Daughter of Azeroth

48 | THE MESSAGE

But Logan didn't leave after a week. Instead, five months of productive, labour-filled days slid by before he finally decided things at the farm were in good enough shape for him to admit there wasn't any more reason for him to stay. It seemed to Idira once he knew he could leave his disappointments in Westfall behind, he relaxed, his agitation and resentment dissipating and his easygoing nature returning.

Over the months, he had hunted out big jobs that needed doing, poking around the farm, looking for problems and bringing them up over dinner, suggesting he help with them before leaving, oblivious to the knowing looks Unambi shot Idira over his mug of coffee.

With the abundance of shipwrecked wood washed up along the beach, he was able to build a dock so they could put their crab pots out much further into the sea. Then he set his mind to rebuilding the chicken coop. He then declared the kitchen garden wasn't enough for their needs, so he spent a month creating a beautiful garden in the front yard by building a dozen raised beds made from ship timber and filled with fertilised soil. Already the planted boxes had begun to burst to life, filled with new green things, unfurling their nascent leaves to the sun. Idira savoured the sight, anticipating how beautiful the farm would look once all the beds filled out; an oasis of green in a world of desiccated browns and yellows.

Not satisfied with his work, Logan built a little stone enclosure around Blackie's grave and together with Unambi they transplanted wild catnip Logan had found growing north of the farm near the river's boundary to Elwynn Forest. Now a riot of purple flowers waved in the breeze, attracting butterflies and fat bees, the sight warming Idira's heart.

As she sat on the rocking chair on the porch, a book on her lap and the rays of the setting sun on her shoulders, Idira realised they hadn't seen a single transient for at least a month, not even while out at the wheat field, a ten minutes' walk distant. Peace, of a sort it seemed, had finally returned to Westfall. Although she never said anything, a part of her thought perhaps this new Marshal of Westfall might be more than capable of his job. She hoped Vanessa had seen sense and given up her game now someone with power and clout had arrived, his presence supported by the might of Stormwind.

Within the house, Idira could hear Logan and Unambi conversing as they played cards, talking about rotating the wheat fields to spare the soil, and Logan's planned departure first thing in the morning.

She smiled, completely at ease. Life felt good. The hard edges of the memory of the dragon's devastation had finally begun to fade, her pain from the loss of her cat joining the hidden place in her heart where all her other hurts lived, silent, and still, buried but never forgotten. She glanced at Blackie's little plot, overflowing with spreading catnip, and busy with bees, still gathering nectar even as the sun set. Blackie would have loved that. She hoped she was safe and happy now, out there somewhere with the Light.

She turned back to her book and lifted it up with a sigh. Realising she had lost her page, she leafed through the book, lazy. Over the top of her book, movement caught her eye. A gleam, flashing every now and again in the lowering light. She stood up, squinting, trying to focus. The gleam merged into a horse and rider. The glint came again. Armour. She backed up, her heart tight. A soldier, headed straight for the house.

'Logan?' Idira called out, as she edged to the door, hoping whomever it was hadn't seen her yet. She slid inside.

'Someone's coming,' she breathed.

Logan got up and reached for his sword. 'More transients?' he asked. 'I thought the influx was finally over. I guess I'll have to stick around a little while longer, after all.' He smiled, cocky. 'No problem.'

'It's a soldier,' Idira murmured, feeling her heart begin to pound. Something terrible was going to happen, she could feel it. 'He's wearing armour and riding a horse.'