A Reply in Three Parts

 Specialist Black,

It's five in the morning on the Rampart of Skulls.   I'm here on lookout with a dwarf named Buzzbeard.  At least that's what we call him, and he doesn't seem to mind.  He's on watch now, and I'm supposed to be resting.  Every time I close my eyes though I hear the voices again, singing.  They don't want me to leave them, so I can't fall asleep.  In camp it's easier, with the sounds of everyone moving about.  Since I couldn't sleep I thought I might as well try to write, though forgive my handwriting as there isn't much light to see by.

Strange how the morning comes here, so slowly, sunrise taking hours of time.  It's five in the morning and there's just a tint of light around the edges of the mountains, but the sky above is still wholly black. It will be my watch again before the sun peeks up.  We've been issued these helmets that have lenses in the visors, that help us to see when it's like this, but it's still strange.  Mostly the helmets are for filtering the air, an attempt to protect us from the plague.  They seem to be helping with that but they're damned heavy and awkward and make every breath smell like old wool socks.

Anyway, I wanted to say I'm sorry.  I didn't thi

I didn't get lucky that time.  In the middle of writing this Buzzbeard touched my arm, told me to look, and there on the ramparts at five in the morning was a platoon of Scourge - five constructs, at least two servants and an abomination in the back.  Two gargoyles were overhead but we spotted them before they spotted us.  Buzzbeard worked up a distraction and started moving while I lit the signal back to base camp.  We weren't supposed to skirmish but Buzz fouled up and I had no choice but to start shooting. 

We had two things on our side: we'd built up a bit of a natural bottleneck on the ramparts there, and we had our range.  A Servant caught sight of Buzz, started whipping frostbolts our way.  They didn't know just what lay up ahead, so they sent the gargoyles down, which both got a glimpse of us.  One started spitting while the other reported back, and soon the damned constructs are tearing away at our little mantlets.  Buzz was on one side of the narrow and myself on the other, and we were shooting across each other's line of fire, trying to pick off as many as we could before the abomination came up.  I figured once that hook got into our defenses we wouldn't hold out long.

Right then a construct managed to scramble over the junk I was crouched behind and got a blade up under my right pauldron.  It felt like fire, then quickly become so numb it scared me.  I pulled my sword with my other hand and started hacking at the thing, and bits were being picked off by Buzz.  When it finally fell to pieces I started to get up, only to find a gargoyle had my foot, and, well - you told me yourself what they're apt to do.  We don't get parachutes regularly issued here either.  I was hanging on to anything I could get my good hand on and kicking at it like mad, but it got me up about ten feet before our buddies arrived and shot it down.  I landed half on my head and half on my torn up shoulder and was out for the rest of the day.

I woke up in the camp infirmary with a Luminary pouting over me, hands spread in all kinds of healing spells over my shoulder. As soon as she saw I was awake she started plying me with potions; I don't argue with Draenei - they just start speaking Draenic at you and then it's all over.  My shoulder didn't seem bad, just a long deep cut - painful now that they'd gotten the Scourge stuff out - but she was worried about infections and the plague.  The worst is mostly under control now but they've still been taking precautions.

The potions made me feel like I was going to be sick, so I couldn't sleep even after I had been left alone to rest.  I thought it was a good time to finish this letter, so I dug it out of my things by my cot here.  Maybe it's the pain or the stillness or something about just lying here waiting to be fit again, but I was just thinki

Well, Luminary Xellas wouldn't let me finish.  She had all my things taken away to be cleansed and poured a sleeping potion down my throat, insisting I should rest and definitely not write, as that could jostle my wound and cause any lingering motes of plague to spread and possibly kill me and the entire company.  Light forfend I try to write a letter. 

They did, however, bring me yours.  I had some time to read it, to say the least.

I've been posted to light duty until I fully recover, which for now means a watch post on the parapet used for, well to say it plainly, necessary relief; I keep an eye out for Horde and Scourge while soldiers use the head.  Glamorous, I know.  It's been a day filled with bouts of idle chatter - everyone seems to feel the need to talk as they come by, as if to ignore the awkwardness - and long stretches of utter silence.  It's given me a lot of time to think.

I was glad to get your letter - excited, even, as I had been honestly wondering if Bek had reached you.  I'm relieved to hear he did, and that he brought one of his famous fruit baskets as well as his cheerful disposition and enthusiasm for enjoying life.  That Draenei would come to Shadowmoon and make it feel like a holiday.  I hope he did the same for you - sunbathing and ice-cream sounds like it. 

I am truly sorry for... disturbing you with the drawing I sent.  I certainly had no idea I would, but I should have thought on that before sending it. I'm not even sure why I did.  Perhaps I just wanted to share the pasttime of a few endless hours here.  I don't know, but I'm sorry.  I'm very sorry for the thoughts and feelings it brought to you that drove you to step off this world entirely.

I am wondering if it is good for us to write to each other at all.  Granted, I've been thankful for the contact and of course your information.  On the other hand, your letters have me thinking about things that haven't crossed my mind in years.  I read of walks through Stormwind and fireworks and green dresses and Nagrand and sunbathing and ice-cream and my mind wanders from this place.  It was wandering when that Scourge crept up on us the other morning.  Would I have been sharper otherwise?  Would I have not gotten this cut through my shoulder, and this watch on this quiet parapet where there's nothing to do but think?

I don't mind, really.  It almost feels like relief, to be back and away from the front lines of the fighting.  Somewhere I can let myself go a little.  It's not easy to relax.  As you said, it's not easy.

I don't wish to cease these letters, Credence.  I certainly don't wish to.

And please, just Echo.  No miss or marksman or lieutanent.  It's unnecessary outside of this place. 

Enjoy the Nagrand sun.  Be well.
Echo