A warm breeze blew in from the south, rippling the grass.
To the young Draeni something seemed wrong, missing, out of place.
The war had moved to the frozen shores Northrend,
Leaving Outlands, but for the occasional traveler, cut off from the world once again.
The adventurers had come and for a time and cut a swath through the land.
Blood had soaked the Outlands, from one end to the other.
That brought to mind what was different, Negrand stood empty.
Even the animals were gone.
As he rode away he thought briefly to himself.
What would Northrend look like in the years after we are done “saving” them?
Would it recover and thrive?
Would the blood truely make the grass grow greener?
Or would it be like the city of Shattrah he had rode through earlier.
The forgotten ghost of a bustling city,
It now sits quiet and dark.
Forgotten like so many other things after the gold rush has passed by.
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