An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Sylvanas’s ears were pressed back as they marched through the undergrowth almost silently despite the heavy cover of fallen leaves. They twitched sideways any time she heard a sound she wasn’t already expecting to her. Her eyes, however, darted about rapidly in the hazy, early morning light. She had been on edge since her mother’s departure. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt normal. Nothing, aside from Velonara’s presence beside her. For that, at least, she was grateful.
They had passed the point where she expected her mother and her officers to be waiting for them nearly half an hour ago, yet she remained steadfast. None of her emotions - her fear, her immense worry, were displayed outwardly.
Until she saw the dark outline of horses in the distance and held up a hand to still the other rangers who were filtering, silent and deadly through the trees of their forest.
