Sylvanas poured some water onto a piece of cloth and wiped her face, after which she splashed some more water on her face and sat down on the floor, her back against the supply crates, enjoying the coolness of the water. Lips cracked and parched, she sipped some water and closed her eyes, imagining, not for the first time, sitting by the sea on one of Sunstrider Isle’s many beaches, the cool breeze blowing across her face.
She remained like that for a few minutes, until fatigue and hunger brought her back to the harsh reality of the Maw. With a sigh of resignation, she rose and, with slow, weary movements, removed her chainmail armor. Wearing only light leather pants and a thin cloth shirt, she looked absently at the meager food options in front of her, her mind wandering. As much as she tried to concentrate, her attention kept returning to the question of the Eastern Maw. No one had imposed on her the obligation to hunt down and eliminate the jailor’s minions, but every fiber in her was crying out for action. After all, the mission to rescue souls had been herculean, but finite, as Pelagos apparently resisted the idea of sending any new souls to the Maw. And since she didn’t see any prospect that she could ever leave that place again, it would be better to find an honorable task that would occupy her, even if it cost her life.
Still undecided on what to eat, she picked up her cloak and absentmindedly draped it over her shoulders. Not that she was feeling cold, something practically impossible to happen in that place, but the cave was considerably cooler than the environment outside and without the armor covering her body, she felt almost naked. Besides, there was always the possibility that some creature would manage to overtake the Covenant troops in the narrow passage that connected both sides of the Maw and find the camp while she slept. Despite all the protections she’d been careful to put in place, she’d rather be wearing something more than a shirt if she had to go into combat. Also, the enchantment applied to the cape would grant her a little bit more agility. It wasn’t ideal, but experience had taught her that it was very uncomfortable to sleep in full armor.
A moment later, crouched by a small pile of firewood, Sylvannas was about to light the fire to prepare a meal when she sensed that something was different. After living in that cave for so long, she knew every stone and every smell of that place. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was or where it came from, but there was a faint smell that wasn’t familiar to her. Something had been in the cave during her absence. “Was here or is it still here?”
Rising to her feet with slow movements, she bent backwards, as if straightening her back. She discreetly took a step to the side, approaching her bow. A suspicion crossed her mind, and she stood there staring at the wall in front of her. Turning her head slightly to the right, she thought she heard a faint whisper, like a very faint breathing, inaudible to most creatures, but at the edge of perception for a trained elf. “So, you are a living creature and not a ghoul.” Living beings could be as or more dangerous than ghosts and demons, but she had never felt comfortable in the presence of non-living beings. It had served as extra torture during her time as a banshee and Arthas had certainly been amused by it.
