The druidess sat huddled in a ball next to the fire, her close friend Alice not leaving her side. Her eyes never left the small box that sat only a mere feet away, covered in blood and reeking of death the druidess hung her head while it sat there, a small tag that accompanied it with only the simple words, “For Alnarra: Thinking of you”. The contents had been most vial, the carcasses and remains of sabers and large felines. The sender an unknown name to her.
She was not sure if it was a friend of Bael’s or perhaps someone Hafu might have known, or even worse someone else that might have something against her. All she did know is that the box reeked of death and given her love and affection for her own feline form a warning of some kind to her. Her imagination ran wild as she sat rocking back and forth next to the fire, her fingers and hands pulling her knees close to her. In her many years she had never received something like this in the mail. Perhaps it was because of her affiliation with the Devilclaw, perhaps it was a jilted lover, or perhaps worse some new threat she had not yet imagined.
Regardless of the cause she could not ignore the result staining the stone floor next to her with the blood of innocent creatures that just so happened to share a similar shape as her on some days of the week. She looked over to Alice who was keeping a close watch on the doors, she had asked Araane and the rest of the Devilclaw if they had known the sender, to no avail. She called out to Inodraen over the stones not knowing where he was but seeking his comforts more than most nights.
She could not shake the reading she had been given, noting that she would find someone, a woman, would come to her to show her how to recover from her pains, but it would require isolation. Then as if by some kind of strange twist of fate Priestess Fafen had appeared to join the devilclaw, even if it was only for a short time. Was this the woman she was supposed to meet? Was Fafen the one that would guide her form her pain and misery? Alnarra could not be sure, her mind was consumed by the contents of the shipment in front of her.
Her relationship with Inodraen seemed to be going well enough, but the reading had said that she would need to be isolated and alone. Did this mean that Inodraen was not right for her? Was it just a bunch of silly cards? All the questions that Alnarra could keep contained in her momentary bliss had come flooding back to her, overwhelming her mind with worry and doubt.
She had spoken with Phaedra and in some ways confirmed her own worst fears, that perhaps she was never special, that she never meant anyone to anything. She knew that is not how Phaedra meant things, but right now more than ever Alnarra felt isolated, lost, and alone. She knew her place never really was as a member of the Devilclaw, she was never cut out for their actual operations. But she nowhere else to turn, nowhere else that she could fit in. She was not and never had been a sentinel, the military code had never suited her. The strict requirements of being a soldier were something she had never been able to conform to no matter how much she tried.
Her time with the Eternal Flame had gone poorly, ending in misery for all parties involved. No matter how many close friends she made, how many people she let get close, she felt like an outsider. Even amongst her own people, in the streets of Darnassus she felt as if she did not belong, that despite whatever Kaldorei blood may pump through her veins that something was wrong with her, something made her different from her brothers and sisters. She did not share a proper warrior’s spirit, and her talents as a mender were paltry on the best of days compared to some of her comrades. She did not know how to fight, cook, or sew. All the druidess knew were the skills she had already demonstrated and she felt as if she was at her limit.
She tried to hide the fear, the self-loathing, the misery from the others, she could not let them get concerned. No matter how often and how hard she tried to feet and tame the beast inside it kept raging against her to be free. She hated to see others upset, worried, and miserable, but it seemed to be the nature of things and the Devilclaw in particular. Every night a new tear seemed to fall, a new fight broke out, and Alnarra wondered perhaps if she made the right choice.
Araane would go on to find new lovers, Jiji would look after Bael. Little Gwen seemed to be making a recovery and finally mending her relationship with her sister. Little Lithiaris had finally gotten the marriage she had been asking for. Mr. Briscoe was firmly reunited with his watch and had his own quest to maintain. Johias had been freed from his painful past and the consequences there in. Delegoth was making his own happy pairings and trying to muddle through things as best he could, and even where he couldn’t Alnarra knew she could not be of any help. All the people in Alnarra’s life, even Inodraen seemed to operate fine without her, and perhaps that is what worried her the most. That she needed them to move on, to strive, to continue living, but none of them needed her in the same way. Alnarra’s desperation grew to a new edge as for one last time she looked at the box before choking back tears and drifting into the endless turmoil that was her own mind.
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