#arkturas

From the amazingly talented @vaard, here is Arkturas!

Thunder grumbled as the courier urged her talbuk up the sopping road, hooves spattering mud and water.  The talbuk made a disgruntled noise at her urging but galloped on.  High above a sentry peered over the battlements at the figure far down the switchbacks, and called back for the stables to prepare for the talbuk’s arrival, as the gate guards mustered under the protection of the old stones of the gate.

Arkturas looked up from the missive, spotted with rain that still poured outside the window of his office. “This was direct from Stormshield?”

The gate officer nodded, standing stiffly at attention. “Orders were to disperse separate couriers to all Alliance forces on least time travels.  The storm grounded air travel over the valley, so she made the remainder of trip on talbuk back.”

Ark grunted, and rolled the parchment up. “Request that Captain Holbek join me in the my office, and then make sure the messenger and her mount are adequately tended to.  The ride must have been miserable.”

The officer saluted and strode out of the room.  Moments later, the sound of a crisp knock came from the door.

“Enter,” Arkturas called, pulling out a bundle of supply paperwork.

The human captain entered, drawing himself to a comfortable position of attention. “You called for me, sir?”

Instead of answering, Arkturas tossed him the message, returning his attention to gathering more papers from their files.

“The Legion,” Holbek breathed. “They’re attacking again.”

“Aye, and we will be there to stop them,” Arkturas growled. “How long to quit the fort?”

Holbek blinked. “A week, I should think.  Getting passage sorted out back to Azeroth will take at least that long, and…”

“I’ll take care of that,” Arkturas said, waving a hand.  “Get the quartermasters together with the company commanders.  You have three days.”

*   *   *

Despite the near panic the deadline had caused the officers, three days later the grounds of the fort were a barely ordered commotion as wagon and after wagon was filled to capacity. Arkturas was filled with quiet pleasure and satisfaction as he listened to the orderly movement of his forces, overlaid with good-natured banter amongst personal friends that had gathered to see them off. He knew he’d hold the memory of this evening as a shield against the trials ahead, but even that thought couldn’t darken the happy moment.

Keialaar turned to him, Cherynaa held on a hip with, her brow furrowed with sudden irritation. “Can you take her?  I need to get my bag.”

He reached out to take the excited girl, tossing her up into the air to her wild giggles, before settling her on a shoulder.  “Certainly.  Go on.”

The mage opening the portal stood back as the glowing ball finally shimmered into being, swiping a sleeve over his glistening brow.  Ark settled Cherynaa more securely on his shoulder, turning to the still happily bickering group to start them moving.  “Vandrysse, Lietta, after you.”

As Keialaar trotted up with her satchel, his guests began stepping into the personal portal to take them to Ironforge. Giving his wife a smile, Arkturas took his place in the queue. Moments later he placed a hand on the surprisingly solid edge of the portal, waiting for the familiar sensation...

Something is wrong.

Normally, the transition of teleportation was little worse than the abrupt sensation of falling as one started to drift to sleep.  This time, the sensation grew, and he felt as though every part of him was being pulled from the other.  Silently, he howled as the agony grew, overwhelming him.

And then it was over, as suddenly as it began.  He cracked open his eyes and saw nothing.  And infinite, swirling blackness of the Twisting Nether surrounded him.

Dimly, he could feel his body gasping for air, though his pain addled mind couldn’t quite grasp what was wrong.

Then Cherynaa, writhing and clutching at her throat, drifted into his vision, and the cold winds of terror swept the confusion from his head.  Twisting, he snatched his daughter close, drawing together his will, and bending it upon his surroundings.

Air, air, airairairairairAirAIRAIRAIR!

The sudden rush of air thumped against his eardrums painfully, and he could finally hear the twin choking gasps as he and Cherynaa dragged in precious oxygen.  Moments passed as they regained their breath, Ark barely able to restrain himself from crushing Cherynaa against him, the surge of fear of losing her only slowly dying.

“Daddy?” Cherynaa whimpered, fists curled in the fabric of his tabard as she shook in the shelter of his arms. “Where are we?”

“Just a little lost,” he said calmly, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, burying his own emotions for her sake.   “We’ll be out soon.”

“I wanna go home!  I want Keia,” she said tremulously, tears staining the cloth over his chest as she buried her face against him.

Murmuring wordlessly, he stroked her back, mind racing as he poured over the unpalatable options.

Rescue, unlikely.  Air will only last so long as concentration is maintained.  Days, and not many of them, before sleep inevitable.  Hearthstone.  Would it connect?  More worryingly, would it draw attention?

He pulled out the rune inscribed stone from his belt, eyeing it.  He’d never tried using it outside the confines of the material world before, but then, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

With a grimace, he thumbed the activation rune.  Thankfully the Nether was brimming with arcane power, and the runes lit with a cheery glow as it gathered power. But even as hope rose in him, his nose caught the whiff of brimstone, and a familiar sickly green glow gathered around him like phantom claws.

He had but a moment to feel the helpless rage of a father as the trap reached out to enclose them, before the magic snapped tight like a fist, and darkness descended.

Consciousness returned slowly, dark veils slowly lifting from her mind.  Mikania feigned sleep as she roused, listening carefully, delving into her memories to try and recall what had happened.   The vision of her daughter's face, nails lengthening into cruel claws swam before her mind’s eye, and she barely restrained herself from twitching.

My own daughter, she thought despondently.  She had long since grown used to denying tears, but in that dark, quiet moment, it was hard to dam them up once more.  I turned from the Light for you, and you cast me aside.  And I love you, even now, I…

The gentle whisper of a page flipping sent a frisson of alarm up her spine.  She hadn’t felt the presence of any others nearby.  Carefully she cracked open an eye, peering through her lashes, an icy fist of fear clenching her stomach as she saw who else was in the room.

The Harbinger, Arkturas, sat on a simple wooden chair at the foot of the bed, leafing through a large book, seemingly oblivious of his guest.  She had known he was an intelligent man, but she hadn’t expected him to put all the scattered pieces together so quickly.  Somehow, he had trailed her to the shrine, and prevented Sakena from finishing her off; she desperately wished the fog over her memory would lift, but she was familiar enough with trauma to know that holes such as the one she experienced were common.

Regardless, she could not stay here.   She gathered her mind, focusing her will, pouring fear and intent and a mother’s devotion into a weapon.  Her strike would have to be swift, to incapacitate... or kill in the first breath.  There would be no other chances.  Then she could escape and resume her life’s work; destroy the Legion from within and reclaim her daughter’s life.

Another page flipped and she struck; a slender spike of energy lancing towards the large Draenei.  She felt it slip past his mental defences and a surge of triumph welled up in her chest as she pressed harder;  Finish him!  When her attack slammed to a halt, she gaped.  She was one of the strongest mentalists left living, and nothing she had seen of the big Harbinger indicated he had any skills in that arena.  But as she watched, the carefully honed magic of her assault shattered like glass under a hammer, and before she could regroup, she felt herself grasped, like a kitten held by the scruff.  

A chill presence slid into her mind, hard and unyielding like a lonely mountaintop, reaching into the vault of her memories as though he belonged there; as if it were his right.  Desperately she drew her defences together, the unaccustomed feeling of naked vulnerability making her clumsy;  shame and fear quivering in her belly as she felt that implacable force test them.  Dimly, his amusement echoed in the vaults of her mind, and then with speed equal to her attack, she felt herself cast back out and into her body.

She jerked, a dull headache pounding behind her temples as she recoiled on the bed, pulling herself up against the headboard.   He is far more dangerous than they thought.  Oh gods what have I done?

Arkturas simply flipped another page. “Ah, I see you are awake.  I trust you slept well?”

Mikania drew herself up. Her only hope was to stick to her story.  “By what right do you detain an Anchorite of Karabor?” She demanded, proud of how her voice did not quaver.

He looked up from his book and pursed his lips. “That is, admittedly, something of an uncertain situation, since technically speaking, I do not have standing with this version of Karabor.  I am given to understand that my order perished long ago in this timeline.  But I feel that I am right to apply Sword Law here. Mikania.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the Sword of Argus.  He was correct, the order had been eradicated, long before coming to Draenor; but the name- and the authority it represented- still held a great deal of weight.  Her masters - her mouth tightened at the thought - had celebrated when the last member of the Sword had fallen to their talons… she had had no idea that Arkturas was a member of that vaunted order.

She was so wrapped up in thoughts of the Sword that it took a few moments for her to realize which name he used; her fear turning into terror.  What else did he glean from my mind before I was able to shut him out?

“My name is Melis,” she said, voice trembling, her knuckles tightening until they whitened on the blanket. “Once the temple learns of what you have done here, they…!”

“Will do nothing,” he said, cutting over her implacably.  “No one in the temple knows you are here, Mikania.  And even if they were to find out, what would they care for a broken tool discarded by her Sargerei masters?”

He set the book aside, rising to his hooves.  At his full height, he towered over the bed; an intimidating man under normal circumstances.  In her current position, he was terrifying.  “You attempted to take from me what is mine, Mikania,” he rumbled, eyes flaring.  “How many of our people have you stolen, in service to the Man’ari?  How many lives have you destroyed?  You will tell me what I wish to know, and you will tell me now.”

Terror and rage wrestled in her chest, and she snarled, reaching for the Shadows to strike out. He knows nothing of loss!  He has no idea what I have done!  The prices I have paid!

But as she called, his eyes blazed with renewed fury, and she cried out as a choking tide of anguish rose in her.  She could see the faces around her;  people she had known, people she had killed.  She heard their pleas, their cries for mercy, reliving their last moments with gut-wrenching clarity.  No!  Oh gods please NO!  I had NO CHOICE!

She had no idea how long the attack lasted; it felt like hours.  When she came to herself, she was exhausted; her throat felt raw from screaming, her palms stung where her fingernails had dug into them, and her eyes felt swollen and scratchy from sobs.   

The Harbinger’s voice rang with iron finality above her. “Your resistance will find no success here.  There is only repentance.  I will return once you have had a chance to recover, and we will speak further.”

The sound of his hooves moved to the door, and as it opened, he paused. “Your anguish was great indeed, Mikania.  It may be that salvation is not beyond you yet.  Consider it.”

Her only response was was silence, and after a moment, the door shut behind him.  She tried to steady her breathing, but after long, battling moments, she surrendered to the tears, weeping for her loss.  I have failed her.  Sakena, my darling girl.

 "You're sure you'll be all right out here alone?"  Her escort looked around, rubbing the back of his head.  The shrine didn't have much to offer by way of amenities, and the calling the accommodations 'primitive' was quite charitable.   The young Peacekeeper had spent enough time around Karabor to know that most of the temple's denizens preferred their comforts.  "It's most of a day's ride down into Elodor.  I could stick around, if you need..."

Melis smiled, shaking her head.  "Everything I require is here."  She swung out of her saddle, stifling a groan as her hooves struck the paving stones.  "I can send down to the Sha'tori if I need anything."    You cannot help with my troubles, young man.  All that awaits you here is death.

The young Peacekeeper hesitated, glancing around again, taking in the stillness of the mountain glade.  Everyone was short-handed.  Anchorites were being sent all over Draenor for purposes ranging from cleansing demon-corruption to the more mundane administrative duties in remote settlements; and there weren't enough Peacekeepers left to watch over them. 

"Arrangements have been made in Elodor for my departure,"  Melis murmured, leading her talbuk into the tiny corral set aside for the shrine's use.   "I will spend a day or two in the village, then join a caravan to Embaari."  She glanced back at him as she unsaddled her mount, hiding her satisfaction as she felt his misgivings slide.  It's a quiet area.  There have been no reports of demonic activity around Elodor since the beginning of the fighting.  The village isn't far, and you have a long ride back to Karabor.  You would rather spend it in a comfortable tavern with a pretty girl and a bottle than up here with a chilly priestess old enough to be your grandmother.  With the ease of millennia of practice, the thought was inserted so smoothly he had no idea it wasn't his own.  

"Well, I guess if there's nothing else you need, I'll get going,"  The young man murmured a word to his elekk, scrambling up into his saddle and gathering up his reins.  "Lightspeed, Anchorite."

"Arkanon poros, Peacekeeper."  The words were lost as soon as she spoke them, whisked away by the mountain breeze.   She watched him lumber down the road, swaying with the ponderous gait of the elekk, struck by the sudden wish that she was going with him.  With a sigh, she hefted her gear in her arms and ducked into the small hut that served as a hostel for visitors to the shrine.  Her mouth twisted; she didn't want to be here.  If she had been given a choice, she would have gone to Auchindoun to finish things, then vanished through one of the portals to this other world, this Azeroth.   But she had her orders, and the mask she wore for Karabor had to be maintained.  For a little longer.

 I should have tried harder to get to the Harbinger.  They will be angry at my choice of target, but--  She shuddered, remembering Arkturas's piercing stare.  Her attempts to fog his mind had been about as effective as tying loose ribbons together in a high wind.  She had given up after several abortive attempts, afraid he would become aware of what she was doing.   The Rangari bitch was the best choice of the ones available.  Veriinya had strong ties to Karabor, making her the most logical secondary target.   They cannot take her from me again. Now she's away, and I can find her once this is over... tell her the truth.   They'll have to settle for Seriol's bastard.

 She began unpacking her saddlebags, setting her misgivings and fears aside.  Time had run out; there were preparations to be made, she would need to be ready.

  "Anchorite Melis?"  Peacekeeper Commander Ishnia blinked at her communication unit, surprise coloring her voice.  "I'm sure you can understand, Harbinger, that current circumstances make it difficult to accommodate requests for specific Anchorites."  

 "She was treating my sister-in-law for trauma,"  Arkturas forced himself to sit back in his chair, to keep his voice even and casual; difficult when he wanted to reach through the communicator and throttle the woman on the other end, to make her understand the urgency of his request.  "Veriinya responded well, but has suffered some relapse; we have concerns about her mental state, and we'd prefer to work with Anchorite Melis, as she's familiar with the case."   

 Veriinya.  Ishnia's eyes flicked to her desk, thinking of the portrait hidden deep in the drawer.  "One moment, Harbinger."  She reached for her data tablet, fingers dancing across the surface.  There it was - a call for... Good Gods, Veri... what did you do to yourself?  She read the scant details quickly; severe trauma and acute depression.  Acidic guilt roiled in her stomach.  Would you have done this, if I hadn't sent you away from Karabor?    Her fingers tapped a few more keys, but she couldn't access Melis's treatment notes - not surprising, as she had no reason to need them.  A press of her thumb closed the record and opened a new one, pulling up the assignment roster.  "I'm afraid Melis not at Karabor, Commander.  Since the fighting died down, the Council thought it would be a good time to resume the circuit.  Melis was one of the Anchorites that was assigned a district; I have way of knowing her precise location, just that she will be ministering to some of the remote settlements in the north of Shadowmoon."  Her fingers tapped at the keys.    "There are a couple of shrines that haven't been tended since before the fighting began; it would make sense that she'd use those as a hub and travel out from there.  I'd be happy to send a message with the next dispatch package to Elodor?"

 "That would be greatly appreciated, Commander,"  Arkturas sighed, shoulders tightening.  "Thank you."

 The call disconnected without further pleasantries, and the big Harbinger got to his hooves, his eyes turning to the map of the valley hanging on the wall.  Eight weeks since his wife had vanished without a trace.  Three days since they had discovered the spell embedded in his garrison... and defeated its guardian.  Melis was involved.  He was betting Keia's life on it.  Resolve welled up within him, cold and hard; he would find Melis.  And she would tell him where Keialaar had gone.

 "Andren,"   His finger pressed the comm with deliberate precision.  "I need a map the locations of all of the shrines Karabor maintains around Elodor."  He paused, his tail lashing with slow deliberation,  "Notify the others.  We ride at first light."

It was late in the evening when they arrived.  The hair on the back of her neck prickled, as it always did when an Arcanist did a working.   Hooves scraped against stone, and she could hear the rustle of clothing as they stepped into the hut.  She knelt with her back to the door, imagining them taking in the scene;  stone walls and floor, a pallet stuffed with straw.  An older woman kneeling before the tiny altar, saying her prayers before she slept.  Incense curled through the air, the spicy scent of walnut and cedar filled her nostrils, the spells she had prepared ready for use.   I am ready for you.

"You've disappointed us, Mikania,"  The familiar voice was gently chiding, like a teacher scolding a favorite pupil.  Melis flinched.  Oh gods, they sent him.  That means...  Slowly she turned to face her visitors, the color draining away from her face as she saw who was there to hold her to account.  The man she had once thought she loved more than anything, and beside him...

"Hello, Mother."   A young woman stood beside Melis's old lover, shaking her head to toss long silver hair down her back.  The resemblance was strong; Seriol's hair and eyes, Melis's delicate brows and strong jaw.   The unpleasant smile curving her lips was all her own, and Melis felt the first thrill of fear trickle down her spine.  

"Sakena," She rose to her hooves, struggling to keep her expression neutral.  It all came back to Toraliir and Sakena.  They were where it had begun, it seemed appropriate they were where it would end.

"I'm afraid it's time we parted ways; you had a task, and you knew the price of failure."  Sakena extended a hand, her nails elongating into claws.  "I admit, Mother, I've really been looking forward to this."

Melis took a step back, grief making a knot in her throat.  Everything I did, I did for you.  She had known someone would come.  She had known that she might not survive the night.  But that her killer would be her own child... hatred for them, for what they had forced her to become, surged through her blood.   Shadows began gathering around her hands, her eyes flicking to Toraliir.  "I have, too."  If I die tonight, you come with me, you lying bastard!

Tagged By: @vaishino

Full Name: Arkturas

Gender and Sexuality: Male, heterosexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: Draenei, Eredar

Birthplace and Birthdate: Argus, sometime in the winter

Guilty Pleasures: Romance novels.  Taking his coffee and tea with cream and sugar

Phobias: No phobias in the classic sense.  He dislikes being expected to mingle and chat with strangers at larger social functions.

What They Would Be Famous For:  He’d be a military figure of some note.  AU!Arkturas probably on the level of Napoleon, or Rommel.  MUArkturas significantly less so.

What Have They / Would They Gotten Arrested For: Well, there was this thing about treason to the Alliance at one point that thankfully was checkmated.

OC You Ship Them With: @keialaar

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Probably some Horde character?

Favorite Book Genre:  Romance.  Probably military fiction, though he’d read them for the cringe of dealing with armchair generals.

Least Favorite Book Cliche: Rousing speeches overcoming severe military disadvantages.

Talents and/or Powers: He’s an accomplished jeweler and enchanter.  His martial abilities are prodigious.  His abilities with the Light are similarly high, but he’s very limited in his healing abilities.

Why Someone Might Love Them:  He’s extremely loyal and phlegmatic.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: He doesn’t go out of his way to accommodate adversaries.   

How They Change: He’s, through contact with a set of enemies that some peace is possible, has grown far less war hawkish than he has been previously.

Answering this in chunks, because I’m wordy.   Part 1 - Keialaar singing headcanons!

[ Keialaar has a passable singing voice.  She will never pass for a professional, but she can carry a tune and does a decent job.    She hums to herself while she works, and likes singing to/with Cherynaa and Ark.   Out of the current timeline/plot, this scene fits sometime before the Tanaan expeditions.]

Hush-a-bye, don’t you cryGo to sleep little babyWhen you wake, you shall have All the pretty little horses

Cherynaa had resisted bedtime more than usual that evening, wheedling three extra stories out of her adoptive mother while Arkturas finished up some paperwork.   Over protests that she just wasn’t sleepy, Keialaar hefted the child into her arms and carried her upstairs, settling into a comfortable rocking chair they had retrieved from the homestead in Nagrand.

Keia wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, tucking it around Cherynaa’s legs, crossing her own beneath the little girl’s tail.  Gods, she’s growing so fast.  I won’t be able to fit her in my lap much longer.   Her hoof pushed at the floor, setting the rocking chair into motion, her voice lifted in a soft, sweet alto.

Blacks and bays, dapple and greysCoach and six little horses

Cherynaa cuddled against Keia’s shoulder, her nubby little horns tucked beneath her mother’s jaw.  As the song went on, the child relaxed, her body growing increasingly heavy in the paradoxical manner of children.   Keialaar rested her cheek against the little girl’s hair, stroking the bundled body in her arms from shoulder to hip.  The song was Gilnean, she thought; she couldn’t remember where she had learned it.  Thankfully ‘talbuk’ replaced ‘horses’ seamlessly.  One lullaby led into another, and eventually when the last note faded, the only sound in the room was the creak of her chair and Cherynaa’s deep, even breathing.

“Finally got her down?”   Arkturas was leaning against the doorjamb, fatigue in his eyes.

“Mmm. Fought me every step of the way.”  Kei straightened from the child-sized bed, smoothing a hand over Cherynaa’s hair before joining her intended in the hall, closing the door behind her.    

The big Vindicator took her hand, and in companionable silence they climbed through the keep.  The garrison was still awake; they could hear voices down in the barracks and the scrape of hooves and boots above on the watchtowers.  But they were reassuring; sounds of safety, of normalcy.  

Arkturas led her up onto the roof; one of the first things Keialaar had done upon the keep’s refinishing was to take advantage of a wide point in one of the allures.   She had an old wooden bench brought up and positioned just outside the arcading that led back into the keep; a nearby chest had blankets.  It was one of her favorite places for quiet. 

“Sing for me tonight?”   His voice was a quiet rumble, startling after several minutes of silence.

Keialaar wriggled into his lap, echoing the way she had held Cherynaa earlier that evening; a blanket wrapped ‘round his shoulders then folded around her, her head tucked beneath his chin.   The rest of Draenor seemed very far away and distant, leaving her safely cocooned in the arms of someone she loved.

Chi mi'n geamhradh anns a’ ghaoith  (I see the winter in the wind)Chaneil an sneachd’ fada bhuainn    (The snow is not far from us)Sgothan dorch’ ’s na craobhan ruisgt   (Dark clouds and the trees losing leaf)Tha an oidhche nochd fuar    (The night is cold)

Shaoilean fhein gur ann an de (So often it feels that it was only yesterday)Bha teas an t-samhraidh ‘gar leaghadh (The summer heat melted us)Fad an fheasgair air an Dun (All evening long out on the Dun)’S tu laighe leisg ri mo thaobh (And you lying lazy by my side)

This one was different; a song of a love lost- a song of longing and memory.  On the surface, the lyrics spoke of a lost lover, but popular opinion called it a lovesong to the loss of Argus.  Beneath her, Arkturas sighed and folded his arms more tightly around her. 

’S iomadh oidhch’ a rinn sinn suiridhe     (Many nights we loved)’S iomadh oidhch’ a rinn sinn gair  (Manynights we laughed)’S ionadh oidhch’ a bhithinn a'smuaintinn   (Many times I thought)Gum bitheadh tu comhla ruim gu brath   (Thatyou would have stayed forever)

Chan fhan a’ ghrian fad na bliadhna    (But the sun never shines all year)Cha sheas an uair mar a tha i    (Timewill not stay as it once was)Dh'fhalbh thusa gu'n a'cheo   (You leftfor the city)’S dh'fhag thu mi le mo geamhradh    (Leavingme to my winter)

As the last note faded, she fumbled for his hand,lacing her fingers tightly with his, needing the reassurance of his solidityand warmth. 

Arkturas didn’t speak; there was no need forwords.  He pressed his lips against hertemple.   They would never see Argusagain; their homeworld was long gone. But they both knew, sitting in the darkness, that whatever change thefuture brought, they would face it together.

[Songs are available for listening here andhere.  Cherynaa’s lullaby is “All thePretty Horses”; if you can find the Boiled in Lead version it’s my favorite  (although Calexico’s version is good!) and the second is “ChiMi'n Geamhradh” by Runrig.  Read thetranslated lyrics here!]

@draenei-harbinger

(X)

The garrison was festive.  Now that Sha'raan was over, the Draenei that had spent time on Azeroth celebrated the holiday of their allies, feasting on wild fowl and game brought in by the hunters.   Keialaar didn't much care for the Bounty holiday; it felt frenetic, gluttonous and over the top.  She longed for the quiet reflection of the Sha'raan celebrations... although honesty compelled her to acknowledge those had gotten rather boisterous in the wee hours of the night.

She watched from an upper window of the keep, her eyes following a familiar and beloved form in the courtyard below as Arkturas moved among the men, bending to speak with them here or there, making himself available for complaints and greetings alike.  It was a policy she approved of; a commander known to his men was one they could respect.  She smiled as Cherynaa darted across the square, hitting her father's knees with shouts of greeting.  Without missing a beat, the tall man tossed her up at his shoulder to the little girl's delight.  She clung to his crest as he bent to continue his conversation with one of the dwarven sappers the Sword employed.

Keia turned away with a sigh.  She was grateful that her loved ones were safe.  Even with events in Tanaan having gone the way they had... there were many that were not as fortunate.  Veriinya was safe on Azeroth, Arkturas would not go to Tanaan himself, and Cherynaa had a child's delight at being with her parents; she did not seem to miss the homestead in Nagrand.    But the same could not be said for the former Rangari herself; she longed to return home, to think of her herds and leather, to sleep beneath the stars up on the ridge at the cabin.

She moved around the room restlessly, picking up small objects then putting them down again.  She had not slept easily since returning to Draenor, and at first, she had attributed it to homesickness.   Now... she was less certain.  Dreams of her father plagued her in the wee hours of the night, and there was no one to whom she could turn.  Veriinya, old gods of Argus willing, would never know who he was.   Arkturas liked Seriol, and thought her hatred irrational.    And even if he didn't think that Seriol was a wholly different man than the monster that had sired her...   She closed her eyes, shuddering.  The scenes that played out in her mind every night featured her husband-to-be almost as much as her father.   It had been a relief when he worked into the wee hours of the night.

She bared her teeth, anger and irritability flaring.  Whatever Miriamaa had done... it wasn't enough.  Seriol would never leave her be; she'd never be free of his influence.   She paced the room, her tail lashing like a cat's.  She had thought, upon her initial return to Draenor, that there was an easy way to deal with him; a blade in the dark before he knew there was a threat...  She had let Arkturas talk her out of it, but that had been before the dreams began.  

Suddenly the solid walls of the keep felt confining, claustrophobic, as if the room was growing smaller.  The pressure increased until she felt she must scream.   Opening the window didn't help; she needed the sky above her head, and needed it desperately.  Her hooves beat the wooden floors in a staccato rhythm as she strode through them, her pace speeding until she was nearly at a run.

"Captain!"  She collided with Andren before she could catch herself, rocking the artificer back on his heels.  "Are you unwell? Cap- Keialaar?"  He reached for her arms, the expression on her face alarming.

"Don't-!  Don't touch me!"  She dodged, panic flaring anew.  She liked Andren; he had been incredibly patient with Cherynaa, and they worked well together.  But the idea of any man touching her right now, when she felt like this... nausea roiled in her stomach.  She shook her head and darted away.  

"CAPTAIN!"  His voice drifted after her as she ran past the stables, ignoring the cries of surprise and greeting of the people she pushed aside.  The guards at the front gate were too startled to do more than stare after her as she dashed past.   She ran until a bend in the road took her out of sight of the gates, pausing to catch her breath.   She thought being outside would help, that she would be able to breathe, once she was outdoors.  But the sensation of someone breathing down her neck wasn't alleviated; if anything, it was growing more intense.  

It took every bit of woodscraft she had ever learned to obscure her cautious descent through the forested slope.  The mountain trails were the first place anyone would look; she was known to haunt them when she needed the sky above her head, and the thought of Ark's worried and pitying expression was more than she could bear.  

She ran for hours, stopping only when her legs threatened to give way beneath her.   She hadn't made it terribly far down the mountain; when the wind shifted, she could hear voices- hopefully still celebrating...  hopefully not searching for her.  By her estimation, she should have a full day; perhaps two.  It wasn’t the first time she had gotten restless and tired of being penned up behind stone walls... and her regret at leaving without a word was engulfed by the strange compulsion that drove her out of the fortress.

Exhausted, she curled up at the base of a tree, rubbing skinned palms over her knees.  She would rest for a few minutes... then move on.  Auchindoun was to the north; she could feel it like a lodestone in her mind.  He was there.  But so too Arkturas would be, as soon as he realized she was missing.  I need space.  And quiet.  I need to figure out what to do.   I need...

She didn't finish the thought, sliding into darkness.

Ark groaned and stretched, quietly.  This deep in the Tanaan jungles, it wouldn’t do to attract the attention of the intermittent Bleeding Hollow patrols.  Around him the members of his command not slated to go on watch were getting set to turn in, and so Ark set about to join them.

Some time later, his armour set aside and covered, he started to slide into his bed roll.  But he had no more get a hoof inside then he recoiled backwards with a muffled curse, drawing the attention of the soldiers nearby.

He picked up the roll, giving it a perfunctory shape, and a small shape tumbled free, landing in a tangle of leg and fur.  It scrabbled around, gaining its feet, and shaking the dirt free of its softly glowing green fur.  A tiny wolf pup sneezed, and then squeakily growled at the towering draenei above it.

“Light above, Commander, get back, the wee thing’ll savage yer fetlock!” cackled one dwarf, a chorus of soft laughter sweeping the camp.  He resolutely ignored them, reaching down to grab the pup by the scruff, deftly evading the snap of its tiny teeth.

He watched it for a moment as it struggled in his grip, debating simply killing it, disposing of one more fel corrupted creature.

But then he sighed and walked to the stores, pulling a chunk of dried meat.  Instantly the pup ceased struggling, staring at the meat, licking its chops.

“Hungry?” he chuckled, setting them both down near the fire.  Instantly the pup was on the meat, attacking it with a ferocious hunger.