The sound of outraged troll cries echoed through the valley.
Ringo Flinthammer chuckled.
“Bloody Winterax are the stupidest o’ the trolls; they wait fer the Alliance and Horde tae a truce tae invade Alterac Valley again.”
“Nice of them to give Beli something to hit,” Kildris Blackfire said, surveying the valley from Dun Baldar’s South Bunker.
“When she’s away from the boy too long, she either hits the Horde or starts eyein’ me.”
“I can understand that.”
“Ah’m sorry; I dinnae think about yer wee one … is she stayin’ with yer ex-husband while ye were deployed?”
“No!” Kildris barked, halfway between a laugh and a snarl. “That idjit got some strange ideas after Ragnaros died. Joined the Twilight Hammer, went around tellin’ everyone there’s a ‘war on Winter Veil.’ There’s no war, it’s just not proper to assume! The draenei have one of their bloody depressing holidays this time of year, with lights and deprivation and all the rest! ‘Happy holidays’ is just good manners!”
“Right, aye,” Ringo said. “Well, your little girl should be happy to see ye; did ye pick her up a gift ta …”
There was a giant spray of snow as Beli skidded to a halt, spraying the entryway to the bunker with snow.
“Look what they’ve been breeding while we’ve been away! New rams!“
She leapt off the ram, throwing her arms around its neck.
“It’s a Winters Veil miracle.”
Kildris glanced at Ringo.
“Reckon my girl will be the only kid in Shadowforge with one of them, eh? A merry Feast of Winter Veil to all, then, and to all a good night.”