Light of the New Moon 2
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The trickle of water as it flowed against rock greeted the druid as he regained consciousness. He groaned as he sat up, the pain in his neck dulled somewhat. The flow of blood had ceased some time ago. He realised immediately that he was no longer in the form of a cat. He was kaldorei once more, for how long he did not know. The curse that now coursed through his body would eventually transform him into a monster.
The night elf raised his hand to feel the wound on his neck, his fingers tentatively traced along the marks left behind by the worgen's bite. It stung slightly at the touch, which drew a wince out of the usually tenacious druid. When he removed his hand he noticed that it was covered in blood. He could not let anyone see this, he did not want them to know. With this resolve in mind, he braced himself against a nearby tree in order to get back on his feet. The nearby stream would cleanse his body of the filth that stained it. The kaldorei almost stumbled as he took his first few steps, his strength greatly reduced in his weary state. He took a moment to regain his balance, then continued.
There was very little light beneath the canopy of the forest, however as a night elf he possessed sight that was the envy of diurnal beings. His eyes glowed a golden hue in the darkness of night, a beacon of light in an otherwise forsaken place. His long pointed ears were also of aid, as they helped the druid locate the source of the sound that indicated an aqueous flow. Grateful that he had made his way without further hinderance, the night elf emerged from the trees. He carefully removed his clothing until he was naked, his toned body exposed to the crisp night air. The kaldorei waded barefoot into the flow of water, the smooth stones beneath his feet caressed his skin as they slithered about under the force of his weight. He crouched down and quickly splashed himself with the cool liquid. He carefully rubbed away at the congealed blood on his neck and shoulder until it vanished into the flow of the stream. All that remained as evidence of a fight were feint lines in this pale blue skin where he had been bitten and scratched. Satisfied, and somewhat refreshed, he exited the water and quickly clothed himself, unconcerned that his dry clothes were dampened by his still wet body.
The druid set off in the direction of the camp he and his companion had established earlier that day. Twigs and dead leaves were crushed beneath the elf's feet as he ambled through the woods, his concern not for the danger of another worgen attack but rather for what his friend would think of him when it was discovered he was now cursed. The time to make a plan was short, for in the distance he could make out the glow of a campfire between the trunks of the trees. Without any excuse prepared, he stepped into the small clearing.
In the centre of the camp was a modest fire, just enough to keep those nearby warm. A medium tent was erected nearby. Of human design, it was a simple triangular prism, the white fabric stood out against the natural greens and browns of the forest. Beside the fire sat another kaldorei, the druid's friend.
"Oregos," the night elf greeted, his eyes betrayed the concern that his otherwise passive face withheld. "I was beginning to worry, you have been gone a while. Did you have any trouble?"
"No, Kalo, no trouble," Oregos lied, his head turned away slightly to hide the bite marks on his neck. "I needed to bathe, that's all. Took longer than I thought it would."
"I see," Kalo nodded with understanding. "Care for something to eat? I know how hungry you get after scouting."
"No, I'm fine. I'm actually kind of tired. I think I'll get some rest."
Kalo's forehead furrowed slightly, but nodded his head anyway. "If you think it's best. Sleep well my friend."
It pained him to lie to Kalo like that, but he could not see any other option. As much as this people wanted to help the worgen, they were still uneasy about them. Many secretly feared that they may become a worgen themselves and so distanced themselves from the beasts in order to prevent such an eventuality. No matter how open they were about making amends, that fear remained ever present. Oregos knew he did not have long until he transformed. He wanted to say something that would be appropriate, something that conveyed how much he would miss their friendship without revealing the truth.
"Good night," was all he could muster.