The Wolf Within - A World of Warcraft Story

Part 2 - A Piece of Mind

PART 2

 “Give ‘er a double dose.”

 “Don’t you think that would be too much?”

 “Aranas, it’s worth the risk. I don’t think we have much choice.”

 “You’re prob’ly right…” Krennan’s voice faltered, tired and anxious, slicing through the mugginess of the blackout.

 Rosarie’s eyes fluttered open, heavy. Her head pounded, especially where the guard had hit her with the hilt of his rapier the night before. She tried to peer around, but found her neck and wrists to be tightly shackled. A low, pitiful whine escaped her as she flattened her ears against the still-pouring rain. The wild flame still burned within her, coursing through her veins, but she no longer had the urge to lunge at the men and tear their throats out. At least not while she was bound and at gunpoint.

 The elder alchemist, Krennan Aranas, was holding a small, cloudy vial in his hand, containing a strange bluish liquid. He was flanked by two other figures; a tall, brawny, regal man with a long silver mane and golden cloak, his attire dark and embroidered with gold and silver, his eyes, cradled in the folds of his face, held a strange, fierce familiarity to them. The second was clearly a nobleman, with an ornate cane, gold-rimmed spectacles, and a top hat that sat atop his neatly cropped white hair. He was looking at Rosarie with clear contempt, a scowl twitching every single muscle in his creased face.

 “Godfrey, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try and hide your dislike. She won’t be as foul once we give her the antidote.” The Golden Cloak remarked, giving Spectacles, or Godfrey, a sharp sideways glance.

 The nobleman’s upper lip twitched, “How do you even know that this is going to work on her, Greymane?” He inquired dryly. “Just because it worked on a few others, who, might I add, were freshly bitten, does not mean it will take its desired effect on this one. It’s been nigh a whole night since her incident.”

 The worgen let out a low growl.

 “See? I don’t think she’s got even a shred of humanity left in her. I can see it in her eyes.” Godfrey muttered through gritted teeth, his spectacles flashing as lightning streaked across the murky sky. He leaned in.

 King Greymane hissed under his breath, moving his cloak out of the way irritably with a one swooping motion of his arm. “Krennan, give her a dose strong enough to kill a horse,” he ordered. “And hope that it doesn’t kill her. She seems promising.”

 Nodding, the alchemist moved closer to Rosarie, one hand held out, steady and gentle. The bottle was uncorked. When the young worgen did not attempt to snap at him, Krennan suddenly grabbed her muzzle and poured the antidote down her throat, making sure all of it went down before quickly hopping out of the way.

 Heaviness weighed down on her eyelids as the antidote spread through her, extinguishing the flame until a comforting, peaceful calm settled upon her whole body. Rosarie did nothing to struggle, simply relaxing and letting her head roll to the side. She’d heard muffled voices, but soon they, too, faded to nothing but a buzzing echo…

--

 A caw of a raven awoke her. It faded in and out of her consciousness, like a mirage, leaving her to wonder whether she was really awake or still dreaming. Rosarie groaned and rolled over, flicking raindrops from her ear. Her left eye opened, then her right. The worgen blinked. The grey of the world was spinning and spinning as she struggled to get a grip on her surroundings. Slowly, it came into focus. Bloody earth, wilting grass, old bones, muddy leather boots – several pairs of them -, rainwater streaming through the softened soil. The pungent odor of wet earth mixing in with that of meat and damp fur. Muffled grunts and whines contrasting sharply against the gentle pitter patter of rain.