I hate this place. Stormwind.

I lay stealthed, cat behind a bush. Enjoying the dappled sunlight on my fur. Warm. I fell asleep. Someone stepped on the tip of my tail. I made no noise. Stone still. Squinting my eyes against a ray of light, I looked to see who was standing on me. A tiny male. He had on a blue tabard. That ’s all. He walked around the bush and I poked my head through the low branches to watch him.

He walked toward a group. Strutted. The others began laughing. One of them threw up her hands and shook her head. The tiny man said,

“I am dressed like Nana.”

I looked to my right. The short woman I met on my journey was there, mouth
open. Sputtering. Red faced. More laughter. It sounded nice. I grinned. It was a game…this dressing thing. I watched as several of them changed garments. Nana (is that her name?) came behind the bush and I watched as
she put on some very colorful items. When she went back to the others, I
heard groans…I saw the smile on her face as she turned around, letting the
others see all of her.

Then. The fun ended. A woman sat twirling her knives behind the group. A
dark man pulled a knife. People began yelling. The tiny man called his mount and left, leaving the throng of loud, knife wielding people behind him. Smart. No scent of fear. Nana left too. Scent of confusion.

Posturing. Stomping. Screaming. Scent of anger, scent of fear. I watched
in horror as a male was stabbed in the throat. More rattling weapons and
voices. I left.

So. Others find it hard to survive this city as well. Strangely I am reassured by that. Comforted. This haven of nature is suffering. It seems the verbal and physical clashes among the denizens of this place are escalating.

I hate this place.