Chapter 31: The Echoes of Conflict （冲突的回响）

　　The drizzle turned into a steady, cold rain that clung to the pine needles and dripped from the branches with a persistent rhythm. Leon pulled his cloak tighter, but the dampness seeped through, chilling him to the bone. The forest here in the foothills was different from Elwynn—darker, denser, the air thick with the scent of wet rock and pine resin. The trail he followed was little more than a deer path, often disappearing entirely under thickets of ferns and fallen branches. Progress was slow and exhausting.

　　细雨变成了持续冰冷的雨，挂在松针上，以执着的节奏从树枝滴落。里昂拉紧斗篷，但湿气仍渗透进来，让他感到刺骨寒冷。山麓的这片森林与艾尔文不同——更暗、更密，空气中弥漫着潮湿岩石和松脂的气味。他走的小径几乎只是鹿道，常常完全消失在蕨类植物丛和落枝下。前进缓慢而疲惫。

　　Around midday, as he paused to drink from a rain-swollen stream, he saw the first sign that he was no longer in a peaceful land. Tied to a low-hanging branch was a crude talisman—a bundle of feathers, animal bones, and twisted roots, daubed with dried, flaking red paint. It was a gnoll marking. His blood ran cold. The memory of the beast in the Whispering Woods, its fetid breath and savage growl, flooded back with terrifying clarity. He was in their territory now.

　　中午时分，他停下来喝雨水涨满的溪水时，看到了第一个迹象，表明他不再处于和平之地。一根低垂的树枝上绑着一个粗糙的图腾——一捆羽毛、动物骨头和扭曲的树根，涂着干裂脱落的红色颜料。这是豺狼人的标记。他血液都凉了。低语森林中那只野兽的记忆，它恶臭的呼吸和野蛮的咆哮，以可怕的清晰度涌回脑海。他现在进入了它们的领地。

　　He moved with even greater caution after that, his senses stretched to their limit. Every shadow seemed to hold potential danger. He avoided open clearings and stuck to the deepest shadows under the trees. The rain, while miserable, was a blessing in disguise, muffling his footsteps and washing away any scent he might leave behind.

　　此后他行动更加谨慎，感官绷紧到极限。每个影子似乎都潜藏着危险。他避开开阔的林间空地，紧贴树下最深的阴影。下雨虽然难受，但也是伪装的祝福，掩盖了他的脚步声，冲走了他可能留下的任何气味。

　　Late in the afternoon, as the light began to fail, he heard it—a sound that was not part of the forest. It was a distant, metallic clang, followed by a sharp cry that was cut short. It came from further down the valley. Fear warred with curiosity within him. He knew the smartest thing was to hide, to wait until it was fully dark and then slip away. But another part of him, the part that had learned to read the signs of the wild, needed to know. Was it a trap? A skirmish? Information could mean the difference between life and death.

　　傍晚，天色开始变暗时，他听到了——一个不属于森林的声音。是远处金属的铿锵声，随后是一声被截断的尖锐叫喊。声音来自山谷更下方。恐惧与好奇在他内心交战。他知道最聪明的做法是躲藏，等到天完全黑再溜走。但另一部分的他，那个学会了识别野外迹象的他，需要知道。是陷阱吗？是小规模冲突吗？信息可能意味着生与死的区别。

　　He moved towards the sound with painstaking slowness, using every scrap of cover available. He climbed a small, rocky ridge that overlooked the valley floor. Peering through a screen of dripping ferns, his heart hammered against his ribs.

　　他以极其缓慢的速度向声音移动，利用一切可用的掩护。他爬上一座能俯瞰谷底的小石山。透过滴水的蕨类植物屏风窥视，心脏狂跳着撞击肋骨。

　　Below, in a muddy clearing by the stream, was the scene of a recent fight. Two bodies lay sprawled on the ground—human soldiers, clad in the familiar colors of Stormwind. Their armor was dented and bloody. Around them, the ground was churned up by heavy paws. Standing over the bodies were three large gnolls, their hyena-like faces smeared with gore as they rifled through the dead men's packs. One of them let out a triumphant yelp and held up a small, gleaming object.

　　下方，溪边泥泞的空地上，是刚发生战斗的场景。两具尸体瘫在地上——是人类士兵，穿着熟悉的暴风城颜色盔甲。他们的盔甲凹陷染血。周围的地面被沉重的爪子刨乱。尸体旁站着三只大豺狼人，它们鬣狗般的脸上沾满血污，正在翻找死者的背包。其中一只发出胜利的吠叫，举起一个闪亮的小物件。

　　Leon watched, frozen with a mixture of horror and a strange, detached calm. This was the reality of the world beyond Goldshire's fences. This was the war that the songs glossed over. It was brutal, ugly, and final. He felt no urge to be a hero. He knew that against three gnolls, he wouldn't stand a chance. His only duty was to survive, to be a witness.

　　里昂看着，因恐惧和一种奇怪的、超然的平静而僵住。这就是闪金镇栅栏外世界的现实。这就是歌曲中轻描淡写的战争。它残酷、丑陋、且是终结。他没有任何当英雄的冲动。他知道面对三只豺狼人，他毫无胜算。他唯一的责任是生存，是成为见证者。

　　As silently as he had come, he retreated from the ridge. The image of the dead soldiers was burned into his mind. They were someone's sons, perhaps someone's fathers. They had died in this muddy ditch, forgotten by all but the carrion birds that were already circling overhead. He thought of the farmer, Ol' Tom, and his hatred for the orcs. Now, Leon understood that hatred on a visceral level. But he also understood the gnolls' hunger, their animalistic drive. It was a cycle of violence as old as the mountains themselves.

　　他像来时一样悄无声息地撤下山脊。死去士兵的图像烙印在他脑海中。他们是某人的儿子，也许是某人的父亲。他们死在这泥泞的沟渠里，被所有人遗忘，除了已在头顶盘旋的食腐鸟类。他想起了农夫老汤姆，他对兽人的仇恨。现在，里昂在内心深处理解了那种仇恨。但他也理解了豺狼人的饥饿，它们动物般的驱动力。这是一个如山峦本身一样古老的暴力循环。

　　He found a hiding place for the night—a narrow crevice in the rock face, too small for any large creature to enter. He curled up inside, shivering from cold and delayed shock. He didn't sleep. He listened to the rain and the occasional, distant howl of the gnolls celebrating their grisly prize. He was alone in a land of teeth and claws, and the echoes of conflict were a constant reminder of how thin the line was between life and death. The journey north was no longer an abstract quest; it was a gauntlet he had to run, and he had only seen the first of its horrors.

　　他找到了过夜的藏身处——岩面上的一个狭窄裂缝，任何大生物都进不来。他蜷缩在里面，因寒冷和迟来的震惊而颤抖。他没有睡觉。他听着雨声和远处偶尔传来的豺狼人庆祝它们可怕战利品的嚎叫。他独自身处一个充满利齿尖爪的土地，冲突的回响不断提醒他生与死之间的界限多么薄弱。北上之旅不再是抽象的追寻；而是他必须闯过的严酷考验，而他只看到了其中最初的恐怖。