck-hand hefting a sack of something that almost covered his entire head. As she had expected, near the center stood an aggravated looking goblin visible due to the old crate he was pacing back and forth on.

            "Dockmaster?"

            "What do ya want?!" he demanded irritably as he turned toward her.

            Before she could open her mouth, he snorted.

            "Another one, eh? Well, get on board the damn ship then and find a spot out of the way."

            The druid's eyes flared with icy light at the rudeness, but she said nothing. A smooth turn on one heel sent her back into the sea of motion. It was far easier to get through when her own temper was roused as even the hot, irritated workers sensed something that made two of them step around her without realizing it. Heading up the plank onto the deck, she glanced around once to note it was just as busy. Keeping near the rail, she made her way to a corner near a large crate secured above the deck. Leaning in the safe spot, she tore into her bread a little more meaningfully than before.

            It took another half hour before the last of the cargo was sorted and properly stowed away. After such activity, the cease of motion left the dock feeling eerily like one of the abandoned dwellings she had come across on her explorations of the Barrens. Finally, the dock master appeared at the base of the gangplank speaking to a human male in a bright red coat and beaten brown hat. Apparently the captain of the ship, the man turned to board and look the place over.

            He was rather short. Then again all humans were compared to kal'dorei. She noticed that the muddy brown hair and beard did vaguely resemble the styles some of the males of her race preferred to sport. Bread since long gone, Nálith left her chosen spot to cross the nearly empty deck and approach the man. He saw her before she drew near and turned to face her.

            "Ahr. And what be yer business on me ship?"

            She was not an expert but something about the accent he attempted to adapt was off. Of course she had gone off to kill a few pirates in her time at Ratchet. They spoke much the same way but something was rather off. Mentally shrugging it aside, she lifted her head before realizing she had to look down to keep eye contact and corrected herself.

            "Passage. Booty Bay trip."

            Nodding to that, the captain idly stroked his beard. She permitted him the liberty of running his eyes over her from head to toe...and made sure to clear her throat when his gaze lingered too long upon certain areas. Dutifully, he met her gaze again as she folded her arms across her stomach. The man nodded more to himself than anything before his hand fell away from his beard.

            "Charter trips don't cost ya coin, poppet. But ya stay outta tha way o' me crew. Below decks with tha rest of that lot. Meals be yer own concern fer tha next days. Don't need no woman causin' stirs with me crew."

            It took her a few moments to re-work his words. As if Common were not difficult enough with the misplaced syntax and confusing triple-meaning words, his accent was throwing her off even further. At last, she believed she got his meaning from his tone if nothing else.

            "Aye. Welcome aboard then. Get yer hide below."

            Even the outright insolence made her temper rise. Biting it back however, Nálith "dutifully" turned to head in the direction indicated. Humans could not help but be misguided in their ways, especially the seamen. Such had been her mother's opinion on things and now it was her own as well. They only upheld such a view in her eyes. At least there was some measure of respect given, however little it was.

            Below the main deck, things were far darker and quieter. Hammocks were strung between the main supports keeping the decks apart. A few had packs and other belongings on them though she saw no other travelers in the place. Picking out an empty hammock for herself, she gingerly slid into it. The things were always tricky but after the first couple of spills, the druid had gotten the hang of getting in and out of them easily. Laying back as it swung gently, she tucked one arm under her head, flipping the fall of indigo hair away and relaxing.

            One long leg dangled carelessly over the edge of the swinging net bed to sway in the air as the other rested upright, knee bent, boot supported on the wooden frame to the foot of the hammock. Nálith was quite attractive even for a kal'dorei. Her slim form held just enough curve to be the peak of feminine form while solid muscle clearly defined her arms and legs as well as her torso and hips. She was not some delicate flower but a battle-tested warrior that would never curl up or wither away in a breath of breeze.

            Staring up to the ceiling over her chosen bed, she simply relaxed in the cool if stuffy gloom. The smell of the sea was a powerful one. Briny, rotten, a stench of fish and old seaweed beginning to rot. Nevertheless, it was decidedly more pleasant than some areas she had been in. Calls and shouts came from above deck as well as the muted thunder of running feet. Despite the clamor as the ship prepared to set sail, the druid found herself gradually beginning to drift off to sleep.

            In a few days of sailing in favorable winds, the ship would reach the cove and the pirate town of Booty Bay. From there, gryphon-back to Stormwind. That would likely be the most wearying part of her travel plans. Despite the fact supplies and passengers were always fastened to the backs of the flying beasts, one dared not relax too much in case a buckle slipped or strap gave or some one decided to take a pot shot at the creature as it passed overhead. After that however, she would be in the heart of Alliance territory and in a place where her grasp of Common could improve.

            That thought made another smile come to the violet-brushed lips as a chuckle escaped her. Well, that reason made for a nice little cover-story on the side at least. Hopefully there would be more work for her in the human lands than could be found around the goblin towns. Such thoughts accompanied her into sleep as the ship began to rock freely upon the waves. Cream sails filled with the breath of a strong wind and the port town of Ratchet faded into the distance in their wake.
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Breath of Wind, Heart of Fire