Sleepless in Stranglethorn

**

The sky was undecided, somewhere between the night and the break of dawn. There was no moon, though the accusing glimmer of the stars was enough. Saegwyth stormed into the modest tavern at Grom'Gol, stopping at one of the tables.

The heat was just unbearable, the damp, hot air made her constantly thirsty, the elf sweated no less than the grunts in the camp, even though she was wearing a light leather garb. She hastily took off the chestpiece, her gloves along with the bracers and ran her hands through her hair. Water, she needed water. Thankfully, the resident shamans kept the base well supplied. She went outside and grabbed one of the slightly frosted buckets only to empty it onto her head at once. She ignored the stares, some suspicious, some amused.

But it felt better. It didn't wash off anything that was underneath her skin, though. Thoughts included. She stopped to think and launched a volley of questions. There was a thin line between enjoying yourself and throwing yourself off a cliff into the maelstorm of bad decisions.

She wanted that. She didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't wrong. Yet it felt wrong. Shame and guilt defeated all the other emotions and somehow “blocked” her. However, her anger was not supressed at all. She made a fool of herself, failed to follow her own rules. She felt like a stupid, overeager trainee again. She sat down on one of the furs, close to the entrance. A fellow Sin'dorei offered her some bloodthistle, to “relax”. There was an obvious hint in his smile.

She declined. At least, there was some consistency in her behaviour in this respect. Saegwyth ached for something to take her mind off what's transpired. That was when the marauders appeard. They were not regular soldiers, adventurers, more probably. One of them came to sit with thm and presented the trophy – a drake's head. It turned out they had been hunting dragonkin in the Swamp of Sorrow and were on their way up north, yet decided to stop in Grom'Gol to avoid passing through the human lands. He had some scales to sell. It was an offer she couldn't miss. She didn't hesitate to part with the gold. There was work to be done, the idea came to her at once.

**

Patience. Every carving, every stroke of the smoldering ink, capable of setting itself onto a scale, required all the self control she could muster. Careful, decisive markings gradually covered the dragonscale. Saegwyth treated this as a punishment, considering the state she was in. It was hot as Hellfire. Had it not been for the bracers, the sweat would have ruined the project.

She felt it, glueing her hair, blurring vision at times. That was it. It was the weird justice. Why did she stop in the first place? She is not a marble statue. She is not a leader, she does not need to uphold her dignity. Yet, something told her that she's not where she's ought to be. Somewhere, at the back of her head, a voice called her to go...home.

At last, her work was complete. She took a critical look at the runed dragonscale and nodded. Now, the letter... She washed herself in ice cold water again before even thinking of her hands touching the parchment.

I like it!

(Zajebiste xD)