Anduin Wrynn’s breath steamed from cold and exertion as he crested the steep road climbing from the valleys of Dun Morogh to Ironforge. The pair of adventurers he had wheedled into accompanying him from Stormwind balked at leaving the cloaked and incognito young prince at the base of the mountain, but he promised to reveal himself to the nearest guard if anything went amiss and sent them on their uneasy way.
He drew a few curious glances as he bent down at regular intervals, poking holes in the snow with a stick and dropping in small objects before smoothing them back over, but no one stopped him or asked what he was doing. This was not Stormwind. Dun Morogh hadn’t escaped wholly unscathed from the elemental Cataclysm, true, but Deathwing had not scarred their citadel and orcs were not burning Kharanos. There was still some small room for innocence, so he planted his seeds unmolested.