South? South!

Diago woke on the great Druid bear's back.

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the sky, discovering that it was already daytime. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky.

He moved his arm. It still hurt a little, but it was much better than when he had first been injured. At least he could move it now. It seemed Masley had already healed him.

Having a healer along sure is nice, he reflected, then glanced around. "Where are we?" he asked.

"No idea. I couldn't make out directions last night either, so I just picked one and kept running." The great bear was still running. He turned his head to glance at Diago. "Don't hunters need distance? Why didn't you run yesterday?"

"You'd already charged in. Was I supposed to leave you behind and run off alone?" Diago said irritably. To be honest, when the fight began yesterday, he had never intended to clash head-on with the enemy. Running was practically an instinct for hunters; they preferred guerrilla warfare.

The great bear fell silent, but Diago could feel him running faster and more smoothly.

This kid really is simple... Diago reflected. The fur on the great bear's back was soft and neatly aligned, like a thick blanket. Even with him running nonstop, Diago felt no discomfort.

"Lying on your back is so comfortable..." Diago stretched contentedly and said **.

"Could you stop making it sound so disgusting? Can't you let me stay touched a little longer?" the great bear complained. He already looked very tired and kept panting heavily.

Diago ignored him and instead sat up to look into the distance, but he saw no one.

"All right, take a break. Those Orcs haven't caught up yet." He gently patted the great bear's back. "Have you been running since last night?"

The great bear slowly stopped, then sat on the ground. "No, I stopped for a while to give you some basic healing."

Diago slid down his back. He stretched his stiff body and discovered that his condition was not as bad as he had imagined. The swelling on his head had gone down, and the injury to his arm was not that serious either. He felt he could still grip things. He did not know whether he was lucky or unlucky. He had been injured twice already, not long after crossing into this world, but at least he had not died.

"You'd better avoid moving your left arm. Your radius is cracked. If it doesn't heal properly, it'll be a ** nuisance. You know, I'm a feral Druid. Healing isn't my specialty." The Druid did not return to humanoid form. Looking utterly exhausted, he casually dug a hollow in the dirt and lay down in it.

"I'm going to sleep for a bit. Wake me in an hour," he told Diago before falling asleep.

To be honest, this was the first time Diago had seen a Druid sleep in great bear form. The sleeping bear looked a little adorably dopey, his hind legs tucked beneath his belly and his front paws covering either side of his nose. He looked like an enormous ball of fluff.

"He really does look like an adorable child..." Diago marveled again. He turned and surveyed his surroundings. He saw that the terrain here was completely different from Loch Modan. Ochre gravel lay everywhere, and several craggy, weathered stone pillars stood in the distance-a desolate expanse of rocky desert. He immediately realized where he was.

This was the Badlands, the barren region south of Loch Modan. He had been here more than once and had even explored its prehistoric ruins.

Legend had it that long ago, this had been a vast, lush canyon, thick with vegetation and rich in natural resources. But the arrival of Ragnaros the Firelord three hundred years ago had cursed this region, turning it into what it was today-an uninhabited rocky desert. The terrain here was flat but strewn with rocks, and the mountains to the north blocked the cold air from Loch Modan. For outsiders, danger lurked everywhere, with evil lying hidden.

Ogres lumbered across the cracked earth with ground-shaking footsteps, roaming in search of travelers. Prides of lions lurked in the canyons, waiting for their chance, while young dragons searching for food swept across the murky yellow sky. Add Ironforge's old enemies-the Troggs and the Dark Iron Dwarves-and that was why this dreadful place was called the Badlands. The climate was scorching, its dry heat seeping into the bones. Scalding waves of heat stirred the hot air without bringing the slightest coolness to the sweltering land. Only the hardiest plants, such as cacti and Firebloom, could survive in this harsh environment.

Diago checked his equipment. His two hatchets were undoubtedly lost, but the bow on his back was still there. There were not many arrows left in his quiver, though-probably fewer than twenty.

He searched the surrounding rocky ground for a while, but found only a rattlesnake and a horned viper. He carefully put them into a leather bag. They were essential materials for making a Snake Trap, and if his hunger became unbearable, he could eat them too.

Diago knew many recipes for preparing snake meat in Azeroth. Kalimdor's Savory Wind Serpent Delight was supposedly even tastier, and it could turn whoever ate it into a pirate. Diago had been utterly shocked when he first learned about the dish-That's neither scientific nor magical! However, some people said Savory Wind Serpent Delight was not made from snakes, but from a type of mutated fish. The mysterious energy inside the fish was what caused the transformation. Yet Diago had never obtained the recipe for this dish. It really was a shame.

When Diago returned from his circuit, the Druid had already woken on his own, but he remained in great bear form. He looked too lazy to change back into human form.

"Next time there are too many enemies, let's run together. Druids are actually pretty good at running too," the Druid said dejectedly. The kid still looked guilty about having held his teammate back.

"All right. We're being hunted, so there really isn't any reason we can't run," Diago agreed as he sat down. In fact, Diago felt somewhat guilty himself. Although he had noticed signs of danger, he had kept hesitating, unable to make up his mind, and thus had not told Masley-What if I'm just jumping at shadows? How embarrassing would it be if it turned out to be a false alarm! His shut-in habits had flared up again.

Whatever the case, his words made Masley feel somewhat better. But the brat immediately grew cocky. "What do we do next? Should we fight our way back and teach those bastards following us a lesson?"

Diago moved his left arm to assess it. There was still a faint ache. Although it did not seem to hinder him in ordinary circumstances, it would definitely affect him in combat.

"No. At least, not yet. I still can't put any force into this arm," Diago said in a low voice. In fact, with preparation, these pursuers would not be a problem for the two of them. Once they turned the tables and became the hidden side, they could easily pick their enemies off a few at a time. Both were confident they could outrun the Orcs.

The harsh environment was not a major problem for Diago and Masley either. Hunters and Druids were both classes renowned for their wilderness survival skills. The main question was whether, after dealing with the Dragonmaw Orc pursuers, they should return to Loch Modan, head to Ironforge from there, and then take the tram south to Stormwind City.

"How about we keep going south?" Masley Bearskin asked eagerly. For this naturally adventurous Night Elf, the more dangerous a place was, the more he longed to go there. He really was an oddity among Night Elves.

Diago considered it. He did know the route-head west from the Badlands to Searing Gorge, pass through Blackrock Spire, then cross the Burning Steppes to reach the Redridge Mountains. That was human territory.

This would not be an easy journey. Not only would it take a long time, but the route was fraught with obstacles and danger. One careless mistake might cost them their lives. This was not a game; dead meant dead. As for resurrection, that was something only truly powerful figures could accomplish, and it would surely come at a steep cost. Diago certainly did not dare trust a feral Druid like Masley to have that ability.

Diago hesitated for a long time. He wanted very much to say no, but a devilish voice kept urging him on from within. He knew it was his own yearning for a thrilling life of adventure. In fact, every male shut-in was like this. They firmly believed they were unique, different from everyone else. Deep down, they too longed for adventure, for success, for a place at center stage where they could enjoy excitement and glory. These simple-hearted men, regardless of age, were often more hot-blooded and more easily swayed. Besides, if safety was what mattered, had his life before crossing over not been safer? Why had he yearned so deeply to cross into another world back then?

Diago questioned his heart over and over. Gradually, his resolve began to firm, and at last he understood what he truly wanted-a dazzling new life! If that was the case, there were things he would have to learn to face and experience. He could neither flee nor hide from them.

Besides, for certain purposes, he had also hoped to visit the Badlands, because it was a place every hunter had to visit at least once. In his memory, a yellow leopard named Broken Tooth lived on this land.

Unlike Druids, who could communicate with wild animals at any time, hunters had fixed bonds with their pets. To a hunter, a pet was a lifelong companion, a pact between souls, a bond forged in battle. Few hunters abandoned their pets out of personal preference or for any other reason. They preferred to regard them as loyal companions and comrades-in-arms. Stories of pets refusing food and starving to death after their hunters died were not uncommon.

Humar, Lakkari, Lupos, Broken Tooth... how could he forget those names, each practically carved into the depths of his soul?

"All right. We'll head south," Diago said firmly, finally making up his mind.

"See? I knew we were the same kind of person!" the Night Elf cheered. At that moment, he looked more like a human than an elf.

"Yes. Then the only question left is to think carefully about how to deal with those annoying hangers-on," Diago agreed. Although he had decided to press forward fearlessly, that did not mean he would blindly charge ahead and plunge into a pit even when he knew it was there.

"Whatever you say. I'll listen to you," the Night Elf said blithely, flopping into the hollow in the dirt. "You think it over. I'm going to sleep first."

"I won't need that much time. I think I have a good idea." Diago suddenly remembered a place and smiled sinisterly-or so the Night Elf thought.

Note: In fact, there was also a Stonewrought Dam route between Loch Modan and Searing Gorge. This shortcut passed through the entire mountain range, greatly shortening the distance between the two regions and sparing travelers the detour through the perilous Badlands. However, after the War of the Three Hammers broke out, the dwarves sealed off this road for safety. Only those with a key could pass, and Diago and Masley clearly did not have one.