Leafsong’s feet pounded the cobbles as she raced through the streets of Stormwind, leaving indignant cries and muttered curses in her sharp-elbowed wake. One refined madam with a fur stole nearly took a plunge into the canal as Leafsong rudely barged past her. The dowager let loose a stream of unladylike blasphemy as Leafsong’s white curls flashed around a corner.

A few moments later, Leafsong arrived at the Royal Post Sorting Office, an expansive building in the Trade District. Charging breathlessly up to the counter, she gasped out her old address.

“GHE branch, The Park, Stormwind,” repeated the postmaster, bending beneath the counter to check in the stacks of undelivered mail. “Ah, yes, here we go- um- the Royal Post is not responsible for breakages…”

Leafsong ignored the crumpled package and instead snatched up the thin vellum envelope with her name on it. Ripping open the side, she poured over the contents of the letter with increasing dismay. After several minutes of comparison with a second letter she had taken from her pocket, she let out a howl of dismay.


Later, in the house, Ashamal stalked the small living room, pacing around Analith and Mirae as they played with glass animals on the rug. Leafsong sat slumped in the armchair, the twins in her lap, looking mutinous.

“What on earth possessed you to sign up for this damned thing, anyway?” he snarled eventually, tossing the letter to the rug. Analith snatched it up and began to gnaw, hungrily.

“It were seven months ago!” wailed Leafsong pathetically, extracting a curl from Flora’s chubby fist. “I ‘ad just had the twins. I was feeling flabby!”

“But- this! A boot camp run by Sentinels?! What were you thinking, it’ll be a week of torture! You’ll never hack it.”

“I knooooow” she moaned, bowing her head. “I can’t pretend to be sick though, Sentinel Captain Dawnwing saw me carrying twenty eight pumpkins at once across the field yesterday.”


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    Aphel said,



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