She stood on the cliff’s edge at Westgarde, breathing deeply. One foot was lifted, raised out, pressed against her knee, then her hands raised, and lowered to rest palms together in front of her chest. Wei breathed, letting out a puff of chilled air, and felt the breeze of the bay below ruffle her fur.
Despite all the troubles lately, this place felt safe. Ironic, perhaps. She felt calmer here, now, then she had in some months. Some place of strength had been reached, and she was filled with a sense of odd relief, peace even. She had to be strong, they gave her strength. Her fellow Templars needed some softness, needed some joy. The nightmares had faded. Murdhoc needed her too, she thought. He needed hope. They all did.
She breathed again, filling her lungs, her spirit, with pine scents and sea. Freedom. Energy. She shifted her pose, balancing delicately on her toe claws, breathed. Peace. There was chaos all around, be the centre of the storm. Breathe. The brief return to Pandaria had done so much good. What would come next?