Thirty-five years earlier, in the parallel world of Draenor, Nagrand Plains.
On a beautiful little hill that soothed the heart and cleared the mind, two uninvited guests had been camping for several days.
Garrosh carefully studied Nagrand's terrain. Over the past few days, he had seen no sign of Warsong scouts. This hill lay at the edge of Warsong Clan territory, and in peacetime there was simply no need to patrol here.
Groups of Ogres would only come from the west, while the other Orc clans came from the east. If Garrosh remembered correctly, no one would come hunting during this season either.
He remembered being very young the last time he had stood on this hill, and yet...
No. This was not the hill he had stood upon as a child. These were not the trees he had climbed, nor was this the grass his fingers had brushed over. This was an entirely different world.
"The world you see now will not be exactly the same as before. I spent my life studying time tunnels. If you insist on comparing every blade of grass one by one, you'll drive yourself mad."
Kairozdormu sat beside the extinguished campfire as he spoke to Garrosh.
Garrosh shielded his eyes from the glaring sunlight and stared across the plain beneath the setting sun.
This hill was a safe place to rest. If anyone intruded, the low, lush grass below would make them easy to spot.
Behind him, Kairozdormu lazily lay down, holding a massive curved hourglass before his eyes. Under the campfire's fading glow and the light of the sunset, it gleamed with bronze-gold radiance.
"I still suggest that you follow my plan. Go contact the Warsong Clan immediately. Give them your Hellscream name and tell them of your relationship with Grom. That