what the night elf intended. “You’re going to become a cat!”
“Is that fair enough a hunt?”
Varian chuckled, surprising himself. “It still won’t be enough, if you mean will you be more successful than me. Do we hunt together?”
“I thought we would meet back here. I will hunt this direction,” and he pointed slightly to the north. “And you can go that direction. I promise you will have plenty to pursue there.”
“Suits me.”
“Then the best of luck! May you find what you seek!” With that, the archdruid transformed. He slumped forward, falling upon all fours. His hands became padded paws with sharp claws and his garments melted into the ether, to be replaced by sleek, dark fur. His face widened and his nose and mouth became a blunt muzzle.
A powerful nightsaber stood next to the king.
“You’ll still need a lot of luck to do better,” Varian challenged, now completely caught up in the affair.
The cat rumbled in what could only be called an amused tone, then lunged off among the trees.
“Ha!” Varian did not let his opponent get very much of a leap ahead. The king darted into his area of the forest, his senses coming alive as he moved. Already he had the bow strung and an arrow nocked. The only other weapon was the knife he wore at his waist. That would only be needed if something happened to his bow or the prey survived his shot and he had to end its pain quickly.
His ears picked up movement. Varian smelled deer. It was impossible for him to describe to others how he became during a hunt save that the king transformed into something more . . . free.
Free.
The deer was close. Varian tightened his grip on the string. He rarely needed more than one shot to down his prey. He felt obligated to do his best to honor the kill, just as the night elf had indicated he did.
Much of Varian’s anger at Malfurion faded. The archdruid had found the one method by which to give the king some relief. He would thank Malfurion later—
The deer suddenly bolted into view. It ran toward him, not the direction Varian had anticipated. The animal, a young stag, charged into him, forcing the king to leap out of the way.
And as he did, he came face to face with another hunter.
A worgen.
The furred hunter looked more startled than Varian. The two faced off against one another as the stag fled to freedom.
“You . . . ,” rasped the worgen. “You’re—”
“Varian Wrynn!” snarled a hated voice.
A second worgen burst into the area. His fur was frost white save for the head and mane, which retained some charcoal black. The newcomer’s glittering blue eyes were filled with such bitterness that Varian instinctively held his bow ready. Behind the second worgen followed nearly a dozen others, all moving with a clear subservience to this later arrival.
“You’ve got a lot of gall coming here!” As the second worgen spoke, he changed. He shrank slightly and his fur seemed to just dissipate.
Genn Greymane gestured at the bow. “Fire away! You’ve already more or less struck me through the heart! My people will suffer for your choice—”
Varian lowered the bow. “I’ll not waste an arrow on you. Bad enough you’ve ruined my hunt! Did you hope to convince me to change my mind by coming here?”
“You talk madness! We always hunt here! You’re not far from our encampment and you know it!”
“I don’t—” The former gladiator realized that he had been outmaneuvered and he knew by whom. He looked around, no longer as furious with the Gilneans as he was with another. “Where are you, archdruid? You think this funny?”
“‘Archdruid’?” Genn looked baffled.
“I do not find anything humorous about the last few days’ events,” Malfurion Stormrage replied from behind Varian. “As for Genn and the other worgen hunting here, the knowledge had completely slipped my mind.”
The archdruid was the image of innocence. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Varian found he could not bring himself to accuse the night elf outright. Glancing at Genn, he saw that the other king felt likewise.
“This area is too crowded for hunting, Archdruid,” the lord of Stormwind finally remarked. “And I’ve lost my taste for it, anyway.”
“Good,” interjected Genn with a hint of disdain. “You’d probably end up blundering into us over and over as you go stomping through the forest, scaring off all the game. . . .”
“There’ll never be a day when I can’t outhunt you or any