Windi Featherwing opened her eyes under the night sky of Feralas. The tip of her nose felt cool from the night dew dripping from the leaves. A fire was burning in front of her, with Sowema adding logs to it. He tossed a larger piece, which stirred up a cloud of smoke, causing him to step back.
"Windi!" Sowema called her name in a deliberately lowered voice. "You're awake."
"How long did I sleep?"
Sowema looked up at the sky. "The moon was just... let me see..."
"Forget it."
"Oh."
Sowema placed the remaining logs aside, felt they were too close to the fire, kicked them back a little, and sat down on a tree stump. Next to the stump was a black, cracked axe. After a brief moment of sitting, he slightly raised himself and asked, "How's your leg?"
"My leg?" Windi looked at her left leg, which was treated with herbs and bandaged, only now remembering she'd been injured before she fell unconscious. "You treated me?"
"It needed immediate attention."
Windi noticed that Sowema had used too much herbal paste; it was almost seeping through the bandages.
"Thanks."
"Heh." Sowema sat back down.
"By the way, where did you get these logs? We should have run out by now."
"I found them in a nearby cave. Pretty good wood, huh?"
"...A cave?"
"Don't worry, not one with ogres. Just a small one. There were wolf pelts hanging inside."
"Must be someone's home, right? You shouldn't have just taken their wood."
"It's fine, I didn't burn much. If the person comes, we'll return what's left. And since they live out here, they must understand what it's like for travelers to spend a night in the wild. No problem."
They fell silent for a while. Sowema patted the ash off the fur on his lower arms.
"Windi, I was thinking... Shouldn't we head back?"
"We haven't found him yet."
"We've been circling for a month. Feralas is huge, and even the people at Feathermoon Stronghold said they hadn't seen him... Who knows if he's even still "
"We're not looking for him, but for the thing he has."
"But isn't that even harder? How big could that thing be?"
"Sorry, Sowema. We can't go back yet. I have to take responsibility. If you want to head back..."
"No way, I'm responsible too. Otherwise, no one would ever hire me as a bodyguard again. But the supplies really won't last. Tomorrow, we should try to find the main road, head to Feathermoon Stronghold for restocking, then come back. How about that? Oh, I forgot, your foot is injured, you shouldn't walk too much. Better rest for a few days. Right, that's it." Almost talking to himself, Sowema remembered to ask for Windi's opinion. "What do you think?"
"It's fine, I can walk. Let's get back to the road tomorrow."
"Oh, alright."
Though Taurens were never known to be stubborn, Windi still thought Sowema was too easily swayed by others. His opinions were like a round pebble on flat ground, easily kicked about and moved back, hitting no one with enough force to cause harm. The only thing he'd insisted on was volunteering to be her bodyguard no matter how much she refused, he'd stuck with it.
Three months ago, Windi noticed that the unnamed grass seeds she had planted were dying in large patches. It had been two years since the Alliance occupied Andorhal, and the miasma in the air was slowly diminishing, causing some climate changes. Just thinking that this might be the reason the grass was dying made Windi uneasy. The purpose of planting them was to improve the environment, but if they could only survive in the corruption of miasma-laden soil, then what was the point?
This was merely a possible answer, the one Windi least wanted to accept. She found herself lacking the conditions and knowledge to verify its truth. She had to leave the Western Plaguelands and return to Moonglade to seek help from the Cenarion Circle. She found her druid mentor.
"You want me to request personnel and equipment to assist your research," the mentor said.
"Yes, it s important."
"Why?"
"Because they are a gift from the Earthmother. We should treat this gift she gave us kindly. Although proving their ability to improve the soil may not yet be mature "
"No, I believe they indeed have the effect you claim. I also believe you can prove it. But I still need to ask you: why are they important?"
"Sorry, I don t understand your question."
"You cultivated them to improve the environment of the Plaguelands. Do I understand correctly?"
"Yes."
"And that s where the problem lies, Windi. What makes you think improving the environment of the Plaguelands is the top priority?"
"Isn t it our duty to defend the natural vitality of the land?"
"Listen, Windi," the mentor slowed down his speech. "The Plaguelands are a front line. Your efforts may be in vain after the next war. Besides, that is not the front line for the Cenarion Circle. Even in the face of the Scourge, the Alliance and Horde continue their foolish struggles, not to mention the Scarlet Crusade, which further complicates the situation. What drives them is possession. The Circle has no intention of getting involved in this absurd conflict. We have more precious lands to protect: Felwood, Silithus, and others. In these tense times "
Windi interrupted him, "But every piece of land on Azeroth should be equally important to those who protect nature."
"I appreciate your spirit. Yes, it is equally important, but that s from a historical perspective. At this stage, the Circle will not devote too much energy to the Western Plaguelands. I don t expect you to understand, as you ve always been an outsider to the Circle, acting and thinking on your own this isn t good, Windi. The Circle is like a great tree, and you, as one of its leaves, should not detach yourself from the branches. Because you ve acted independently for so long, the upper levels have considered expelling you, but I ve been holding the line because I know that when it comes to saving the land, no one s passion matches yours. But that doesn t give you the right to disregard the Circle s decisions. I sincerely advise you to give up this meaningless research, Windi. Life that can only thrive in miasma may, by nature, be an impure force."
Windi remained silent, somewhat distracted. Her gaze somehow drifted past her mentor s side, falling on the surface of Lake Elune ara beyond the railing. Small insects landed on the water for barely an instant before circling away.
"If you want to continue working on soil restoration, I can write a recommendation to the Emerald Circle for you. Go to Felwood; they need you there."
"Thank you for your kindness," Windi paused, "I ve made up my mind."
"Have you? That s good "
"I m leaving the Circle."
The mentor sighed. "You re putting pressure on me."
"I don t mean to. I believe that all soil is equal, that it has the right to be protected and kept away from corruption. If my approach isn t accepted by the Circle, then I must act completely independently."
"I strongly advise you not to do this."
"When I ve finished writing my resignation, I hope you ll submit it as soon as possible. I must return to the Plaguelands quickly to tend to them."
"Wait, Windi."
The mentor lowered his eyes, tapping the tip of his right finger lightly on the railing. After a moment, he said:
"You are my best student. I truly don t want to see this outcome... and I ve been at fault for not communicating personal philosophy with you. How about this: I won t report this to the higher-ups, and you don t leave the Circle. I can provide you with personal research equipment and assign three apprentices to assist you. How does that sound?"
"Thank you, this is more than I asked for."
"But I have one condition. You must do something to prove that you still have the heart to serve the Circle as a whole."
"If you think I need to prove that..."
"You know the Cleansing Box, right?"
"Yes. A precious container that can seal evil substances."
"I entrusted a Cleansing Box to a subordinate, sending him to Dire Maul to find a fragment of a felvine to seal it inside and bring it back. This was a very important mission. But the deadline passed over two weeks ago, and he has yet to appear or send any word. It seems for some unknown reason, he is still in Feralas. I want you to find him or rather, find the Cleansing Box. The technique to craft such containers has been lost, and each existing one is over a thousand years old. We cannot afford to lose one."
"I will depart immediately."
"You can t go alone; you need someone to accompany you. The forests of Feralas are deep and treacherous. I m sorry, but I can t provide combat personnel it s beyond my authority. Besides, involving other members of the Circle in this could cause unnecessary trouble. In fact, I ve kept your return to Moonglade hidden from the higher-ups, or you might already be under house arrest. Hire some trustworthy adventurers, Windi."
Windi agreed that companions were necessary for this task, but she faced a practical problem: she was nearly penniless. Traveling alone in the wilderness required little money, but hiring adventurers was a different matter. It was at that moment that Sowema appeared. Though Windi was puzzled how he had also come from the Western Plaguelands, she had few choices at the time.
Windi and Sowema first went directly to Feathermoon Stronghold to investigate, but they found nothing. It seemed the night elf druid who had vanished with the box had never arrived at the stronghold. They abandoned the idea of infiltrating Dire Maul, not only because it was too dangerous with just the two of them, but also because Sowema had almost no concept of stealth. Afterward, they wandered through the vast forests of Feralas searching for any signs of him, but after a week of fruitless effort, they still came up empty-handed. That afternoon, they were attacked near some ruins where ogres roamed but managed to escape by sheer luck.
"Sowema," Windi suddenly recalled something, "how did we escape?"
"You were injured, so I carried you and ran."
"I remember the ogres were chasing us closely."
"Yeah, but we still got away."
"No, your running speed isn t that fast. I had my eyes closed, but I heard the ogres' footsteps disappear quickly."
Sowema rubbed the side of his nose. "I m not fast but we got away, didn t we?"
"I m not accusing you, don t worry."
"No, no."
They fell silent again. Not only because they lacked a suitable topic to continue, but also because they both knew that deciding to find the main road and return to Feathermoon Stronghold tomorrow meant admitting that their search this time would yield no results. Windi stared at the campfire, her thoughts drifting back to the nights in the Western Plaguelands. When she and Amy lit a fire outside their tent, she had stared at the golden, ever-changing flames in the same way; whether in the Plaguelands or Feralas, the fire radiated life s warmth in the same manner.
The wind shifted, sending smoke toward Sowema, who rubbed his eyes.
"Windi," he said, "I was thinking "
"What?"
"When we get back, what do you plan "
Sowema's words abruptly cut off. He hunched his shoulders and turned around. Windi also lifted her gaze, looking toward the bushes behind him.
They heard heavy footsteps crunching through the fallen leaves. A figure, nearly as tall as Sowema, emerged. Though his upper body was cloaked in the shadow of the trees, they could tell he was a dark-skinned orc. In his left hand, he held a massive sword almost as wide as a person. His right arm was missing below the elbow.
The orc stopped about ten yards from the fire.
"Who are you?" Sowema stood up, gripping his axe.