In Gadgetzan, all these things were plentiful, and none of them desirable. The pressing needs of Mr. Copperpocket had given her tunnelvision. Now that he was tucked away with his... witch... her environs were frighteningly apparent.
“Ugh... the sand... these shoes will never be the same.”
Why had she rushed out here to save the life of a small green creature? Sure, it was her job. She was taken on as a healer, after all. Also, she was good at it. It delighted her, performing her art, her duty. The sense of accomplishment, of saving lives, of being something greater than herself, she was more than just Sudol.
But the goblins...
A few sauntered by her as she vainly attempted to brush the sand from her robes. She met their gaze briefly and then continued.
“Awful things... Why did it have to be here of all places? I’m sure there are characters in Arathi, or in the Hinterlands that would have been happy to shoot him. I hear those places are lovely this time of year.”
Even Durotar would have been preferable. It was dirty and dusty, sure, but her recent trips there had revealed Orgrimmar’s softer side. The lanterns in the water for Summer festival, as well as the sunset over the red earth from the bluffs were charming in their own way, and one never knew who one might run into.
She returned to the windrider master, happy to shake the sand from her feet as she left this place. Though surely some would be stowing away.
“Tsk, sand everywhere. How can anyone live here...”