Jarod had also indicated there was a need to speak to the worgen, but Maiev’s brother wanted to do it without his sister present. While the former guard captain had not said as much, his style of investigation was quite different from his sister’s. Both were very determined and known for getting the task done. Jarod, though, preferred a less brash, more subtle approach, which was also more to Malfurion’s tastes.
And with all the chaos going on at the moment, whatever little calm could be maintained was more than for what the archdruid could hope.
He should have waited for Malfurion, but Jarod could not contain his impatience any longer. Nor did he think that he could keep his intentions hidden from Maiev. That was why Jarod was already on his way to the area where he knew that he would find the group of worgen whom he had previously encountered. More important, he would find that one particular worgen.
Maiev had some other avenue of investigation that she wanted to pursue and had taken Neva with her, so Jarod was able to slip away fairly easily. His sister still did not entirely think him necessary to her work, but so long as he did nothing to interfere, anything he might accidentally discover she would accept.
Someday, perhaps we will understand one another better, Jarod thought as he neared the territory where he had last confronted the worgen.
He sensed the faint smell that he associated with the worgen. A musky sweat. The scent was faint, but that did not mean that the worgen were not nearby.
“Night elf . . .”
Even closer than I thought. . . . Jarod turned to face the worgen who had spoken. He did not recognize the markings, at least not as those of the one he sought.
“What do you do here, again?” the worgen growled.
So this is at least one of those from before. That pleased Jarod, for it saved time in having to explain just who he was. There were enough other things that he might have to explain.
“I would like to talk with one of you. The one who was in charge the last time I was here.”
The worgen cocked his head. He sniffed the air, and Jarod realized that the Gilnean was taking in the intruder’s scent, perhaps even marking whether there was the sweat one associated with lying or fear.
“I know of whom you speak. He’ll not want to talk with you.”
“I would just like to have the chance. Let him say so and I will leave.”
The worgen’s ears flattened and his brow furrowed. Finally, reluctantly, he gestured the direction Jarod had been heading. “That way. Not far.”
When the lupine figure did not move, the night elf turned and started walking as indicated. Although he did not hear the worgen behind him, he knew that the creature was following.
They climbed a short hill, then descended the other side. Jarod could not help but feel that more eyes now watched him from beyond the surrounding trees.
Without warning, another worgen leapt into sight in front of them. Having expected something, Jarod did not even flinch as the newcomer first landed on all fours, then sleekly rose to face the night elf.
It was the worgen for whom he had been searching. The fur was unmistakable. What was also unmistakable was the worgen’s displeasure at Jarod’s arrival.
“You . . . you shouldn’t have ever come back here. . . . ” To the worgen who had led the night elf to this place, he growled, “And you should know better!”
The other Gilnean’s ears flattened and a slight whining sound escaped him. The second worgen dismissed him with a curt wave that displayed for Jarod the long, so very sharp claws.
The chief worgen then turned his gaze toward the trees. Ears pricking up, he let out a slight snarl.
Jarod heard nothing, but a few seconds later the worgen relaxed slightly.
“We’re alone now,” the worgen announced with confidence.
The night elf did not ask how the other could be certain. He trusted in the worgen’s senses. “I appreciate your talking with me—”
“I’ve not said I would! You should’ve known the last time you were here that you weren’t wanted!”
As he spoke, the worgen’s muzzle neared Jarod’s face. One snap from the savage jaws could have easily ended the conversation—provided the Gilnean could have accomplished that before Jarod’s sword impaled him. That the night elf kept the blade at his side and not in his hand in no manner gave the worgen