Eye of the Beholder

Fifteen.

War was not a new concept to Lord Ravencrest, and it was immediately noticeable in the way he organized his troops. When Eliana and Illidan emerged from her tent a few minutes later, they'd discovered that the commander already sent out scouting parties, tasked with finding out just how far the demons' destruction had spread throughout Kalimdor.

As a result, the camp seemed less boisterous than their last one; the clanging of hammer against anvil was less common, and there were fewer bodies milling about. But...that could also be because much of their force was decimated in this first major battle in the war, and that knowledge sobered Eliana.

She and Illidan stood beside one another, gazing around at the remainder of their army. Though she knew there'd been little she alone could do to save them, she hoped that they had a better chance at winning this, now that the spell on the Well of Eternity had been lifted.

Or so Rhonin had said.

That had been part of the reason Illidan had come to find her. He'd spoken with Rhonin while waiting for her to awaken, and the red-haired sorcerer had surmised that Malfurion had succeeded in whatever it was he'd been trying to do back in Suramar. While it seemed like all of the sorcerers were elated at the return of their power, both Rhonin and Illidan were worried for Malfurion.

It was true that the spell being lifted boded well for the Night Elves, but if that was the case, then where was Malfurion? Why had he not arrived with Tyrande and Broxigar to join them at the camp?

Illidan was worried for his brother, and Eliana was worried for their people's survival.

She knew war was a morbid affair, filled with death and destruction and little cause for smiles, but the reality was always far worse than one thought. It seemed like there was constantly something for them to worry about.

The worst part of it all was that their only viable course of action was to wait. Lord Ravencrest had commanded that they do nothing until the scouting parties returned with news of Kalimdor's condition. Only then could the leaders of the army determine what their best plan would be.

However, waiting made soldiers restless, and even Eliana found herself shifting in place more often than not from impatience.

Illidan suffered from it far more than most. He paced back and forth relentlessly for the better part of the last few hours, and eventually, he pivoted on his heel to face Eliana.

"I'm going to see if I can find out anything about the status of those search parties. I'm anxious to return to the battlefield."

Concerned, Eliana cinched her eyebrows together. "Illidan, you've hardly rested. We don't know what Lord Ravencrest's plans will be. We could ride out in five minutes or five hours."

"Exactly, except it feels more likely to be five hours. We should hit them now, when they least expect it."

"And have half the troops keel over from exhaustion? Not everyone is gifted with the same amount of burning passion as you, you know." Though she was trying to convince him to rest, she made it sound like she was teasing him, lest he bristled.

An anxious Illidan made for a rather irritable Illidan, as she'd discovered during their wait. His only response to her comment was a grunt, and then he continued his incessant pacing. She sighed and sank down onto a crate that rested just outside her tent, her thighs aching in protest. The healer had mended the wound in her side, but they couldn't take away her soreness.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; she didn't want to forget the fact that she was lucky to be alive, while so many others were not.

A few minutes later, Illidan threw his hands up in the air and announced, "I'm going to speak to Lord Ravencrest. I'll be back momentarily," before stalking off in the direction of the commander's tent.