Before opening his eyes, Sowema touched his forehead. He abruptly sat up. The campfire was still burning, Windy was still sitting in the same spot, and dew was still dripping from the leaves. He almost forgot why he lost consciousness until he saw the one-armed orc sitting cross-legged on the other side.
Sowema quickly reached for his axe, but found nothing beside him. The axe was lying flat to the left of the orc.
"Hey! You…" he stood up, suddenly feeling dizzy, his throat unable to produce any sound.
"You'd better lie down," said the orc.
"Do as this gentleman says," Windy added.
Sowema had no choice but to lie back down, closing his eyes, his fist resting on his forehead. He vaguely recalled the earlier events: faced with the one-armed orc emerging from the night, he had raised his axe defensively—Wendy had tried to stop him, but it was too late—he swung the axe—and then—then what? What happened to me?
He couldn't remember seeing the orc make a move. But now, there was no other explanation.
"You were too rash," Windy said. "This gentleman means no harm. Moreover, you should be the one apologizing first."
He slightly raised his head. "Apologize?"
"The firewood belongs to him."
"So, the person living in that cave is…" Sowema, now more alert, turned to the orc. "What's your name?"
"I have no name."
"Oh." Sowema didn't intend to dwell on that. The orc was clearly a blademaster, and to Sowema, this group was known for their cryptic ways of speaking and a desire to test their endurance by throwing themselves into lava. Sowema wasn't too concerned about not having seen how the orc made his move earlier.
"I returned to my cave and found someone had been there. I saw a fire nearby, so I came to check," said the orc.
"Sorry, you just appeared out of nowhere... It startled me, and I thought…"
Windy shot Sowema a reproachful look, making him realize how rude his words were. The orc, clearly in his elder years, was living in an unknown cave deep within the forests of Feralas and had only one arm; he deserved more respect.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have attacked. Also, about the firewood, I'll compensate you... name a price."
"No need."
There was a moment of silence. The orc just sat there without showing any reaction. Though he said there was no need for compensation, he didn't seem to have any intention of leaving, nor did he appear interested in conversing with the two tauren. The tension between the three was palpable, amplified by the crackling sounds of the fire.
"So," Sowema couldn't help but break the silence, "have you been living here all this time?"
The orc stood up. "You two, follow me."
"Is something wrong?" Windy asked.
"It's not safe to stay here. Put out the fire. Grab your weapons."
The orc tossed Sowema his axe. When Sowema caught it, he felt the weight pull down heavily on his fingers.
"What… what's not safe?" he asked.
The orc didn't answer. Sowema glanced at Windy. She was just as confused but didn't ask further and started packing her things. Sowema extinguished the fire.
"Can you manage?" He glanced at Windy, who wobbled slightly as she stood. "Should I carry you? It'll be quicker."
"I'm fine."
"No need to rush," the orc said. "Follow my path closely. You were lucky not to trigger any traps on your way to my cave earlier."
Ten minutes later, they returned to the orc's cave. Windy looked around and said to Sowema, "It's obvious someone lives here. You really shouldn't have taken the firewood."
"I already said I'd compensate him," he grumbled, feeling a bit irritated. Not because Windy had scolded him, but because she seemed to be taking the orc's side.
The orc sat down on a mat made of wolf fur. "You two sit down," he said.
They sat. Just when they thought they were about to endure another awkward silence, the orc turned to Windy.
"Why is your leg injured?"
"We ran into some ogres this morning," she replied. "Thanks to Sowema, we escaped."
Sowema chimed in, "Those guys couldn't catch me."
"It was strange," Windy added, "they were so close, and then suddenly, they just disappeared."
"What exactly are we avoiding?" Sowema asked. "You said earlier, 'the scent is still far off'…"
"The ogres here are extremely violent. Perhaps escaping from them wasn't entirely a stroke of luck," the orc said. "Maybe it found them."
"It?"
"Since you're in these woods, you have a right to know. A month ago, I found a dying night elf druid near the main road."
Wendy's eyes immediately widened, and her back straightened. Sowema glanced at her.
"It seems that name strikes a chord with you."
"Do you know what his name was?" Windy asked.
"He called himself Oyi Nightsong."
"That's him!" Sowema exclaimed.
"Do you know him?"
"Not exactly," Windy said, "but we came here to find him."
"I'm not going to ask why you're looking for him. Oyi was covered in scratches and bite marks, with several bones exposed, and three fingers missing from his right hand. These were not injuries I could heal, so I asked him if he had any last wishes, if he wanted me to make him a grave. He pulled out a rectangular box."
Sowema was about to say something, but Windy gestured for him to remain quiet.
"I asked him what he wanted me to do with the box. At first, he told me to deliver it to the Cenarion Circle, but then he changed his mind, telling me not to do that. In the end, he said I could handle it however I wished. Seeing he could barely speak, I offered, 'I can bury you,' but he kept shaking his head. Finally, he asked me to place him under the most flourishing tree around. I did as he asked, and then I left."
Windy could understand such a request. Though druids were always vigilant in guarding the land, they found it hard to resist becoming close to the green growth that rose from the soil. If forced to choose a place to die, most druids would prefer to turn to dust under the vast shade of trees.
The orc continued. "Three days later, I returned to that tree, but there was no body. There was some blood, but no signs that any beasts, ogres, or gnolls had been there. On the way back, I found a few ogre corpses—well, more like a pile of mangled remains. Then I saw a four-legged creature lift its head from one of the piles of flesh. At first, I thought it was a black panther—except there are no such creatures in Feralas. And it wasn't a panther. It was something else, something I've never seen before. It let out a roar and then turned and ran into the thicket. That's when I realized its front right paw was missing three toes, just like Oyi's right hand. I've seen it several times since, and I'm sure it's been hunting every creature in Feralas, sparing none."
"How is that possible?" Sowema couldn't hold back any longer.
"I'm just telling you what I saw. Its skeleton resembled the panther form druids take, but there were many differences. I can't give you the details because it never stayed in my sight for long. Whatever it is—I've decided to kill it."
"So that's why you set traps in the forest?" Windy asked.
"No. I've been setting traps ever since I moved here. Mainly to catch food, but for other reasons too..." The orc trailed off.
"Windy, that's not the point, is it?" Sowema was puzzled as to why Windy was asking about the traps when there were more important matters to clarify. "He's saying Oyi Nightsong turned into a monster—a monster that can easily hunt down a group of ogres." He held back the thought that "this old orc must be crazy."
"Looks like you two are from the Cenarion Circle?"
"I am," Windy replied, giving both of their names.
The orc stood up, went to the back of the cave, and from a small niche in the rock wall, pulled out something wrapped in wolf hide. He handed it to Windy. "This can prove half of what I told you."
Windy unwrapped the hide. Inside was a dark red, speckled box. She examined it carefully, then lifted the lid to check the contents.
"Windy...?" Sowema asked.
"It's the Purification Coffer, no doubt. But..." Windy held it up, level with her eyes.
"But what?" Sowema asked.
"Orc sir," Windy said, "we did indeed come here looking for this. May I take it?"
"Of course. I don't need it. You may not believe what I've told you, but there's no denying this place is dangerous. If you were only after the box, it would be best to leave as soon as possible. I can take you back to the main road tomorrow morning."
"And you...?"
"I live here."
Windy looked at Sowema; he was clearly waiting for her opinion. She looked back at the Purification Coffer. She could feel the unique sealing power, a faint tremor in her palm. But what truly concerned her was a crack on the side of the coffer, large enough to slip a human pinky through. Her mentor's task was only to retrieve the coffer, but after hearing the orc's account, she doubted whether that was truly enough.
She didn't believe the orc was lying. If he had any ulterior motives, he wouldn't need to be so roundabout, as she'd seen how easily he had knocked Sowema unconscious, without even using a blade. But force wasn't the most important thing; the key was what she sensed from him. He was clearly a battle-hardened warrior; every solid muscle and bulging vein was like a weathered chisel mark on rock. He always kept his blade in his left hand, not because he was ready to kill at any moment, but because that massive, heavy piece of iron had become an extension of his arm, not necessarily symbolizing violence. He himself was a mass of stone, trying hard to cool himself down, trying to become still, while molten lava boiled beneath the surface. He refused to give his name, and Windy didn't push to understand why an orc would choose to live in a remote cave in Feralas, hidden away, surrounding himself with traps—she couldn't tell if it was for protection or isolation.
At the same time, the image of the dying Oyi Nightsong lingered in Wendy's mind. Although she had never met him, she could now clearly picture his features and expression. He had borne the responsibility of the Cenarion Hold, journeying to Dire Maul to search for the Fragment of the Felvine. Though Windy couldn't confirm whether he had succeeded, it was now clear that he had failed to return, and only the precious Purification Coffer was being missed—not Oyi himself. Her mentor had only tasked her with retrieving the coffer, treating Oyi and the Felvine Fragment as things that, even if lost, did not warrant much effort to recover.
This was unfair to Oyi. I need to know what happened to him.
"We may need to trouble you for a few more days," Windy said.
"Windy, haven't we already retrieved the coffer?" Sowema asked.
"Looks like your companion doesn't agree with your decision." The orc glanced at Windy.
"Sowema," she said, "you can go back if you want. I need to see Oyi Nightsong."
"If you stay, there's one condition," the orc said. "Don't get in the way when I kill that beast. Whether or not it's the one you're looking for."
"...I agree," Windy said.
Sowema scratched the back of his head and looked up. "Well, I also..."
Windy interrupted him. "Are you really sure about this? You don't have to follow me this far, and I already feel bad enough about not being able to pay you much."
"So you're an employer and an adventurer?" The orc said.
That statement struck a nerve in Sowema. He didn't like thinking of Windy as his "employer" and himself as the "adventurer," but now he found that it was the best excuse to stay. "Yes, that's exactly it. Our contract is to protect you until we return to Moonglade, so if you don't leave, neither do I. Besides, I'm curious about this creature—what kind of warrior would be afraid of it?"