Grim Views

The sands of Tanaris whipped past Ashagga, as if trying to scour her from the rocky outcropping on which she stood. She tugged her cloak a little closer around her, trying not to feel the grit as it spat against her cheek, gathered in every fold of her clothing. Gods, she hated the desert.

Erozion's call had come to her in a dream, as the Dragonflight was wont to do. She'd disentangled herself from her lanky partner and the disarrayed sheets, slipped on her leathers, and flown to Gadgetzan, where even at this ungodly hour, before the sun was even halfway past the horizon, the clash of metal on metal and the shouts of goblin bruisers had pounded the sleep from her head.

Now, she crouched on a rocky spit of land in a sea of sand, staring over a leather scarf at the Caverns of Time. Idly, she fingered the hilt of the Warmaul dagger at her hip, wondering how far she could run.

They knew, that was the problem. They knew what she'd do, because to them, she'd already done it, or would have done it, or something. She couldn't keep secrets, not unless the Infinites started interfering with her, and she knew she wasn't that important.

Sighing, she straightened and turned to Calumny, patted the beautiful purple scales as she removed her saddle.

"Yer on yer own, me boyo. Yer done fine 'fore I came along, an' I 'spect yer'll do fine, now." The raptor peered curiously at her, hopping from one foot to the other to alleviate the desert heat. She stepped away. He cocked his head, very much like a bird. After a moment, he took a tentative step toward her, and she backed away further. He let out a confused croak.

"Go on, yer stupid lizard." She kicked sand at him, which made him cock his head again, though it got no other response. "Go on!"

Eventually, Calumny hopped and croaked, blinked, and turned away, dashing off into the teeth of the storm. Ashagga sighed, tossing his saddle to the ground. Omen hadn't been any easier, releasing him into the wilds of Feralas, although Mendacity, her ill-named wind rider, had hurled himself into Terokkar so quickly she half thought she'd imagined having him at all.

Steeling herself, Ashagga headed toward the Caverns.

Erozion stood staring out over the rolling hills of Hillsbrad, the wind rolling gentle fingers through his hair. It was morning here... it almost always was. The times when it was otherwise were less pleasant. The Horde and Alliance were not the only forces at work, here.

He felt the world shimmer as she stepped in. The Caverns were vast and stretched for a thousand miles in a thousand different times and places, and yet he could tell anytime someone appeared who did not belong. There was no question that she did not belong, and yet, he had invited her personally.

He turned to look as she walked out of the cave behind him, the cave that should have been filled with yeti. She looked... grim. As well she might. He sighed to himself. Her bill had come due. She'd had more than she ought.

"You are dead, Ashagga Wolfsister."

Ashagga looked confused for a moment, but he did not give her the chance to ask. "Your other self perished, today... trampled beneath a runaway kodo at the base of Thunder Bluff."

Erozion watched her features. She did not seem surprised... merely stoic. "An' what's that mean ter me? Why'd yer call me 'ere?"

"Ashagga Wolfsister has been written out of the Pattern. There is no place in Time for her."

As if fully realizing for the first time why he had called her, she stepped back, hands going to her daggers. "Yer said I was outside Time. Yer said yer di'n 'ave any problems wi' me."

"And so you are, and so we did not. Now, however, one of you exists where none should. You will fill a space in the weave that needs to be empty. You knew this when you came here."

Ashagga nodded, dropping to a crouch, and her daggers hissed as they came out of their sheaths. "Aye... but that don' mean I 'ave ter go quietly."

Erozion smiled. "No... it doesn't."

A flock of birds burst from a copse of trees in Hillsbrad, startled by a woman's dying scream.

Ashagga was dressed in white linen when the blood elf brought her body into the Grim guildhall, pants and a shirt. She had never liked the way she looked in a dress. Her eyes were closed, both of them, and her face showed a sincere, solemn peace that it had never known while she was alive.

Ignoring those gathered around, the elf laid her gently on the main table in the guildhall, slender hand brushing a strand of her hair off her bloodless face. He sighed softly and turned, departing without a word.

Her corpse would never age. It would never decay. It would never suffer the ravages of cruel Time. Perhaps it was a side effect of her ordeals in the Caverns, or possibly a final gift from the Keepers. Regardless, her spirit had finally been granted the freedom to walk among her ancestors, free in the grasslands of Nagrand with the spirits of her mother and father, of their parents, and theirs.

Ashagga Wolfsister was finally at peace.

FIN

by Gorvena

Gorvena walks around Shattrah, recovering from her recent abduction, when her stone crackles to life...

"Gor...a c.. .ou h..r .e?"

Gorvena looks at the stone puzzledly and says, "Shaggy?"