** 1ST PLACE WINNER in THE ANGEL AWARDS 2017, FANFICTION CATEGORY**
Illidan picked Sarah up, cradling her to his chest. To all assembled he spoke, "We go to Suramar, there we will bring an end to the Legion." Glancing down at the body of the young w...
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It was evident that Sarah was in a very dark mood as the day progressed. She had been inordinately quiet after her draenei friend left. Shortly after she locked herself away in her room.
Drew's concern intensified when she refused to come out not only when Erik announced lunch, but also later when dinner was ready. The contrast between Sarah's mood from morning to early evening was alarming.
"Erik, what 's wrong? I know something has been said or done to upset her, but I don't know what and I feel helpless." The faithful puppy paced up and down in front of the fire.
The hunter dwarf knew Lukha had taken it upon herself to tell Sarah about Khadgar. It was not something he could do – he wasn't exactly the most tactful of individuals. As he had expected, the girl had not taken it well. It was not his place, however, to discuss it. Relationships were private and he felt offering any opinion on Sarah and Khadgar's relationship would be disrespectful to both. He did, nevertheless, feel sorry for Drew. The lad was obviously very concerned for his friend. "Ye should really be asking hur, lad, no me."
"But she won't open the door!" Drew gestured with a wave of his hand.
"Jist wait 'til she's ready tae talk, which ..." he said looking in the direction of her room, "... might be a while."
Drew started pacing back and forth, frustration and concern written plainly on his face. The dwarf was starting to get edgy as a result. "Look, let's gan oot for a while, she'll come roond in hur ain time."
"I can't leave her, Erik. I'm sorry. But, if you need to go out I understand. I will stay here and hopefully, she will come out "
Erik nodded, giving the excuse he had some things he needed to see to.
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Inside her room, Sarah sat on the edge of her bed staring out the small window. For some time she simply looked over the hills, seeing nothing, hearing nothing – just wondering why she had bothered stepping through that portal in her living room.
Countless hours had been spent trying to rationalise the strange events that had taken place in her life mere weeks before. It did not require the intervention of a therapist to tell her what state her heart was in. Broken; trying desperately to mend by way of sutures made from pointless, wasted hope. But hope nonetheless.
