The Wolf Within - A World of Warcraft Story

Part 7 - Ashes to Ashes

 PART 7

 Don’t you worry, love…it’s just the end of the world…

      Don’t you worry, love…it’s just the end of the world…

 --

 Rosarie’s eyes fluttered open, to the sight of Cynric’s back. He was curled up beside her, sleeping. She tried to sit up, but her body was stiff and aching terribly. She felt a slight twinge in her shoulder, and the pre-blackout memories came flooding in. A Dark Ranger had stabbed her in the shoulder wound and she was in too much agony to stay awake, so her brain had shut off.

Again, she tried to get up, pushing her muscles to their limit and biting her tongue at the pain. At last, she had managed to stumble to her feet. Lorna was standing by the doorway, looking out, her posture slumped. She had a monotone, empty air about her. The worgen wondered silently what could have happened.

 Reverting to her human form, Rosie placed a soft hand on the woman’s shoulder, gently moving her aside with a small nod so she could pass through. As she stepped out into the rainy night, she’d noticed that the square was completely empty.

 Her bare feet hit the cobbled street with a small pit pat. She took a few more steps before stopping and slowly raising her dark blue, sorrowful gaze to the sky, squinting. Raindrops fell all around her, splashing at her feet and shattering into a million pieces, never to be reassembled again. A small, humorless smirk curled at the corners of her lips. Strangely, it reminded her of her hopes and dreams. Falling and breaking forever.

 The water streamed down her face, washing away the dirt and blood that caked her skin and ran through her matted black hair. She’d also noticed something else falling along with the rain; it strangely reminded her of snow, but it had a silvery quality to it…

 Ash.

 All around her, ashes were falling from the sky, pirouetting through the wet air like tiny, foreboding, silver butterflies, landing on her trench coat and hair and face. She then noticed the winding black spirals of smoke rising from the rooftops. Several fires were only now dying down. Who knew fire could even exist in a rain-beaten region?

Right then and there, Rosie broke. She fell to her knees, clutching her hair as tears streamed down her cheeks. White and grey was now dusting her small, beaten form, like freshly fallen snow in early winter. She wailed into the night. She wailed for her younger sister, wailed for her lost mother, for her dead father and old friends. She wailed for the town she grew up in and wailed for her kingdom, which was now crashing down like a house of cards. She sobbed until she had no more strength and her head was splitting and her lungs were short on oxygen.

 “Rosie…?” A gentle, masculine voice cooed form behind her.

 The girl felt a strong but tender hand on her shoulder, but did not dare turn around. She’d recognized the voice almost right away, although it was hard to recall now from how muddled her mind was.

 “Ro…” Strong arms pulled her up and into Cynric’s embrace, where he wrapped her up tightly and let her hide her face in his shoulder, soaking it with even more bitter tears. “Please don’t cry…” He whispered.

 Her heart skipped a beat at his touch. Was it possible to care so strongly for a man that she had only known for a little less than a day?

 “I thought you were dead, Rosie. I thought she’d killed you.” He continued, rocking her back and forth. “I was so scared. I’d managed to heal your shoulder wound. Well, more or less.”

 “Thank you…”

 “Come on,” he stood up, carrying her. “Let’s see if we can help in any way.”