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| - The mother shrieked when he son was propelled toward her, she dropped the plank and pulled her son's head toward her, cradling his body. Why wasn't he crying, or screaming in terror? He had been half asleep and dazed the entire time the undead held him, but now that he was free, he should have been hysterical. Lucia peered down at him and finally noticed the thin trickle of blood above his ear. "No, no." She sobbed, shaking the boy. "Alexi, wake up please!" she moaned. She slapped his face firmly, trying to get any reaction. His eyes remained closed. Frantically she searched the ground around her. Lying slightly off-side the road, exactly where her son's head had been, was a lost wagon wheel, partially overgrown with weeds and partially buried in the dirt. Sticking from the wagon wheel
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| - The mother shrieked when he son was propelled toward her, she dropped the plank and pulled her son's head toward her, cradling his body. Why wasn't he crying, or screaming in terror? He had been half asleep and dazed the entire time the undead held him, but now that he was free, he should have been hysterical. Lucia peered down at him and finally noticed the thin trickle of blood above his ear. "No, no." She sobbed, shaking the boy. "Alexi, wake up please!" she moaned. She slapped his face firmly, trying to get any reaction. His eyes remained closed. Frantically she searched the ground around her. Lying slightly off-side the road, exactly where her son's head had been, was a lost wagon wheel, partially overgrown with weeds and partially buried in the dirt. Sticking from the wagon wheel was a bloody iron nail; the thick, long and wickedly sharp ones that the builders guild used on high-stress creations. It was just a nail. She glanced back down at her son. A thin loud keening began at the back of her throat. Before she could stop it, wails issued from her. In her grief numbed mind she barely realized the sound was coming from her. He was free. No one was following and the darkness of the wood wrapped him in safety. He finally felt free of the awful encounter in that cursed town. A shiver ran down his spine and his hands shook. As Kopfjagger slowed to a mere jog in the woods, he heard a sound of misery that matched that in his own soul drift along the musty soil of the wood. He stopped and turned towards the sound. No one knew his pain, he thought in self-righteous arrogance. This sound could only have come from his soul. He had to find what made this heart-wrenching sound. Still under full stealth, he crept his way back to the outskirts of the small town. The druid had left, the guards had dispersed and the streets were vacant. Yet still there was that horrible sound. It was as if the sound itself had driven the rest of the town into hiding. He could make out the human woman holding her boy, gently rocking back and forth. Hands smoothing hair. Kisses falling gently on forehead. The sound was still coming from her and she seemed unaware. Why was she mourning the return of her son? He had taken such special care to not harm the boy. True, most of that was out of self-preservation, but he has killed for no reason before. He had intentionally spared this boy. The Head Hunter shook his head. The boy was indeed, unmoving. Then he noticed the blood. Quickly, he checked his weapons. They contained no blood, not even the blood of the Night Elf, which was unfortunate. Night Elf blood was especially wonderful. He stood there in stealth and watched this woman's heart slowly blacken. This was not what he wanted to happen. This was a recon mission. This was an innocent if ever one walked the cursed realm of the Earth Mother. And he was responsible. He and the Druid. Had the druid not pursued him this would not have happened. The hunter had given up easily enough, but that cursed mutant The undead rogue found himself staring and searching. After a few moments that took longer than it should have, he knew what to do. He unstealthed and removed his swords. He held his swords by their tips and slowly walked over to the woman, squatting in her misery on the dusty road. He presented to her his swords. It was time for him to die. He hoped that this time, it would be his last. He just wanted pain to end. All pain. Not only his, and not only until the next time. He no longer wanted to kill. He just wanted everything to end and this woman should be the one to end it for him. Lucia, as the human mother of two was called, sobbed for her son. She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and looked into the sleep filled face of her daughter. She, in her nighty with her thumb in her mouth, looked in Lucia's eyes. "Momma?" Lucia gathered her remaining child in her arms. It was then that she noticed him. From out of the blackness, came the rogue, tips of his fiery swords in his hands, pity and sorrow in his eyes. He gestured at her, offering her his weapons. Rage filled her soul. I can end his existence, drive the tips into his blackened rotted flesh, she thought to herself. She stood and snatched the blades from him, snarling. Her teeth we bared as she prepared to strike his body. There was a frantic tugging at her skirt, she looked down and met her daughter's eyes, "Momma?" she said again, wonderingly, frightened. Lucia looked down upon her child. She couldn't. Her countenance fell as she dropped the blades. They clattered harmlessly to the ground, steel glinting in the moonlight, fire dancing in anticipation. "Another time, Undead," she vowed. "I will take something from you that you cherish. A life, not even your own, means anything to a thing like you. One day, I will find what you hold dear and I will take it from you." Lucia gathered her daughter in her arms. The Undead wouldn't know what she had said, and it was highly unlikely he spoke the common tongue, but she felt good saying it anyway. Her daughter in her innocence reached her hands out and touched the undead's face, un-afraid, un-flinching, a soft caress. Lucia jerked the girl away, put her firmly in the house and went back to get the body of her son. The undead seemed to be gone. A tiny dagger struck over and over at the shattered body of the Scourge. He told himself it was no longer his son and his daughter. They were not the ones eating the corpse of their rotted mother. Surely, it was not them that he slew. No one could see the shattered form on the road that night. He was shown mercy where none was desired. The touch of the child shot warmth and regret through his ancient, dry veins. His burning eyes dropped tears upon the dust and the fiery swords as the human woman returned to gently scoop up her slain child. No one saw, and aside from himself and the human mother, no one cared. ((This part of the story was written in partnership by Kopfjagger and Lucia. I have the honor of retelling it but at least half, if not more, of the creative power comes directly from Lucia even though her name does not appear to the left of the post. *bows deeply to Lucia* Thank you, Lucia, for letting me retell our story, I hope to do it justice.))
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