IV . Discovering Myself

The days and nights passed without event. People still dropped food whether by accident or by pity, and we guarded the city. A few of us were taken outside the walls, our elders who were skilled in the ways of their trade. They had not returned. We did not question, for we had no one to question; the paid guardians of the city had not returned either. Only we noticed the stillness in the air of the city, and we decided it was beyond our control.

I had befriended a fellow street rat. Most of us had factions, or small groups consisting of those with common interests and the like. I did not belong to one. Instead, I peered and listened in. They can come to accept this, and did not mind, for I had a valiant heart and knew when to speak and when to silence myself.

This fellow I had come to know was named Caspin. He was a younger boy in his mid-teens, aged by his status as poor. He had come to me when his elder father had been taken from the town. Never having been alone, he found me. I never abandoned my post; never needed to. I accepted the boy. I had been alone. My voice rasped into use, and we discussed things. I was to be discovered.

III . Moons Fly by Choice

From that day on we took the Waning Gibbous Moon as our symbol. As disappeared the beasts, the beautiful Gibbous did rise upon us, signaling a midnight twilight. She protected us. Though only human, we still felt a connection with the moon. Forced to live within the streets, it was our nightlight as it felt fit.

The next day went on without mention of the previous night's visitors. They had been silent, and swift, and left nothing but footprints behind as evidence, which quickly disappeared with the morning gusts of wind. All the people of the streets lay inactive. The rest went on with their daily business.

Despite this, the malaise and darkness within the dew-laden air settled on the shoulders of the citizens of Gilneas. Paranoia seemed rampant, despite its seeming lack of cause. Talk between the official guardians increased slightly, with troubled tones in their ranks. We watched them and we listened, and heard. And kept silent under the blessed Gibbous Moon as she faded slowly away.

II. Shadows Without Light

The town was aware of the threat that lie outside its walls. It was supposedly being kept in the highest confidence, but the lands' citizens were wise, and could decipher the clues.

For instance, they knew that there was a dark secret within the town, kept in cellars locked and untrodden by humans. What lie within these dark places, though, was unknown. Not a soul said a word the night that doors swung open and things were led out of the city in rows. They all knew what was happening, but kept silent. The night passed by without a shred of difference.

We, the walkers of the shadows and foundation of the cobbled streets, did feel concern. As the rest of the citizens curled and dreamt in their cozy beds, we lay on what we could find for comfort and listened. Under the eternal darkness of the night, dozens of foreign huffs and inhuman footsteps riddled the streets. The air felt heavy with malaise, and we felt each other stir through the vibrations of the streets. We began to feel our way toward the center of the town; a safety in numbers, so-to-speak. Voices of generals we all were familiar with or who had voices distinct of their ranking were heard. Street rats who didn't know one another clutched hands and arms in fear. A young child stifled a cry; she had felt the touch of one of the foreign things.

Closer and closer we came to one another, though the threat had long passed and may have left the city. Mumbles of vicious beasts with fangs and claws began to circulate. Some questioned the sanity of their leaders; others wondered if Gilneas was to fall. It remained as such into the early hours of the morn, when the twilight led us to dissipate to our home streets.

Our eyes struggled to make out dusty footprints on the ground as we returned. I made out only one distinct print: that of a wolf that took steps like a human, no jumbled double-prints from four paws touching down. Simply a clear print from a single step. A large one. A heavy one.

I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders, tattered and holed but still comforting like a mother. My dagger lay sheathed at my side. The sun had begun to rise upon the one peaceful town of Gilneas. I no longer trusted that this town would remain neutral. Something beyond us had stepped here. It would not be long before they returned.

The forests screamed.

I . The Streets of Gilneas

As the lives of street peasants went, ours were easier than most. Of course, we had no home. We would tread the aching streets as shadows and trash, but unlike in most lands, we were allowed this simple treasure. We could live, we could beg, and we could feed where food was left. We were not shunned. The people of Gilneas treated rats as neighbors. They treated us the same as the rats.

I am Wolveine. I am not special among the street rats. I have chosen a street and tend to stay there. My food comes from the same few locations, and I have befriended those fortunate enough to own houses. They know I have no choice in being what I am. The jobs are all taken, and with our being separate from the Alliance and the Horde, we lacked trade routes, and therefore supplies to build homes and fuel new jobs. None blamed our brilliant leader, the great Genn Greymane. We could not help the foolish wars outside of our kingdom destroy us. It was better we remain neutral, our lives intact, stable, and assured.

It was our great leader who spared we of little wealth the unkindness most towns would grace us with. He ensured we would be respected and safe by entrusting us with the protection of Gilneas. We would lurk every street and take down wrongdoers, keeping the city safe and the people good. It was a good deal for us all. We were given the best lives the cities could give us with what little it had, and the city was kept in peace. There was little conflict, and all was well.