Piper Williams operated on the same schedule every day. She rose with the sun, broke her back working the fields until evening, rode to Stormwind for a few drinks and then back home to pass out in her bed only to repeat the process the next day. There were exceptions of course. She had days where she bagged up her grain, days she went into town to deliver them to her buyer, and days when she worked on the house, but as a general rule, she was always found on her farm.Â
That afternoon, with the sun high and beating down on her, she paused. Hoe in hand, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked across the field to the old, dilapidated stable building. Her home was nicely rebuilt, but she hadnât so much as walked into that stable since sheâd been back. It was a monument to a moment she hated and a man she loved and she knew it would have to be torn down. But not today.Â
Her grip tightened around the handle of her tool and she let out a pained breath before simply throwing herself back into her work.Â
It was dark, several hours later and this restlessness in her soul was certainly not part of her daily routine. She sat perched on the edge of her bed, leg bouncing in anxiety. Her eyes kept going to the rising moon, full and thick and bright in the sky.
She should be asleep. ButâŚ
Instead she paced, she got herself a glass of water, she tried laying down and willing herself to sleep, she even tried reading a book. Though her eyes burned, begging to be closed, she couldnât shake the feeling of dread billowing in her chest.Â
Finally, she stood from the bed again and went to her window. The world outside was dark save for the moon and the stars above. So far from the city there was no light to dampen their glow and she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the stars.
They took her back to a time when she was truly happy. When she rested on a grassy hill, an older man at her side, the two stargazing and pointing at various constellations. It had been so long and yet⌠she could conjure his face with no effort at all. His dark, shaggy hair, the unkempt beard, and beautiful blue eyes called to her. But the sound of his voice was fading from memory.Â
Her eyes fell from the sky to the old stable, now aglow in the moonlight and she breathed in deeply. He called to her, even now, and with a strange sort of haunted purpose she walked out of the room, collected a bottle of beer and her shotgun and walked out into the chill of the Westfall night.
Bare feet stepped gingerly over the rows of upturned earth, crossing the newly-planted field and the soft grass beyond until she finally stood in front of the stable. All was quiet in the world as she slipped in through the ruined entryway, climbing over singed, broken beams of wood.
The legion had done a number to her farm when they came crashing through the area. Splintered wood and scorch marks were all they had left in their wake. Shafts of light spilled down from the fractured roof, illuminating her path, and at the end of the aisle was her destination.
A bare section of the stable, clear of debris, almost as if it had been preserved by some greater power. And on the wall, the discoloration of dried blood.Â
Piper approached the area with reverence. Setting her gun and beer down, she instead lifted an old oil lamp and lit it, holding the warm glow up to the dark brown stain. Her free hand went to lay flat against it, a loving touch, and she let out a deep, trembling breath. âHey dadâŚâ
