This is immediately after this part. Short story is short?
Barraccus allowed Quae to lead him out the door. Once outside, though, he suddenly pulled Quae to a stop. He led her over to the side of the house, where his deathcharger was cropping grass alongside Crison’s. It raised its head and watched as he walked up to it and placed a hand on its nose. Quae stepped up beside him. “Is there something wrong, Barraccus?” she asked him. “No,” he answered quietly. “I was just thinking.” He stood silent for a bit, gathering his thoughts.
Riatha came over while he was thinking and went to the other side, stroking his charger’s neck. He barely glanced at her before continuing. “I’ve never named this horse. He’s been a good mount, but I hardly even thought of him once I had gotten Oscor. I certainly never rode him anymore. But now…”
The deathcharger snorted, then nosed his hand, looking for a treat. He rubbed its muzzle a bit, then let it wander off in search of better grass. “Arthas, the Lich King, has taken everything I cared about. I’ve found other things to care for, and now he threatens to take those too. I’m not the only one either. How many other families have been torn apart because of him? How many orphans and widows have been made? He must be stopped, before he does further damage.” He turned to Quae, and the look in his eyes almost stunned her with its intensity. “He has to be stopped, before he takes more from me,” he said quietly. She started to reach for him with one hand, but stopped herself and let him finish.
He turned back to the dark horse. “So, I thought of a name while we rode back here. And when we reach that final battle with Arthas, I won’t be riding Oscor; I’ll leave him somewhere safe. I’ll be on this horse that he gave me, this horse that I’ve named Dune’adah.”
“Dune’adah,” Quae softly repeated the Darnassian word. She shared a look with Riatha, one tinged with fear. “Vengeance.”