The steady throb behind her eyes woke Leda in the dead of the night. Their tent was blissfully dark and the sand was perfectly cool on her back. The waves outside were impossibly loud and her head swam, her vision blurring. She had pulled on her tabard and hoisted herself up out of her bedroll before she noticed Iyo was missing.
His bedroll was mussed up and a book lay open on the sand next to the blankets. Its spine was cracked and it lay open where her brother had left it. The letters looked familiar to Leda, but she couldn’t make anymore sense of them than Brock could. A whispered curse broke the eerie silence inside the druid’s tent. The panic set in. Her headache got worse and she stumbled to one of the poles supporting the thick canvas. As the Tauren tried to catch her breath, she knew, without a doubt where the headache had come from. She was going to kill Iyo.
Outside their tent, in the middle of the neat semi-circle the 43rd had formed was the largest fire of the military camp. During the day it had roared to almost six feet high after the enthusiasm of some conscripted Orcs from Ashenvale. At the moment, it was close to two o’clock in the morning and the fire had dulled to a hypnotizing pile of coals. Leda stood in the doorway of her tent, transfixed as the embers pulsed in time with the agony in her head.
“Can’t sleep either?”
Ren turned around on the log which served the tall elf as a bench, her perky voice disrupting Leda’s stare. The fire glinted off of the silk pyjamas she wore, embroidered beautifully with grinning fish. Cloe had made them for Winter Veil one year. Leda’s had little baby bears on them.
“You didn’t see Iyo come this way did you?” The elf shook her head.
“I’ve only been out here a few minutes. I managed to sneak in a couple of hours of sleep before Brock got restless. He’s still scared of the dark and Cloe had just turned off her lamp. I don’t know how she’s able to sleep with him in there, whimpering. I tried to calm him down, but it’s no use. He won’t even take off his armour.” The huntress sighed and threw a piece of driftwood into the coals. She’d had a helm made for him before they ventured into Naxxramas, painted it red and then fashioned a pair of leather overalls out of some scraps. Brock always looked so proud of himself in his armour, eventually it became his security blanket, pulling it on when he was anxious.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” The gorilla had been terrified of the dark for as long as Leda had known him, likely for as long as Rene had known him too. The blood elf had rescued him from voodoo Trolls in Stranglethorn Vale and his mother died shortly afterward. The gorilla’s fear of the dark was well founded and it was rare that he would let Ren out of his sight after the sun went down.
“Well as long as I’m up, I might as well help you look for Iyo.” Both women turned as a muted light shone through the canvas of Ren and Cloe’s tent. “He’s too smart Leda! He’s been watching me turn that lamp on and off for days now,” she shrugged, “At least he won’t wake Cloe - she sleeps like a rock.” Ren stood and brushed bits of bark off of her pyjama bottoms, “So, any idea where he went?”
Leda shook her head, “All I found was this.” She held up the book, her finger carefully marking the page. The elf took the book and crouched down near the dying firelight to read the cover.
“Interesting... But definitely right up Iyo’s alley.”
“Of course it is - it’s a book isn’t it?”
“It looks like it’s a theory about the little sunmotes on the island. Y’know, the little fluff balls floating around during the day?” Leda nodded, she’d accidently inhaled one while on guard duty a few days ago. It was less than pleasant. “Well this particular magister theorizes that they are a sentient race, attracted by the magical aura of the Sunwell.” Ren flipped the page, “Iyo had just finished reading the chapter on their social habits.”
“He’ll have gone to experiment then,” Leda sighed, “Can you track him?”
“It can’t hurt. I mean, there have been lots of Tauren walking around here the past few hours, but I’ll give it a shot.” She smiled, perking up now that she had something to keep her mind off of the worry for her gorilla. The two women crept past Mukesh and Seishougen’s tent, Ren giggling at Seis’ snoring.
They must’ve looked like quite a pair in the moonlight. Ren was tall, lithe and surprisingly clumsy wearing her silken fishie pyjamas and Leda was taller still, bulky and oddly shaped in little more than her tabard. Ren wasn’t able to distinguish Iyo’s hoof prints from the rest until they were reasonably far away from the beach. Here the grass was trampled down, forming a little path and off to the right leading further down the beach was dozens of boot prints. They were likely the result of the Forsaken sparring tournament Doogie had scheduled. Leda followed the huntress away from the sparring grounds, moving closer toward the harbour and the demons that guarded it.
“Are you sure he came this way?” Leda whispered. Her voice was not much louder than the waves lazily crashing up the nearby shore. Ren nodded and pointed at the faint outline of a hoof and then at the next footprint – the three toed print of a very large bird. As they rounded a particularly large tree they saw him. He was dangerously close to the reported patrol zone of several Infernals and surrounded by tons of the sunmotes. “Iyo!” she whispered, but her twin was too wrapped up in his new find. The shrewd bird eyes crossed as one of the little fluff balls landed on the tip of his beak. “Iyo! C’mon!” Still he didn’t respond. The Infernals would come walking up over the crest of the hill any moment now. Grumbling at her idiot brother, the Tauren grabbed a rock and threw it, hitting the Moonkin on the side of the head.
“Leda! You’ve gotta check this out. They’re the most amaz-“
“Iyo! C’mon! The Infernals will be coming by any minute!”
“Infernals? What Infernals? I haven’t seen any all night.”
“What do you mean, you haven’t seen any all night?”
“I mean, I haven’t seen any all night!”
The sunmotes scattered. A scream hung on the wind. The desperate blow of a homemade horn was cut off.
Tents were on fire. Ren, Iyo and Leda passed by the perimeter scouts laying face down in the dewy grass. It was chaos. Her untrained troops were defenceless against an ambush. So many were dead, still wrapped up in the blankets of their bedrolls. They hurried to the tents of the 43rd. The smoke made Leda cough. Her tent was demolished. Despite its innocuousness, they had struck here first. Mukesh and Seishougen were missing. Clothilde was gone, but so was her staff. A plaintive whimper stopped Rene dead in her tracks. Brock peeked out from underneath the charred remains of the tent, burns on his hands and cheeks flaring red and angry where the fur was missing. His red helmet was lopsided on his head.
A dragon soared overhead. It was nearby; Leda could see its brown underbelly. Black Dragonflight. It inhaled and the scorching flame of its exhale inspired another scream. A shiver ran down the General’s spine. Ren set her jaw, spinning her bow around her body in a familiar gesture. Behind her, Brock sniffled, investigating the new bandages on his hands. Blood had soaked through already. An arrow flew. Time seemed to stop. Another sung into the night air, followed by another and then another. Ren’s quiver stood empty. The dragon crashed into the ocean, its dark leathery neck peppered with arrow tips.
Another scream – a woman. Iyo cursed and brushed embers off of a couple of salvaged books. Leda’s eyes met Ren’s green ones. Dark locks swirled around the elf’s face. Smoke passed between them. Leda grabbed Iyo, Ren grabbed Brock. The 43rd was here somewhere.
They ran along the beach. Boots splashed in the gentle waves. Sparring grounds weren’t far. The attack was harsher here – calculated. Small craters dotted the landscape. A meteor landed inches behind them. The Forsaken were ruthless. Metal clashed against metal. Magical residue tickled her nose, enough for even Leda to sense. Brock’s eyes glinted fiercely, he cracked his knuckles. Iyo’s smirk. The worried wrinkle above Ren’s nose. A barked command, half of it curse words, floated past them on the breeze. Doogie. They entered the fray.
Iyo’s head bent with Seishougen’s. Frantic whispers. Leda left the stands where the casters had gathered. They rocked under her considerable weight. The transformation was easier this time. May have been the lack of clothes. A giant, horned bear waddled over to the edge of the battle. Sand was flung into her face. Eyes stung, she roared. Her claws connected with flesh, tearing it apart. Forcing herself to blink, she looked at her attacker. Mukesh. Looked an awful lot like Mukesh.
“What are you doing Leda?!?” He yelled over the din of the fight, holding his arm. Blood matted his dark fur, seeping from four parallel gashes on his bicep. Bear instincts took over. She stuck her nose in the wound, pink tongue gently cleaning away infection. Tasted like iron, bitter, warm.
“Leda!” A breathless Clothilde flung her arms around the bear’s neck. A howl from the middle of the brawl caught the priestess’s attention. A caress from her left hand, white light across black fur. Blonde hair streaked across the sky, white light in the gasping darkness. Mukesh’s axe deep in the belly of an Abyssal. She butted her head into his knee. Had to find the others.
Demons were everywhere. Tall Irespeakers, impenetrable Infernals, doomguards, and imps blocked her path. Four parallel gashes marked them all. A pirate hat – Em. Blades whirling around a Wrathguard. Poison-slowed reactions. Sand spraying into a bear’s nose. “Sorry ‘bout that L. Tried to tip it over the other way, but...” the undead shrugged. One piece, no injuries. Leda nodded, sticking her nose in Em’s face and exhaling. Had to find the others.
The centre. Had to be the centre. So bright, Leda squinted. Doogie jumped, sword hacking at an Infernal. The clang made her ears ring. Cloe behind her, both hands casting a different healing spell. A paladin’s shield severs the head from an imp. It lands face down. Leda was sweating, breathing heavy. A meteor landed on her left. Hisses of charred flesh, screams of the dying Troll beneath. She tackled an Abyssal, her weight toppling it. Hot. Too hot. Burning her paws to touch it. A frantic swipe of her paw sent its head flying.
Thunder rolled. Clouds churned above them. She could smell rain. The rain was cold, welcome. It ran down her nose and wet her fur. Lightning hit an Infernal in the chest. Leda dodged the splinters of rock easily. Cold winds blew in from the ocean. Freezing rain pelted at the demons among them, disappearing before hitting allies. Frost was stronger at night. Seis was at a disadvantage – Berzhula was not.
They fought for nearly four hours. Demons continued to funnel out of the Sunwell complex, heading straight for the sparring grounds. The camp had been abandoned long ago. The Horde forces were down from over 200 to a mere 65. They made their retreat through carefully constructed mage portals, shimmering in the growing dawn. The 43rd held the demons off as long as they could. The last portal led to Silvermoon.
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The portal closed behind Iyo, quick enough to ruffle his feathers. Satisfied her brother made it through, the bear pushed her way to the doorway of the circular room. Her cold, wet nose nudged its way into unsuspecting hands and despite the grave situation, she couldn’t help but smirk as they yelped. A Sin’dorei medical team had already been dispatched. They were sorting the remaining soldiers by severity. Around the robed legs of an elven healer, Leda could see make-shift beds on the floor in the room across the hall. As much as she hated Silvermoon, the blood elves knew their stuff.
The bear nudged her way back through the dwindling crowd and found an empty spot at the back of the room. Leda curled up, resting her chin on the floor, her eyes closing as she attempted to come up with a reasonable explanation for Thrall. A large hand rested on her back, gently scratching the back of her shoulder blade – Iyo had sat down next to her. His birth form always smelled like home, of Feralas.
Leda’s shrewd bear eyes flew open as a new smell entered the room – antiseptic and rose water. It was just a nurse, a quiet and rather plain (for a Blood Elf) nurse. She smiled too much and her voice was impossibly high, its squeak drilling into Leda’s tired brain as she confirmed they were indeed the 43rd. “This way!” she pointed and lead them, rather briskly for a bunch of injured soldiers, down a long hallway to a large cot-filled room. She was joined by several more nurses all wearing the same fuchsia robes and all armed with slim files and automatic quills.
Each member of the 43rd was called over by a different nurse and each member climbed up onto the ridiculously high cots and was handed a form to fill out. Brock and Leda remained in the doorway, settling themselves in for a wait. If there was anything in this world Leda was afraid of it was doctors (this included nurses and the majority of medical staff) and the white stuff on oranges. The bear was quite happy to remain on the floor with the gorilla and wait for the others to get patched up. She was fine, really.
Iyo, his feet dangling off the side of the hard cot, glared at the bear. His sister smirked back, grinning awkwardly in her bear form. “Excuse me,” he called and a nurse zipped over to the large Tauren. “You forgot one,” he gestured at the animals sitting in the doorway.
The nurse smiled sweetly, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t treat hunter pets. You’ll have to go downstairs for that. Once we’re done here we can take them both to see Dr. Terestin and he’ll patch them right up. Is yours the gorilla or the bear?”
Iyo chuckled, his deep laugh echoing in the large room, “The bear, of course – she’s my sister.”
“Oh dear, how horrible to be trapped in such an awful form. Shall I bring her a dish of water or something?”
At this point Cloe, on the next cot over, couldn’t contain her giggles any longer. Despite her broken arm and failing at filling in the ridiculous form, the little priestess was giggling away and the clipboard and quill lay forgotten on the hard mattress.
“No you don’t understand,” Iyo began again, “She’s my sister and she isn’t trapped in that form. Well, I suppose she is until she’s examined. If you could jus-“
“No no no! I am not trained to treat animals! If you could just fill out your form Mr...” she peered at the top of the parchment, where he had already scrawled his name “Savagedawn. We can take them downstairs later.” The nurse nodded once and walked away.
“They-they-they’re druids!” Cloe managed to choke out in between giggles, holding her stomach with her good hand. She snorted and continued, “Leda’s a general!”
“Oh my goodness!” The little nurse rushed over to Leda, her bright purple robes flying behind her. “Forgive me, General! I had read about, but I didn’t- I’m so sorry!” The bear could only brace herself for the onslaught. The elf’s tiny hands were everywhere at once. She patted and poked and prodded and Leda grunted and groaned and flinched. “You should be okay to shift back, General,” the nurse mumbled, her face red with embarrassment. The bear sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, a pathetic whimper escaping her as the bones moved, broke and reformed themselves in an instant.
The nurse tried to cover up her mistake by being impossibly cheerful; her smile nearly dominated the entirety of her face. Leda could only cringe and carefully make her way to the next available cot, sliding herself up onto the hard surface. It hurt her tail. “I just need you to fill out this form, press hard because there are 3 sheets of parchment it will have to copy onto,” the nurse giggled uncomfortably, pressed a quill into the Tauren’s hand and zipped out of the room, leaving the 43rd alone.
Leda looked down at the clipboard she’d been given. Several pieces of parchment, each dyed a different colour, had been fastened to it. She couldn’t tell what language it was in – Thalassian or Orcish, but she couldn’t see any pictures. Not one clue. Iyo sat three cots away and he looked at her with an expression of pity, clearing his throat and jerking his head to one side, telling her to come over. Leda glared at him. No one pitied her and she certainly was not going to tell the people she respected most that her most difficult challenge of the day was filling out this ridiculous form. Leda’s stubborn side won out and she picked up the quill.
Admiring her artwork, she stabbed her quill into the mattress next to her thigh and was suddenly aware of her lack of clothing. Leda hadn’t realized she spent the entire battle in nothing but her tabard. She fought the sudden urge to shift back into a form which didn’t require clothing and instead attempted to come up with a good enough excuse for Thrall.
By now, most of the forms had been set aside on the little tables between beds. However, they all remained silent, keeping to themselves after the exhausting night. Seishougen lay on the cot next to her, arms above his head and his eyes closed, apparently not caring that his entire stomach was visible. The bottom half of his pyjama top had been ripped off, along with his left sleeve to make bandages. Leda suddenly remembered a couple warlocks wearing the bright red silk embroidered with flames.
Doogie was also finished the ridiculous form and had started to remove her armour, piling it up neatly and carefully in the corner near her cot at the front of the room. She looked no worse for wear, although the warrior had been holding her head earlier and she seemed off balance. Emi was snickering as she finished her form, her illegible writing nearly filling the entire piece of parchment. The rogue looked the same as she had when they left for Quel’Danas, bouncing on the cot and swinging her legs – still full of energy.
The nurses returned, filing in past Brock and carrying rolls of bandages and bottles in various shapes and sizes. Each cot received a nurse and the room was filled with the sounds of clothes being ripped, hisses of pain and in Ren’s case – a yelp, followed by a loud proclamation that her nurse’s hands were cold, dammit! The nurse assigned to Leda’s care was the same rather plain nurse that had fetched them from the portal room. She smiled benevolently and began the poking and prodding all over again.
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The 43rd remained in Silvermoon. They had been released from the infirmary a couple hours later, each sporting pristine white bandages somewhere on their person and each attempting to preserve their decency by holding up the ripping pieces of their pyjamas. They were assigned to a swirling tower, remarkably similar to their quarters in Orgrimmar. As they filed into the marble tower, Leda held back. The claiming of the beds was much less violent, much less hurried. Emi (with only a patch of bandage on her right forearm, where second-degree burns hid) was still full of energy and yelled down from the top of the tower that her room was up there. Leda sincerely hoped there were enough rooms so that no one had to share with the hyper rogue. Cloe (broken arm, fracture wrist, 8 inch long gash on her back almost hitting her spine and various burns) and Ren (sprained left arm, cuts on face, 2 broken toes and various burns) claimed the first room up.
Doogie (concussion, burn on left thigh) fell gratefully into her bed on the second floor and was joined by Iyo (burnt fingertips, 4 inch gash on side) to make sure the warrior didn’t slip into unconsciousness. Mukesh (4 parallel gashes on bicep, burn on right side and ash inhalation) and Seishougen (first-degree burns covering 85% of body from overextension of fire magics) claimed the next room. Leda was glad there was someone who could sleep through the mage’s infamous snoring.
The little Undead mage next to her peered into the last room. Two beds had already been turned down and a change of clothes rested on each. Leda hoped they got her size right, but doubted it when she considered Ren and Cloe’s impossibly thin frames. Berzhula grinned at her, “Not tired. I’m gonna go check out the city! It looks super cool and I think ... I think I might’ve saw someone invisible sweeping up the street! I’m gonna go ask ‘em their name. Wanna come?” He had suffered only a couple burns on his shoulder and back and like Em, was still bursting with energy.
“I think I’ll pass this time Berzhula,” Leda sighed, trying to look disappointed. “I’m just gonna take a nap. Can’t do much really with these bandages on.” She held up her hands, which had been entirely wrapped in bandages – the nurse hadn’t even left one finger out. Apparently third-degree burns were serious business and the palms of her hands would likely scar. “You go without me Berz, but let me know who it is ok?” The mage nodded enthusiastically before skipping down the sloping, circular ramp.
Leda lay down on the soft mattress, just a few minutes rest was all she needed. Ah, but the sheets were so soft. Just pull up the blanket a little bit... The elves might be a little too prissy for her taste, but they knew their bedding. Just a couple minutes and then she’d go check to make sure Iyo hadn’t let Doogie fall asleep.
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