Cataclysm: Dragonborn

Chapter 4: Memories

The next morning, Jarvan woke as the sun crested the mountains behind him. He squinted as the orange orb slowly rose over the distant peaks. There was a certain silence that the morning brought that was peaceful and set his mind at ease. As he took several deep breaths of the last of the cool night air, he realized there was a bundled lump asleep next to him. He felt his cheeks grow hot as Shyvana's red hair peeked out from under the edge of the dark blanket.

Jarvan vaguely remembered her falling asleep last night with choked sobs and tears still running down her face. He hadn't the heart to roust her from her uneasy slumber and his presence alone seemed to have calmed her.

Jarvan carefully stretched, still trying not to disturb the young dragoness. As his arms rose above him, he realized that he felt well rested for once. He paused, trying to remember what had plagued his dreams the night before.

The realization that he had slept restlessly was both shocking and amazing to him. He took pause, and looked down at the young dragoness and smiled. He tucked one of the dirty strands of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Jarvan caught himself as he stroked her cheek tenderly, withdrawing his hand and blushing as he looked around, hoping that none of his men had seen the affectionate gesture. Jarvan looked down at the young dragoness, something in his stomach fluttering.

I wonder... is this...? Jarvan shook his head and took a deep breath, clapping his cheeks. Slow down. You've only just met her. Jarvan thought back to the night before, the memories of her smile and her laughter bringing a smile to his face, his entire chest swelling at the memory. It's not love... not yet. Jarvan reconsidered the young woman at his side. Perhaps she could return to Demacia with me...

Jarvan stiffened as a demonic screech cut through the sky and echoed back and forth about Mogron pass. He looked skywards for the source of the sound.

Shyvana jumped up, on all fours, her hair almost standing straight up as she growled. Her eyes had grown wide, going from a sound sleep to unbridled fury in an instant. Her face was a mix of horrifying and demonic rage, her eyes wide and her grow contorted in her rage. She bared gleaming white teeth with long fangs, her magenta eyes narrowing to gleaming diamonds.

"It's him!" She roared. "He's returned!" Gone was the innocence of her eyes from the night before, replaced by fury burning like hellfire and damnation. As the cry echoed across the pass again, Jarvan's men stumbled onto the plateau, their weapons drawn and raised to the sky. Shyvana continued to growl as she watch the horizon of a distant mountain.

"Who?" Jarvan asked as he struggled awkwardly to his feet, his leg stiff. "Who has returned?"

"Kampf!" She shouted. "Come down here! Show yourself!" She bellowed into the open sky, slowly turning slowly, as if she were tracking a target.

"Kampf?" Jarvan repeated, frowning.

"Here, sire." Forsythe tossed Jarvan his tunic and gloves. Jarvan plucked them from the air and shucking the rough tunic he had been wearing, he pulled the tight leather tunic that he attached his armor to over his head. Jarvan pulled his hair free of the tunic and tucked the garment into his pants, fastening his belt down. He began attaching his armor plates, fastening the snaps and shoving the belts through the buckles, fastening them down. He took his helm from Argyle's outstretched hand and his lance from Isaacs. The remainder of his men were packing up the encampment, breaking down the cook fire and scattering the coals and rolling their bedding away as quickly as they could.

The men eyed Shyvana with tepid interest, still not sure whether they should fear her. Jarvan nodded to them subtly which seemed to calm them. They eased their stances slightly, but yet another ear splintering screech caused them to clamp their hands over their ears. Jarvan dropped his helmet and clasped his hands over his ears as Shyvana screamed back, her cry both pained and vicious.