I finally made it home, only to catch a cold from my dad. Aside from coughing, he was doing fine—energetic and out and about every day—but I came down with a fever. Yesterday it was 38.3 degrees. I went to bed at seven last night, and when I got up early this morning, I still had a low-grade fever. Now I'm coughing so hard I'm practically squeezing tears out of my eyes. Getting wrecked by my dad right at the start of the new year really sucks...
So I might not be able to keep up the pace of two chapters a day for the next few days, but I'll do my best not to miss an update. Updates will be a little later than usual over the next few days. Now, on to the story—
The sparse stars gradually faded from sight, and the distant eastern horizon began to brighten. Rolling hills and an immense, ancient city wall appeared and disappeared in the faint light of dawn. A thin layer of white frost covered the withered grass, and a huge brown boot crunched across the frozen winter earth of the plain.
"Well done, Gul'dan."
Orc Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer glanced at the towering wall, which seemed almost to blend into the hills, and grinned fiercely. His sharp tusks reflected a cold, sinister glint.
"Though I've always hated the stench of dark magic about you, I have to admit that this time you've done the Horde a great service with your power. If we can break through the Wall of Thoradin, take control of the Arathi Highlands, and join up with the army south of Thandol Span, I'll give serious thought to letting you off the hook, Warlock."
"Great Doomhammer, your will shall soon be done. The humans haven't discovered that