<---back to Flight from the Dark
Carasel had done what Vivian had told her to do, his last words ringing in her ears as the Tram pulled out of the station. When you get to Ironforge, ask a guard for help. She ran through the nearly empty station in Ironforge and breathelessly approached the first guard she saw.
"Excuse me..." she wheezed. The guard turned and stared. "... c-c-can you t-t-tell."
"Spit it out, girl. Haven't got all day," the gaurd interrupted. Carasel began to turn pink around her ears.
"um... c-c-can you t-t-tell..." she struggled on.
"Yah, can I tell you? I got tha part. What do you want?" he broke in again. Carasel tried to breathe.
"Money? Sorry, no begging. Move along," the guard said. Carasel shook her head, still stuck in the block.
"Menethil Harbour? Is that what you want?" he asked, exasperated.
She nodded in silent frustration. "Yes," she gapsed out finally.
"Griffon masters are down the next corridor, in the main hall." he barked at her. Carasel gave him a confused look. "Griff-on Mas-ter?" he said in a loud, slow voice. He sighed. "Go outside, follow the signs to Loch Modan," he said pointing down a long hall. "Loch Mo-dan," he repeated, emphasizing each syllable. Carasel nodded slowly and he turned to walk away. "Tourists..." he muttered.
Ironforge was a blur. It was a towering cavern of lights and sounds, and Carasel was completley overwhelmed. There were buildings lining all of the immense halls and was filled with people. She ran through the city following the path the soldier had pointed. She paused for brief seconds to look behind her as she ran. She imagined tall men in brown robes around every corner. She felt trapped; claustrophobic in the warmth of the mountain city. She rememebred the feeling of his thoughts inside her head, and had to get away. She ran, dodging between the throng near the front gates. The scent of fresh cold air hit her full in the face as she finally reached outside. Carsel stopped for what seemed to be the first time in a day, and breathed deeply. The air helped to clear her head. The road sloped down out of sight, but the view was extraordinary. She stared for long moments, taking in the albaster vista before her. She could see her breath in the air and feel the bite of the cold on her cheeks. She resigned herself to the cold and then trudged down the snow covered road out of Ironforge.
As Carasel reached the signpost outside Ironforge she realized there was no turning back. She had abandoned her family and Northshire Abby. No matter the reasons, she thought, I can never go back. She began to sniffle again, thinking about Brother Paxton and her parents. Why did they believe him? Was he coming for her? Had Vivian stopped him? She had not waited around in the Tram station to see if he would emerge. Hope he's okay she thought, and smiled wanly as she pictured the brave little gnome. The thought of him gave her courage. She straightened up, wrapped her cloak tightly around her, and read the signpost. The sign pointed toward the east. Carasel started walking.
The sun was beginning to move towards the middle of the sky, but it was still bitter cold. She wished for more warmth, and pulled her sheer cloak even tighter around her shoulders. Her dress was not very warm and the cloak was proving to be little better. The cold was assaulting her extremities. She stamped her feet to keep warm, using the trick her father had taught her. She felt the feeling begin to return to her feet and legs, and smiled to herself at the thought of her father. She rubbed her chest with her arms, and felt some heart return. It was very slow going. The ice and snow made it difficult to move with any speed. Her sandals had no traction. She passed the occasional dwarven sentry, all bundled in warm furs, and was jealous of their warmth. Some gave her strange looks as she tramped by without a word. Most smiled though, and she did not feel afraid to walk the road alone. It looked well traveled and the wild animals seemed to keep their distance. The trees were all snowcovered and the hills seemed to melt into one another in a white blur. The sun seemed to be racing across the sky, and she quickened her pace.
After what seemed like another hour of walking dusk was already beginning to fall across the bleak mountain passes. Long shadows cast a grey pall over the road, and Carasel began to shiver again. The wind came up, blowing her dress up around her thighs. She shivered with the blast of cold air, and hoped to reach cover soon. As the road wound around a bend, Carasel saw blinking lights in the distance. They looked like faeries, but they did not seem to move. As she pressed on, her legs growing weaker and weaker, she hoped she would reach Loch Modan soon. The faeries in the distance beckoned to her and she tried to focus on them as she walked. As she got closer, she could see the lights dancing, and saw more and more in the distance. They winked and blinked and she started running towards them. As Carasel came up over a rise she was able to make out a large stone archway, and then she realized what the fairies really were.
Roaring fires in stone braziers lit the long tunnel, which was hewed out of the solid stone of the mountain. She sighed, pleased that she had reached the tunnel but disappointed that the lights were plain old fires. The wind kicked up again and it howled through the tunnel. She feared that a snowstorm might be coming. She was tired and hungry, her energy drained as darkness crept across the mountains. Carasel decided stop for the evening. She peered down the tunnel, and lost count of all the lights that dotted its walls. It seemed, for a moment, that she was staring into infinity. She blinked and tried to clear her mind. The exhaustion of the last day was catching up with her at last. She had not seen hide nor hair of her parents or Brother Paxton. They probably don't care I'm gone she moped. She stared at the fire for a long moment. I'll be safe there by the fire she thought. And tomorrow, I'll be on sailing ship.
She stepped inside the tunnel and sat close to the first large brazier. It gave off a comforting glow and threw off just enough heat to keep her warm. She tucked her legs under the hem of her dress and took off her cloak. She turned it sideways and wrapped it tightly around her arms and shoulders. She looked up at the stone archway and hoped it would provide cover from snow. She knew nothing of the weather, but feared that it might snow during the night. The lip of the tunnel would also provide some shelter from the whipping winds that would otherwise cut through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. She hoped that Loch Modan would not be as cold. Carasel opened her pack and ate one of the pieces of fruit. It was bruised, but still edible. She was hungry, but decided to save the other piece for tomorrow. She set the pack near her feet and then yawned widely. As the brazier crackled softly, Carasel drifted into an exhausted sleep. Her last thoughts were of her father, Paxton and pink haired gnomes.
In the morning she awoke to find her pack overturned, laying three or four feet away. She jumped up and ran to grab it, only to find it torn and empty. The fruit she had saved was gone, and the five silver pieces she had hidden in the seam were missing as well. She felt under her tunic; her father's knife was still there. "Damn thieves, she cursed to the empty air. She stamped her foot. Carasel picked up the empty pack and tried to sling it on her back. It was torn nearly in half and one of the straps had come loose. At least I'm alive. She shivered, stamped her feet again, and began to walk.
The tunnel turned out to be much shorter than she had thought the night before. When she had walked for no more than two-hundred yards she emerged from the tunnel into an armed outpost. The darkness of the night and the twinkling of the fires had made the tunnel appear to go on for miles. She sighed dejectedly. Robbed within earshot of this camp she mused. The outpost was bustling with morning activity. There were Dwarven guards and mountaineers milling about, talking easily with each other. She walked near to one of the mountaineers. He had a long beard and deep-set, friendly looking eyes. They reminded her a little of Vivian's eyes. They twinkled.
"Excuse m-me, sir? she said to the friendly looking dwarf. "Can you tell me how much further it is to Loch Modan?"
The Mountaineer turned at the sound of her voice and walked over to her. He looked her over, clearly noting her clothes and her pack, then smiled. "Aye, lass. 'Tis a half day's walk through tha pass to Thelsamar. An beyond that is tha Dun Algaz."
"Half day," Carasel murmured dejectedly. She stared at the ground. "What about M-menethil?"
"The harbour? Tis on tha other side of the Dun Algaz. Tha's a tunnel, in case ya didn't know." Carasel began to fidget sulkily. The dwarf dug into his pack and brought out a small bundle. He tossed it to her, saying, "Here ye are, lassie. My wife made it for me, but by tha looks of it ye could use it more."
Carasel caught the bundle, then juggled it in her numb hands. She smelled sweet, freshly baked bread. She dropped to the ground and tore open the wrapping. Inside she found a golden loaf of bread. She touched the top, and found to her delight that it was still very warm. Steam wafted up as she tore a piece and began to eat. She looked up at the dwarf.
"Dank gou," she said with a mouthful of bread. He laughed.
"Yer welcome lass. Now, hand me that pack an I'll fix it up." She looked at him quizically for a second, then handed over the torn backpack. He rummaged in his gear and brought out a roll of silky thread and a fine bone needle. "This'll only take a moment," he said as he set to work on the pack. In a moment, the seam was repaired and the frayed shoulderstrap looked good as new. He handed it back to her with a grin.
"Danks," she mustered, her mouth stuffed full of bread.
He smiled down at her. "You stay on tha road now, and don't dilly-dally. Ye'll make the other side by midday. Folla tha signs te Thelsamar." He watched her shiver. "Don worry Lassie, you'll be warmer soon." She noddedas she forced another steaming piece of bread into her mouth. He laughed, then waved as he walked away.
After eating nearly the enitre loaf of bread, she stood up and continued through the tunnels. Walking was much easier on the paved roads and she made good time. Though she did not meet anyone else in the tunnels, she had the sinking feeling that she was being followed. She would hear the echo of footfalls behind her, and wondered if it was safe. She picked up the pace, and was relieved to see light at the end of the tunnel ahead. Coming out of the tunnel, Carasel stared in wonder at a great Dwarf carved into the stone. She wanted to climb up for a better look, but remembered what the Mountaineer told her. She walked on and came to a signpost. She looked it over, and decided that Thelsamar was to the north.
Loch Modan is beautiful she mused. It was now midday, and the chill was leaving her slowly. It was certainly different here on the other side of the mountains. It reminded her a bit of Elwynn. The canopy of trees were a wonder, and the little animals that scurried acroos the road reminded her of home. Thelsamar, by contrast, proved to be a disappointment. It was no more than a few buildings, some halfway buried in the earth. She walked around the town looking it over. It didn't appear to have much, but it did have an Inn. I need to find Menethil she thought, with images of sailing ships crashing through white waves dancing in her head. She walked inside.
The Stoutlager Inn was a nice dwarven place with roaring fires and a cheerful staff. A young dwarven girl with a ruddy completion welcomed her and offered her a seat near one of the blazing hearths.
"I'm sorry, b-but I don't have any money," Carasel said to the girl.
"Ahh, thas okay. It's still pretty early, so the crowd is thin. Jus warm yerself by the fire." the girl responded. She smiled broadly at Carasel.
Carasel relaxed a bit. "W-would you mind if I ate?" she asked, pulling a bundle from her pack.
"Nah, go ahead..." the girl began. "Is that sweet bread?" she asked, spying the remains of the loaf as Carasel brought it out of her pack.
"I'm n-not sure what you call it. A nice man gave it to me this morning."
A nice man gave you that? She winked as she said it. An what did ye give te him? She giggled.
Carasel blushed. N-n-n-no. I was robbed, and a nice dwarf gave me his bread.
The girl gasped. "Robbed? Ye dinna say?" She dropped down into a nearby chair. "Did the rapscallions hurt ye?"
Carasel nodded. "No. I fell asleep and when I woke up my pack was empty and my money and food were gone."
"Fell asleep?" the girl asked in disbelief. "They were in yer room?" Her eyes went wide.
"Umm, n-not exactly," Carasel muttered. She began to blush again. "I was walking from Iron F-forge and didn't get as far as I wanted. So, I st-st-stopped in a tunnel and slept near a fire pot." It sounded extremely foolish saying it out loud.
"Ye went te sleep... in a tunnel? Are ye daft? Yer lucky ye aren't dead!" she replied in astonishment. "So, ye don't have anything 'cept the clothes on yer back?" she asked after a moment.
"No, I guess n-not."
"And yer all alone?"
Carasel nodded. She eyed Carasel for a few seconds. "Ye don't plan on staying here, do ye?"
"Well, not really. I'm going to Menethil," Carasel answered.
"Menethil? Well now I know yer daft. That's a dangerous road and fit fer travel by a wee bairn."
"What's a b-bairn?" Carasel replied, getting prickly.
The girl laughed. "A wee bairn... a child."
She flushed. "I am n-n-not a ch-child!" she said angrily.
"Now now, I dinna mean anything by it." She laughed at Carasel, then made a serious face. "If you mean te go te Menethil, it's best ye find a group te travel with. There are things on the roads these days..." She stood, nodded ominously, and walked back towards the kitchen.
Carasel sat back and stared at the fire. Something about a dwarven fire she thought. It calmed her nerves. There was something elemental about the fire, and Carasel found she could get lost in the flames. She stared hard into the fire, trying to banish everything around her. He thoughts again went back to the night before. Why did father belive Paxton? Did mother believe? Was Paxton following her? After a few moments, from the corner of her eye, she saw two rough looking men watching her.
Her reverie in the flames lost, she turned her head slightly to look at them. They were scrawny and looked to be dressed in rags. One man had a faded red armband tied to his sleeve. They seemed to be watching her. Their stares made her uncomfortable. She tried to look at them casually, and pretended to fiddle with her pack. They appeared to loose interest in her, and began an animated discussion. Perhaps they stole my silver. Or maybe they work for Brother Paxton. Her mind raced from senario to senario, each one worse than the last. The more she thought about them, the more she worried. She chanced a look in their direction again and caught the eye of the taller of the two. He immediately averted his eyes. That scared her. Unsure what to do next, she stood up.
"Leavin so soon?" It was the dwarven girl, returning from the depths of the Inn carrying a wooden plate with a loaf of bread on it. "I saw how much ye liked that bread, so I thought Id bring ye more. I baked it fresh not an hour ago."
Carasel sat back down and invited the girl to sit with her. She leaned in close, and whispered. "D-d-do you see those m-m-men in the corner?" She indicated slightly with her head.
The girl turned and looked. "What men? Are you havin a time with me?"
Carasel looked. The corner was empty. She looked around the common room, but they were gone. Vanished. "I was staring at the fire and I thought I saw t-two men over"
"Ahh, staring at the fire will do it every time. The mind plays tricks, ye know. Come now, take the bread while its hot."
Carasel blinked, then turned to inhale the warm sweet smell of the freshly baked loaf. "Thanks so much. Is there something I c-can do to pay you?"
The girl humphed. "No need to repay me. Tis a kindness I do." She smiled. "Now you mind what I said. Find a group to travel to Menethil with. Always have folks passing through here headed that way." She stood to leave, then turned and tossed her apron over her shoulder. "You mind that fire now. And don't be seein any more ghosts!" She laughed and walked back towards the kitchens.
Carasel sat back and looked into the fire. Mind plays a trick, thats all she thought. She hazarded a glance towards the corner again and was sure she could she the outline of a tall man. She stood quickly, toppling her chair, and dashed out the door.
Carasel left the Stoutlager Inn and ran back towards the road. She kept twisting her head to look behind her, but could see no sign of anyone. She reached the road and ran north, trying to put as much distance between herself and the Inn as she could. The road was wide and well paved. Up ahead she saw an archway of stone; the gateway to the Marshlands and Menethil Harbour. As she approached the tunnel she stopped and took a last look back down the road to Thelsamar. She saw nothing. She began to think she was imagining it all. Then she thought about Brother Paxton, and the Abby. I didn't imagine that. It happened. She entered Dun Algaz.
After only a few hundred yards she was sure she was being followed. She could hear echoes of footfalls behind her again, just as she had earlier in the day. She quickened her pace, but the echoes seemed to match her steps. She approached a larger brazier, and as she passed it she spun around the stare backwards down the tunnel. She saw nothing but empty tunnel. For a brief moment she considered running back to the Inn, but if the men were back there she would run right into their arms. She turned and continued to run through the corridors, all the while straining to hear any change in the sounds behind her.
The footfalls behind her grew louder suddenly, and when she chanced to turn around she saw the outline of a man pacing her from the shadows. She reached under her dress and pulled out the knife. She hid it in her palm, holding the handle backwards so the blade ran up the side of her arm. She tried to weave away from the shadowy man.
She had taken no more than a few steps when she ran headlong into another shadow of a man; a man that seemed to appear from nowhere. He was thin with a short dark beard and wore a ragged cloak with a hood that covered his eyes. He reached out and grabbed her dress, pulling him towards her. He seemed gaunt, but his arms were strong and he released the front of her dress to grip her biceps. As he jerked her towards him, his hood fell back against his shoulders. The dancing faerie light of the brazeirs revealed a wicked grin on his face.
"Now... where do you think you're running, Pretty?" he croaked at her.
She pulled backward and tried to free herself from his grip. His tightened his hold on her thin arms, his hands like vises. She winced.
"Don't struggle, Pretty," he continued. He tightened his grip again and she cried out in pain. "Hush," he commanded.
The second man appeared then, coming up from behind her. He had a thin scar along the side of his face that ran from his neck to encompass the right corner of his mouth. It gave him a queer, perpetual frown. He stopped a few feet away and looked her over. His eyes were cold and frightening, and they seemed to devour her. He reached up and felt her hair, rubbing it between this finger and thumb. She jerked her head away and tried to spin free again. The man with the cold eyes shook her violently. Both men laughed. Carasel reeled with the forced of his arms. Had the man not been holding her up, she would have tumbled to the ground. He pinched her arms mercilessly. She whimpered. He shook her again, and somewhere far away she thought she could hear him telling her to be quiet. She felt her pack being torn from her back.
"Empty," she said. "I d-d-don't have..."
"Shaddup," the man with strong hands spat. He released his grip on one of her arms and raised his hand. Carasel tried to shy away, but he held her fast and stung her with the back of his hand. Her eyes exploded in stars. She felt warmth on her lips and tasted copper in her mouth. She started crying. He pushed her back against the wall of the tunnel, pinning her there with his arm braced across her chest. Her mind reeling, she dimly realized her left arm was free. Instinctively, she rasied the knife and thrust at the man holding her
Her first thrust glanced off his chest, cutting through the rags and skittering across black leather underneath. She swung wildly, and her second swipe cut a gash across his raised forearm. He swore, and tried to grab her arms, intending to pin them against her sides. She kicked backwards at the wall and thrust herself towards the man with strong hands just as he was moving in. The top of her head slammed just under his chin. He grunted and stumbled backwards, stunned
The man with cold eyes reached in from behind to grab her, but Carasel continued to fall forward. He missed her hair by inches and instead grabbed a hold of the neck of her dress. She was jerked violently backwards for a moment, until the fabric ripped. The dress began to tear away from her back, choking her until a seam ripped completely. She swung her arms wildly, the knife flashing back and forth as she dashed down the tunnel. She ignored the pain and tried to run a straight line, her head still swimming. Carasel could hear the men pounding after her; could hear them cursing after her as she ran. Up ahead she saw sunlight and splotches of green. Trees, she thought. If only I can make it.
The highwaymen caught her just as she broke into the heavy, moist air of the Marshlands.
Carasel felt a rough fist grab a handful of her hair and she mouthed a silent scream. The fist wrenched her backwards and she felt her feet slipping out from under her. The man held her suspended in mid-fall, and then threw her to the violently to the ground. She rolled down the path, then staggered to her feet and tried and run away. Her head was spinning wildly as she ran forward, out of control . The man with cold eyes appeared in front of her with a blackjack in his hand. Carasel tried to steady herself, then lunged clumsily at him with the little knife. He caught her arm easily with one hand and drubbed her across the wrist with the weighted leather. The bone cracked loudly and her hand twisted backward unnaturally. The knife slipped from her limp fingers to clatter noisely on the stone path.
"Little tramp cut me," he raged. He towered over her, his grin replaced with an ugly sneer. Her punched her hard in the stomach and she fell to the ground, heaving and gasping for air. She could taste vomit in her mouth and struggled to breathe. The man snorted. He picked her up roughly, crushing the broken wrist as he yanked at her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and bile.
"P-p-plea..." she tried to say.
"Quiet!" he roared. He struck her savagely across the face. She fell again and did not move.
Carasel tried to look up though the tears and her fast swelling eye. She saw the man with cold eyes tap the blackjack in his hand as he slowly moved towards her. He wore a sinister smile. Then, miraculously, he stopped moving. His eyes opened wide and he began to gasp. The sound was only a rasping whisper as a thin red line appeared along the side of his neck. Carasel heard a primal roar and saw a flash of green as she fell into unconsciousness. The last things she heard were a few guttural sounds and one word that sounded like a curse. "Defias".
The highwayman with cold eyes felt the sting of a barbed arrow as it cut his neck. He spun haphazardly around to face a black wolf charging at him. In the near distance he saw an Orc pulling back on a great bow. She seemed to be staring him down over the arrow nocked in her bow. He dropped the blackjack and reached for the sword he had hidden under his rags. He could feel some sort of toxin pulsing through his veins and felt his arms going weak. Then the arrow flashed and struck him squarely the chest, piercing the leather easily. He was jolted backwards as if kicked by a mule. He felt almost no pain at all. Then the wolf leapt in the air, fangs bared, and all was darkness.
The highwayman with the strong hands watched his partner fall and could hear him being torn to pieces by the wolf. He drew his sword and began running back towards the Dun Algaz archway. He made it no more that a step when a blood-curdling roar stopped him in his tracks. A huge Orc charged towards him, a great axe raised over its head. The man dropped into a fighting stance and prepared to lunge forward as the Orc approached.
The axe wielder dodged the first lunge easily and dealt the highwayman and long and nasty cut along his right thigh as they passed each other. The man wheeled, lunged again, and this time met the handle of the axe with his sword blade. The two stared at each other for a long moment, locked together, before the Orc pushed him backwards. The Orc moved left, skirting around to cut off the path to Dun Algaz. The Orc with the bow shouted something, and the one facing him seemed to laugh. It was a frightening sound.
The man feinted down, then slashed upwards trying to catch the large Orc unaware. His sword cut only air, and before he could recover he felt white-hot pain from the bite of the axe in his lower back. It burned through his nerves and he gasped in pain. He tried to wheel to face his foe, but found his legs were collapsing under him. The large Orc towered over him and grunted again. Then he watched the as Orc lifted the gleaming axe high over his head and darkness greeted him as well.
The hunter walked up to survey the carnage. She spoke to her wolf. "Lira, come." The wolf looked up from the body it was chewing on and walked back to stand at its masters side. "You toyed with him, Rael," she said to the warrior.
"Killed him too quickly, if you ask me," Rael replied. "Miserable dog-eating Defias." He looked down at Carasels body. His mate came up to stand next to him.
"Bastards. We cant just leave her here. Killing men is one thing, but this... We dont kill children." She shot him a look. "And if we leave her here Rael, she'll die."
Rael sighed, but then nodded in silent agreement. "No honor in that. You're right, of course. But what do we do with her, Pada?"
"Call your mount. We'll take her to the humans. Its all we can do for her now." Pada responded.
Carasel awoke to the sounds of the Orcs talking. Pada knelt down and reached out to touch her head. She shuddered, whimpered and shrank back from Pada's hand. The Orc looked at the girl and began to softly hum a lullaby; a cooing sound that was gentle and loving. Carasel seemed to hear it, seemed to understand, and grew still. Pada reached into her pack, pulled out an old cape, and tried to cover her. Rael came up leading a large riding wolf. He had removed his armor and underneath wore a silky black shirt. He bent down and, after looking into Carasels reddened and battered face, he picked her up. She cried out but did not struggle. He slowly mounted his wolf and watched as Pada picked up one of the Defias swords and a bandana. Then she mounted her own wolf.
"I'll lead the way," she said. Then she called to her pet, saying "Lira, patrol." The wolf immediately ran ahead sniffing the ground. The two Orcs weaved their way along the mountain edge through the Marshlands towards the western shore. They passed near a group of Murlocs, but the small blue creatures simply padded around gurgling to each other. As the road continued to wind west and south, the turrets of a stone bastion began to appear out of the twilight. Rael and Pada slowed.
Rael got down from his mount, still cradling Carasel in his strong arms. She whimpered occasionally, but still made no moves. He walked out into the middle of the road and laid her down as gently as he could. Pada came up along side him and drove the sword into the ground near her feet. A faded red band, dotted with blood, was tied to the hilt of the sword. The band fluttered in the breeeze.
"I hope the humans understand this message," she said to Rael. He only grunted as he placed the small pack under Carasels head. He brushed the hair from her face absently, then stepped back and away.
"We need to get their attention," Pada said.
Rael grunted. He walked a few yards ahead, until he was in clear sight of a stone bridge. He could see a dwarf and a human walking along the nearer side. Her threw back his head and shouted. "For the HORDE!" Then he turned, and walked slowly back to his mate.
Pada smiled. "That should do it."
He laughed mirthlessly. "You can never be too obvious with these humans..."
They waited until they saw the human and two dwarves coming slowly out towards them. The all stood staring at each other. Rael saluted to the human, and after a second the human saluted back. Then the two Orcs got back on their wolves, turned their mounts north, and rode back towards Dun Algaz.
The human walked ahead of the dwarves, stared briefly at the red fabric tied to the sword, then dropped to his knees as he reached Carasel's body lying in the road.
"Gods," the young Lieutenant whispered. The Dwarves with him continued to gawk at the Orcs off in the distance. The human turned towards the Keep, shouting "Healer! I need a healer out here!"
Hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles. You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.