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When the ship rolled in, a damp fog coated the area. It clung to their clothes, flattened their hair, caught in their throats. Ralaea took one step onto the dock. Then another. She could see the beginnings of an outpost, with scattered tents and people hard at work unpacking supplies. Behind her the boat emptied, as the Argent Crusaders scattered to get settled in before receiving their orders.
So this was Northrend. It looked the same as anywhere else despite the cold, but that was probably because she couldn’t see far in the fog. Many soldiers were weary from the boat ride, as the storm and ice formations had kept them on edge, but Ralaea had never slept better. Dangerous ice, stormy seas…nothing could have kept her from this place. And now she was here.
Beside her, Brendol glanced back out towards the open sea. “That wasn’t…too bad?” The anxiety in his expression was obvious. Westwinds were always easy to read.
“She’ll be fine.” Ralaea continued off the dock onto solid ground. “Cobalt Company will take precautions. They take care of their own.”
Brendol hurried to catch up with her. “I-I wasn’t worried!”
At her other side, Tabiana smiled. “Nobody said you were.”
Brendol stuffed his hands into his pockets, grumbling.
As they neared the center of the camp, a young man wearing an old Argent Dawn tabard—maybe he hadn’t received the new one yet— approached them, his eyes fixed on Ralaea’s own tabard. He hesitated only slightly upon seeing Tabiana.
“E-excuse me, you’re…Ralaea, right?” His nervous eyes kept darting to Tabiana.
“What do you need, Private Henson?” Tabiana smoothly intervened.
“I…” The Private’s voice appeared to catch, and he fidgeted with the edge of his tabard. “We were unloading the animals. One of them…belongs to Ralaea Westwind. I was asking around, and was told she’d be wearing a Cobalt Company tabard. I just…thought she might want to see to him herself? Get everything set up with the stables?”
Ralaea frowned around her goggles. “I didn’t bring any animals. Lady Ember stayed behind.”
“Are you sure it belongs to her?” Tabiana asked.
“Well…yes. All the travel paperwork was filled out, and her name’s on it…” Private Henson looked between Ralaea and Tabiana. “I don’t know what we’ll do with him if you’re not going to look after him. He is a highly trained battle ram, I’m sure he’d do well by you.”
“Alright, alright,” Ralaea crossed her arms. “I’ll handle the stabling. Bring him out for me?”
The Private brightened, and hurried to do as he was asked.
“A ram?” Brendol looked just as confused as Ralaea felt. “What’s going on?”
“Perhaps there was a mix-up somehow?” Even Tabiana wore a thoughtful frown. “Though that would be hard to do…”
The three of them found a spot to stand out of the way, so as not to interfere with the workers, and waited. Ralaea would have liked to have gotten the lay of the land, but the swirling fog made that impossible. Oh well. It had to clear eventually.
Private Henson returned before long, leading a grey shaggy ram that looked as though its time at sea had not been pleasant. Its coat was a tangled mess, its horns were scuffed, and the way it dragged its hooves on approach told Ralaea the creature was exhausted.
“It looks like he’s going to need some work,” she said, taking the lead rope from the Private. “But first we’ll get him a place to rest.”
“Thank you, Private.” Tabiana offered him a quick smile. The Private beamed back and scurried off to tend to other duties.
“Someone’s got to know something about this,” Ralaea said, starting towards the stables. “We’ll ask around.”
The ram dragged itself tiredly behind her.
The stables were roughly made, something set up in a hurry until better accommodations could be built most likely, but Ralaea found the best stall she could for her unexpected ram. It did not object to being stabled, leaving Ralaea free to look around for someone who could answer her questions. Brendol found the Head Stable Master, an elderly man who looked like he still had years of fight in him, hanging up equipment, and armor, and saddlebags near each occupied stall. He glanced at them as they approached, but continued his work.
“Something I can help you with?” he asked, hoisting a particularly large saddle up onto well-placed hooks sticking out of the wall.
“That ram over there.” Ralaea pointed at the creature. “What’s his story?”
The Stable Master leaned back to follow her gesture, then nodded, returning to his work. “You Ralaea, then?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “Some kid brought ‘im by, said he was sendin’ him out here on your behalf. Had all the paperwork filled out, payment handled…no reason to refuse him. From the look of it, he probably bought the ram, too. Am I close?”
“Was it a Death Knight?” Ralaea stared the man down, but he didn’t slow, continuing his work with a passive, dismissive attitude, as though he had seen all the world had to offer and was wiser for it.
“Does it change anything if it was?” he asked simply. “It’s not the ram’s fault, and he’ll still be needing someone to look after ‘im.”
Ralaea glared at Tabiana and Brendol, but from the look of it, this was the first they were hearing of it too. She glanced towards the west, and hoped a certain someone out there could feel her eyes on him.
“No,” she said, with a resigned sigh. “It doesn’t change anything. Not yet. It’s not the ram’s fault, as you said.”
The Stable Master rolled his shoulders, preparing to lift another large saddle, one belonging to an Elekk. Tabiana stepped in to help him. “Got a name for ‘im?” he asked. “Be nice if I had something to call ‘im.”
Ralaea glanced at the ram, the creature that was to be her partner through Northrend, and maybe beyond. The beast that was the first animal she had ever owned, whose grey coat matched how she felt about the one who had gifted him to her. “Widow,” she said, and so he was named.
The Stable Master fixed her with a sharp gaze, one that saw through all her thoughts and feelings and into her core. And then he nodded once, acknowledging it all without judgment.
“Widow?” Brendol asked. “But isn’t that a woman, when her husband dies and leaves her beh—”
Tabiana elbowed him in the ribs before he could finish. “Widow. You’re certain?” she asked. “It will be a constant reminder.”
“Like I could ever forget.”
Leaving the two of them to stare after her, Ralaea borrowed a brush from the Stable Master, and disappeared into Widow’s stall. Those tangles wouldn’t right themselves, after all.