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There were kids all over the place. He'd come into town to sell some of the metal he'd mined up (it sold well, too) and found himself hip-deep in green-skinned orc babies. Everywhere he looked, there was a kid. Carefully skirting a few, Tanglewood fought his way up the rise into the Drag, his windserpent coiling around his arm. Shockwing didn't seem too pleased at the looks some of those kids were giving his tail.
"I'unno either," he muttered in the winged snake's direction as Briarclaw pressed against his calf. "But it's looking like we're not gonna get any peace today." Keeping near the wall of buildings and hopefully out of sight, the elf walked through Orgrimmar toward the Valley of Honour. There were fewer children in the Drag, and it was also a relief from the desert temperatures that, like it or not, he was getting used to. "S'kinda chilly."
Briarclaw made a soft rumble that almost sounded like a laugh. It got her half a kick from Tanglewood's right boot. "Shut up, you. We ain' all got fur."
The air heated again as he came out into the valley proper, skirting to one side to enter the rangers' sanctum - hunters, they called them here - past Xao'tsu. "What's goin' on?" he asked the troll quietly, aware of a much louder clamor to the south. The stone walls weren't doing much to fade it.
"Is down at de orphanage, mon," said Sian'dur, peeking around the corner. "Is de week for de children lef' behin' by da war. Not ever'one goes out comes back."
"Oh," said Tanglewood more quietly.
"You know 'bout dat, don'cha?" said Xao'tsu as Sian'dur laid a three-fingered hand on his shoulder.
The cat butted his knee and Thorn nodded. "Guess I should do somethin'."
"Be good of ya."
After an awkward nod, Tanglewood, the windserpent, and the cat all headed down the street to the south for all it made the only one of the lot with two feet consider turning right back around. It was crowded down here, full of people who could do more for the children than he could. He crept through the fringes of the crowd until he found an orc woman who spoke to the gathering one at a time, pressing a child's hand into a visitor's each time. "Uh," he broke in, "'Scuse me, but this is--" He reached into his pocket for a few of the sparse gold pieces he had.
"Good, elf!" the orphan matron said to him. "Good for your people to come and help. Here!"
A small, warm, green hand was placed in the one that had come up from his pocket in stun.
"This is Rekhal. He'll be a good one for a man of the wild like you to show around. Hah!" After boxing him on the shoulder - which got a wince - she turned away from Tanglewood to a Forsaken woman who was already smiling (was that a smile?) at a little orc girl.
"But I'm not a--" His protest was cut off.
"ZUG ZUG!" Rekhal gave his hand a tug. "Wow, look at your armour! You look like you've been in some fights! I'm gonna fight out there someday!"
"...Bet you are, kid."
"There's a big battle goin' on in Warsong Gulch," the boy continued as he tugged Tanglewood through the crowd. "I want to see it!"
"Hey!" he protested - "look, a warfront's no place for a kid." Rekhal looked at him accusingly, making the elf backpedal - "I mean. Even a kid as tough as you."
"I could take you in a fight!"
"...I don' doubt it."
Satisfied, Rekhal nodded. "So what's your name?"
"Tanglewood," he answered. This was going to be a long day.
---
It was bad enough when he had to fight to keep a cat on a windrider. Now he had a cat under one arm, a snake around his neck, and a kid under the other all while he tried to keep hold himself. Rekhal was growing a habit of screaming happily whenever the windrider would catch an updraft. Tanglewood was becoming certain that this storm in Ashenvale would make him as green as the orc before he managed to prove what he had for breakfast over the cat, the kid, and the windrider all. "Sit still," he scolded between gasps for air.
"This is fun!" Rekhal cheered. But finally the post there in Ashenvale was in sight, and the wyvern started to circle down to a neat landing.
Of course, once they weren't flying, the rain stopped. Thorn had the forethought to keep his muttering under his breath despite Rekhal asking what he'd said.
"Okay," Tanglewood told him as he led cat and kid toward the road. "You wanted to see battle. Figure you could see the staging ground without it bein' too much trouble."
"So why are we in Ashenvale? Aren't we fighting the elves?"
"Kid. In case you've not noticed..." He motioned up toward his ears.
"...I mean the purple ones."
After rolling his eyes, Tanglewood nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we're fightin' the purple elves. So we can keep rights to this end of the woods."
"So this end is ours?" Rekhal looked around with big, curious eyes. In the distance, there was the sound of axes and shredders and overseers shouting orders.
"Mostly. There's an Alliance camp out a little further, before the Azshara border. S'called Forest Song. Here, follow the south fork." Briarclaw nudged Rekhal in the right direction.
"If it's just a camp, why ain' we knocked it out yet? We're stronger than the stupid Alliance." The kid was good at petulant. Thorn had to give him that.
"'Cause we've got a camp on the other end, out on the Zoram Strand, that they've not knocked out yet. S'kinda the balance of things. Stay on this side. There's wood things beside that lake - see, there's one movin'." Tanglewood pointed over the bank.
Rekhal's eyes grew wide. "Wow!" he shouted. "That thing's huge!"
On cue, the great elemental turned its eyes toward elf and orc child and Tanglewood felt a chill run through him. "...Kid. Run. Now."
"Huh?"
With the groaning of wood and vine, it lumbered over the terrain toward them.
"I said RUN!" Tanglewood shouted, and gave Rekhal a push. "Briarclaw!"
The cat sprang into action, running on silent pads before sinking claws and teeth into the behemoth's legs, climbing it with the limber skill all felines posessed. Reflex had Tanglewood's bow already out and an arrow set to the string. The woody body would take too many shots to be easy, but he drove them in. He blinded it first, and then took careful aim, imbuing his arrow with the arcane magic that he could only barely touch. Steadied, enchanted, the arrow flew straight into the heart of the beast, exploding once it hit. It fell with a half-wet thud onto the ground, a now-lifeless mess of vines and moss. Briarclaw shook off her paws as she came back to her elven friend, nursing a few bruises that she'd gotten before her master had distracted the creature.
"Good girl," he whispered, stroking her head with a healing touch. "Best girl ever."
"That was better than any battleground!" Rekhal cheered.
"...Didn't I tell you to run?" Tanglewood asked without looking up.
"I'm an orc! I'm made to fight. I was going to take care of that thing if you didn't!"
"Yeah, next time, I'll let ya," he chuckled as Briarclaw purred under his hand.
"Well." Rekhal scuffed his toe against one of the stones in the path. "You can help a little."
---
It never rained in the Barrens, so the ride down to Ratchet hadn't left him half as queasy as the one through Ashenvale. The orcs at the staging ground for the battle against the purple elves - damn kid, he'd always think of them as the purple elves now - had been nice enough to give them a safe spot for a bit of a rest and answered a few of Rekhal's questions. The kid had been impressed by the number of marks of honour some of them carried, and Tanglewood was sure their egos felt a little better, given how many times the word 'wow' had been said.
But a few things in the world were inevitable, and sunset was one of them. The last few warm moments of the night, he let Rekhal play in the shallow of the bay while he prodded some clam meat and a couple of root vegetables into a stew.
"You live here, Tanglewood?" the kid asked after recieving a bowl of stew and sitting to eat. Briarclaw and Shockwing curled nearby, each one chewing on their own meal for the night - one with a haunch of plainstrider and the other a chunk of bread.
"Yeah," he answered, mouth half-full. His feet were propped on the porch railing outside the room he rented from the goblins from time to time. "Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes I stay up at Sun Rock. Sometimes down at Camp Taurajo."
"Tauren are big."
Of all the things the kid could'a said. "...Yeah," Tanglewood agreed, "but there's a lot more to Tauren than big. Most of the best hunters are Tauren. An' they respect what they hunt."
"What do you mean?" Rekhal was managing to talk between giant spoonfuls of food that tended to leak down his chin.
"I mean... they know the value of it. They don' just kill 'cause they can. They fight, but they gotta have a reason. They fight to survive, or for food or shelter or to save their land. They don' just go out there and kill 'cause it's there to be killed."
The kid looked to be listening to him. Surprise that that was, he took it for the opportunity it was. "Fightin's fun, but it's not all there is to life. There's... good food and the seashore an' listenin' to the drums in Orgrimmar. Some people are called t'fight, and that's what I used to do. I used to be a soldier."
"Fighting in the Horde's army is the highest honour," the little orc said, looking at Tanglewood like he'd grown a second head.
"Yeah," he said, "if that's where your path leads. An' the Tauren get that. If you're supposed to be a fighter, then fight. But if you're supposed to be a baker, bake."
Rekhal's nose wrinkled. "I don't wanna be a baker."
Tanglewood shrugged. "Then don't."
"What do you do now, if you're not a soldier anymore?"
"...I'unno. Not much, really. Go out and mine out some metal to sell in Orgrimmar. Hunt for food and sell the skins. Help people out when they need it."
"That doesn't sound very exciting."
"Well, m'only just gettin' back into things. Who knows what I might end up doin'."
"Like fighting that vine thing! That was great!"
Tanglewood laughed despite himself. "Now, look - tomorrow you be more careful."
"What are we doin' tomorrow?"
"I dunno yet."
"Oh, I know! I heard about these people still fighting a war up... up north somewhere. They're called the Reds!"
Reds? Wait a second. "...You mean the Scarlets?"
"Yeah! Them!"
Dammit.
---
"I shouldn't have brought you here," Tanglewood murmured as he guided Rekhal through the hills under a sickly green sky. He hated Tirisfal Glades. The whole place gave him flashbacks. Briarclaw was scouting ahead for both of them, now and then sending Tanglewood images from her viewpoint - proof the path was, as yet, clear.
"But this is important!" the boy said, looking up at him just to be sharply shushed.
"Quiet! They don't need to know we're here." Bad enough they were there to start with.
With Briarclaw's paws leading the way, orc and elf found a post behind a rise. They laid on their stomachs to make their profile all the lower. Below, the road was guarded by the Scarlet Crusade, wearing their tabards marked with red flame. "What are they looking for?" Rekhal asked in a sensible whisper.
"Us," Tanglewood answered. "See, this entire building is theirs - it's called the Scarlet Monastery. They fight against the Scourge, but they've... gone a little overboard." He didn't mind the fight against the Scourge. Hell, he was all for it, as long as he wasn't expected to be on the front line. "They think everbody who isn't with them is against them."
"Do they ever go down and try to kill the Forsaken?"
"I dunno, kid. C'mon, let's get out of here."
"...Tanglewood..."
"What is it, ki--- Oh." As he turned over, he noticed that there was a sword point at his throat, and Briarclaw was quietly growling to one side. "Dammit."
The human woman held out her hand palm-up and spoke demandingly in a language that used to be native to Tanglewood's ears. His mind fumbled for some sort of answer even as he started to offer his bow. He gave her a weak, apologetic smile as her hand closed around the bow's shaft. "Uh. Sorry, I... Um. ...Goibon uden lo?"
She looked at him in utter stun half a moment before, with a thud, her eyes rolled back and she fell sideways onto the ground. Rekhal stood behind her, on a rock, holding a rock.
"Great job, kid," Tanglewood said honestly as, as quickly as he could, he retook his bow.
"I told ya I could," he said proudly.
"Now, hurry. We've gotta make sure she won't follow us."
"Are ya gonna kill her?" Rekhal seemed eager for it, but Tanglewood shook his head.
"Nope. Even worse." With his skinning knife, he slit the sides of her tabard, then cut it in half vertically. One strip went to tie her hands, the other went to tie her feet, and the long band from Tanglewood's hair went around her head as a gag, holding in a wad of barely cured leather scraps. Then, gathering Rekhal under his arm, he and Briarclaw both hit the ground running.
"What does 'goibon uden lo' mean?" the boy asked while Thorn carried him away from the Monastery and toward the hill where the zeppelin docked.
"I forgot. But it worked, didn't it?"
"Where are we going now?"
"Away from the Plaguelands!"
Hours later, the familiar orange sand of Durotar was underfoot, soon turning into the stone-paved streets of Orgrimmar. Tanglewood felt like he could breathe again. He and the boy passed Saurfang with a respectful nod only to find themselves face to face with a goblin. "Hey! Hey, buddy, how about some sweet stuff fer the kid? Still got plenty, fresh from the salt flats!"
"Huh?"
"Ice cream!" Rekhal shouted. "Tanglewood, will you buy me some, huh? Please?!" he pleaded, leaving Tanglewood to look at the Goblin's wares.
"Fresh, huh?" he asked. "You mean fresh strawberry-flavoured milk corrosion?" The container of ice cream resembled nothing so much as pink pond scum. Even Rekhal didn't look too thrilled at the sight.
He tugged Tanglewood's hand again. "Can we get some real ice cream? That isn't in a puddle?"
"...Why not. Even if it does mean going on the windrider again."
The orc boy whooped and ran toward the sky tower. Tanglewood, by now resigned, followed.
---
"How do they keep it frozen down here? It's hot!" Rekhal was dragging his feet and even Tanglewood was getting tired. It'd been the busiest couple days he'd had in a long time.
"They're gnomes. Don't ask."
"Gnomes?! You mean it's made by gnomes? Ewwww."
The elf looked down at him warily. "...Yer gonna eat it if I buy it," he said. "Gnomes or not." He'd already given enough money to the masters of the windriders that he could've had two new shirts made.
"It's still ice cream. Right?"
"Right." Tanglewood edged them to one side, away from the gaze of one of the basilisks that frequented the flats. He was unconcerned about the turtles - they didn't tend to bother anyone unless they were bothered first. But he wasn't quite sure about the basilisks. They might be too much for him as yet. "Y'know, they have car races down here."
"I think I hear one." As if on cue, there was the sound of wheels, and soon after, the sound of an explosion as the giant rocket lit and carried one of the rickety cars along the track. Both elf and orc winced but continued on to the little gnome who managed to squawk in pigin Orcish about his ice cream. This time, it was well frozen, and Tanglewood handed over the money without thinking.
"Let's eat it in here, huh? Get in the shade a little."
"Good idea," Rekhal agreed, and the two of them took up spots inside the hut, sitting on the floor. The young boy ate happily, loudly, and messily, pink getting all over the boy's face, his clothes, and the floor.
Tanglewood raised an eyebrow. "Hope some of that's goin' in as well as on," he muttered. Those were silver coins he could've put toward having somebody help him fletch arrows.
He got a grin in return. "This is good, even if it was made by gnomes. Where are gnomes from, anyway?"
"Oh. A place called Gnomeregan. Heard they blew it up, though."
Brivelthwerp turned from the door, giving Tanglewood a skeptical look.
"...Maybe not. Uh, I think we should be heading back to Freewind about now."
"Already?" Rekhal whined.
Looking over at the gnome, Tanglewood nodded. "Yeah, already. C'mon, I'll get you another one to eat on the way."
The kobolds would be prodding at strawberry-stained sand for days.
"Where are we goin' now?" It was Shockwing who accompanied them here, Briarclaw having made it plain she didn't want more to do with hot sand than she'd already had to.
Tanglewood shrugged as they both walked among the rock spires. At least they offered some kind of shade. "I think the lady back in Orgrimmar might be wonderin' where you ended up. You've been gone for a couple days now. Any other weird locations in mind before I get you home safe?"
"I'unno."
"Like Tauren?"
"Well... yeah."
"Ever seen Mulgore?"
"No..."
"Then let's see some grass. Overdue after all this damn sand."
Rekhal shrugged. "Okay."
---
So he'd warmed up to the kid. Not... fully warmed up; it was still going to be good to be on his own again, without having to worry about a kid hanging around, getting him in trouble. He did that enough on his own. "Y'know, kid," he said as he led both of them down the spiralling ramp from the wyvern roost above, "you did pretty good with that Scarlet."
"She was gonna cut your head off," he said, trying to sound wise.
"Nah, prob'ly not." Of course, the kid didn't need to know what probably would've happened to him. "But you still saved my rear."
"I'm gonna be a great fighter when I grow up," he said. "Maybe I'll be able to get one of those big vine monsters like you did!" Stopping in mid-step, Rekhal aimed an imaginary bow. "Just three shots!" Mimicking shooting each arrow, he grinned. "And that big thing just fell over - whump! Right like that!"
"...Make me sound like some kinda war hero." With a faint laugh, Tanglewood shook his head. "C'mon, I'll show you a real war hero."
They had to climb slightly up the spiral to the High Rise. There was a bonfire in the center of the mesa with benches crafted from planks of timber. Before it all was a huge skin tent that Thorn led Rekhal toward. "See that Tauren there? The one bigger than the rest? That's Cairne Bloodhoof."
Rekhal looked at him with eyes as wide as they had been back in Ashenvale. "That's really him? He's the one allied with Thrall?"
"That's him. Chieftain of the Tauren."
"I've heard them tell his stories. About how he fought with Thrall to secure Durotar and how they both fought at Kul Tiras."
"There's your war hero, kid," Tanglewood nodded. "Go introduce yourself. He'll wanna know the newest rising hero, huh?"
Shyly, Rekhar scooted over, even bowing before he spoke to the Elder. Thorn was grinning when Kaga Mistrunner lightly prodded his shoulder. "Showing around one of the orphans, mm?"
"Hm? Oh - yeah." He gave her a faint smile. "Actually a kinda cute kid."
"He's the sixteenth one who's come to see Cairne."
"...Sixteenth?" He turned to look at her as close to straight on as he could - she was always going to be taller than him.
"Oh yes. You see, almost all of the orphans who have found their way into Tauren hands usually visit Cairne." She lifted her hand to indicate another young orc, slightly taller than Rekhal, being guided toward Cairne's tent. "He's been expecting it."
"All of you are always expectin' this kind'a stuff."
"It pays off." With a smile, Kaga handed him a skin-wrapped slab of kodo. "Here. Take this for Briarclaw - she'll like it."
"Hey, this'll be stew for both of us for a couple weeks."
"You're welcome."
"Thanks, Kaga." Tanglewood smiled. Then there were little hands on his again.
"Tanglewood! Tanglewood, Cairne's so nice! And so are you!"
"Thanks, kid," he chuckled. "Ready to see Orgrimmar again?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"C'mon. Let's get you back before the lady there tans my hide while I'm still wearin' it."
---
"Here ya go, kid," Tanglewood said, smiling. "Back home."
"Thanks again, Tanglewood," Rekhal grinned. "It was great seeing everything."
"It was interestin' showing you ever'thing. You take care, arright?"
"All right! See you!" The little orc waved enthusiastically before running into the orphanage.
On his way past the pool, he could hear Rekhal yelling, "And then it was wham, wham, wham, and the vine monster was dead!" It made him laugh despite himself. Soon enough he, his cat, and his windserpent were back in the little room in Ratchet. He was slicing up the side of kodo for stew when there was a tap on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Some ranger you are," came the familiar voice.
"Enough ranger I got you loose," Tanglewood muttered before managing a smile. "Kodo stew. Hungry?"
"It's a change from seafood," Gilthares said. "I'll stick around. Where've you been the last couple days?"
"Wouldn' believe me if I told ya."
"Give it a try."
"Escortin' a orc orphan all over the damn place."
Gilthares blinked. "You're right. I don't believe it. ...Oh, I was going to tell you. There was a package for you downstairs."
"Huh?"
Tanglewood turned from butchering the meat to see the box Gil had brought up with him. "I wasn't expecting anything. Open it for me, huh. My hands are bloody."
There was a rustling of paper before Gilthares shouted, "Oh good god, this is-- ...Who's Rekhal?"
"He was the orphan. Why-- Wait, did he send me that? What is it?"
"The note says... 'Mister Tanglewood, this is my pet rat Whiskers. I know you keep animals good and I wanted you to keep him for me for taking me around. Tell Briarclaw not to eat him. From Rekhal. P.S., Matron Battlewail wrote this for me.' ...That's an interesting thank-you gift. A bloody rat."
"When y'ain't got nothin', you give what you've got," Thorn said, and with a faint smile, he wiped his hand on the leg of his pants and tucked a bit of bread from the hunk Shockwing had been chewing on into the rat's cage. He'd bought the kid icecream and had been given a rat.
Maybe they were even. "Arright Whiskers, yer stuck with me."
"Thorn... you're one of the strangest men I've ever seen." Gilthares shook his head.
"Just start the water boiling while I finish carving this."