Tazeria lay awake in the warm, small bed inside the Stormwind Orphanage, having yet to open her eyes to the still dark, pre-dawn room. A slight ruffle of movement from the bed next to hers slowly roused her eye lids open. Her sister, Taneria, lay sleeping peacefully for the first time in the six weeks since they had come to the Home.

A tinge of guilt washed over Tazeria with sharp clarity, instantly clearing away any sleepiness that remained in her brain.

She sat up and reached to open the small drawer of the bedside stand where she had placed the seven sealed letters the night before. Each envelope bore a name penned in her hand; she thumbed through the short stack and found the one addressed to Taneria, removed it, and quietly leaned over to the adjoining bed to slip it beneath the sleeping elfling’s pillow.

As Tazeria gazed at her sleeping sister, hot tears welled at the back of her eyes and she fought them with all she could muster. “There will be no tears,” she thought, her mind was made up. She leaned over and brushed a light kiss on Tan’s forehead and tucked the white flannel blanket snugly around her sleeping sibling.

Quietly, Tazeria made her way across the room to the armoire where she kept her things. She carefully opened the door to the cabinet minding that the small, metal hinges didn’t squeak. The elfling had always been good at sneaking around and often had breakfast made and ready for the family without ever waking a single person.

Her hand found her knapsack, which she had already packed full the night before, after everyone had gone to bed. She slide her feet into knee high black leather boots then pulled the black leather wrap from the last peg inside the wardrobe and slide her arms inside the cozy fur lining; then pulled the leather straps tight around her waist.

Arturok had made the wrap and matching boots for Tazeria as her birthday present, but gave them to her a week ago. Art had never been one to wait to give a gift, always seeming more excited and eager to see the response from the recipient than to bother with keeping to a date.

Taz closed the door soundlessly and crept from the room, silently stepping down the wide staircase, in to the Centreroom. Treading softly, she came to the thin wooden door that led to the kitchen. The kitchen was dark with the exception of a few smoldering, red embers peeking beneath some gray covered ash in the hearth.

There was a bowl of winter apples in the middle of the large butcher block counter, of which she took four and stuffed them in a small knotted sack. Half a dozen left over biscuts from dinner the previous night, followed the fruit in to the bag. She crossed a few steps to the icebox at the other side of the room and opened it. Peering inside she wrinkled her nose, “ Brie,” she thought, “what is it with these humans and cheese?”