“Come, Metis!” Mezumiiru called out to her companion, a great horned owl she met in Darnassus in the early days of her training on Azeroth. The owl swooped from up high, hooting in excited tones as it slowed and perched on Mezumiiru's shoulder. “It's good to be away from all the conflict for once, right? Arathi is so much more peaceful than the Badlands.” Metis cooed and prepared for a nap when a distant gunshot jolted her into a defensive stance; her wings wide, reaching a wingspan of nearly a meter.
“Calm down, Metis.” Mezu said as she stroked the back of Metis' head. “Probably the Orcs from Hammerfall getting into a fight with the soldiers of Refuge Pointe again. You know how that is, although I had hoped it would have calmed down after the Cataclysm.” Metis looked grumpy and made a low growl, flying up again to go scout. Mezumiiru was used to this kind of behaviour. All she had to do was wait for her to return and she would know what was the matter. But Metis did not return.
“Metis?” she shouted, “Metis! Where are you?” Mezumiiru ran in the direction her companion had flown. No sounds were heard, no gunshots, no shrieks; nothing. Damnit, Metis! Never fly off on your own like that again!
A gunshot sounded, and another and another. In the distance she saw small smoke-pufts appear from bullets that missed their target. Mezumiiru fastened her pace and unsheathed her staff, anticipating she had to mingle in some conflict. So much for being away from conflict. She thought.
She could see them fighting in the disance: Humans and Orcs, battling over the farmlands in Arathi. Some of the Orcs pointed towards the sky with their Bows and Guns, aiming for Metis who skillfully dodged everything, and occasionally swooped down and even took an Orc down before veering back into the sky. With this relief, Mezumiiru rushed over the hills with increased vigor and jumping over a rock to cleave an Orc on half. If only the Orc hadn't seen her.
The Orc grunted and jumped back, readied an arrow onto his bow, aimed, shot, and scarcely missed, scraping Mezumiiru's shoulder. She charged at the Orc, enchanting her staff with Flametongue, cast Earth Shock with coördination only a Shaman of the Draenei could accomplish, stunning the Orc. She finished the combo with a swift whack of her staff. Years of training paid off. What is.. my arm is getting numb?
The Orc grinned as he recovered, “You Draenei are so weak to poisons and venoms, just like on Draenor! Enjoy the numbness while I launch an arrow in your pretty little face!” he slowly stepped closer and once more readied an arrow. A loud shriek made the Orc look back.
Mezumiiru couldn't see it clearly, but the orc moved frantically, dropped his bow and started clawing at his face. He eventually took an arrow from his quiver and motioned to stab whatever was assailing him. She heard a shlunk, and the Orc collapsed. A small form approached Mezumiiru and started cooing, the sounds around her becoming more faint each second. “Metis..” she said drousily, “You.. came.. back..”
Metis cooed, rubbing her head against Mezumiiru's hand, trying to comfort her. Mezu wanted to smile, but she had no strength left in her. In the distance she heard muffled voices, shadows crept towards her. She knew from their silhouette they were Human.
Despite being extremely tired, she did not fall asleep. Mezumiiru heard hardly anything, her sight was bad, but her sense of touch remained intact: She could feel everything.
What sort of vile poison did the orc use on me? She thought as she rocked from side to side on the horse. She was not comfortable.
After some time her hearing got better, but her sight did not.
“Who's the fancy little lass you get there, Bulferd?”
“Shut it, Makk. We found her in the field. She was unconscious by one of the Orc's venoms. I'm merely bringing her in for safety, and then I'm off to the farms again. We still have to fight the Orcs for that ram-shackle hold of theirs.”
“And we're stuck in a ditch. So how's that any better?”
Bulferd sighed and moved on, Mezu could hear and feel.
“Don't worry, lass.” he said, “You'll be safe soon. Just down this hill, and we'll be at the camp, far from the conflict.”
Mezumiiru felt grateful. She needed to remember his name if she ever wanted to thank him when she regained all her abilities. But for now she needed to rest, and she knew she was safe.
She felt herself being lifted from the horse, a man calling for aid, and then she was put on something soft. It felt like grass, or some very comfortable straw-bedding. Her weariness lowering, she felt her eyelids grow heavy once more, and as she felt Metis crawling up to her, she slowly drifted asleep.