A Tale of Morning
The world spun around and around in a blur. It was dark here, not the black of night but dimmer than where she had been. The babble of running water rang in her ears in time with the pulsing throb of her pulse against her temples. Her breathing slowed as things grew darker, the throbbing in her head and the water was all there was to hear. The earthy smell of the forest floor, moss and dirt was the last thing she remembered.
An explosion of light blinded her. The world seemed to be put on mute until she became aware of her panting sobs. Slowly the light grew less blinding and the silhouettes of tree branches and leaves spider webbed along her field of view. Every inch of her small body ached as she sat up, and it occurred to her only after a tear drop hit her leg that the sobs were hers. Wide eyes looked around and saw the brook, who’s babbling filled her ears once more and the stoic, lumbering pine trees stretching into eternity. With a trembling voice she called, “Mommy!”
The forest did not answer her. Sitting there by the stream bank she started to think. Her neck felt like it would break as she turned her head to look. A trail of mud and exposed limbs and rocks showed the not so neat little line down a steep hill that ended where she sat. She called for her mother again but it came out as a faint whisper. The forest still did not answer.
Laerchel opened her eyes, one leg dangled idly off the thick tree branch that had been her bed. She lay still listening to the breeze rustling the tree branches. Blinking sent a stream of moisture down the sides of her face. She thought nothing of it continued to lay there a shadow in the quiet of the morning.
Compendium of Azerothian Tales 
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