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	The midday sun was high in the sky when Drenan and Lyrah offered their friends a final goodbye.  Soren clung to Shele as she struggled to hold back sobs.  It was not easy for the father-daughter duo to witness, but the night elves behind their friends were particularly anxious to get them out.  Shele never took her eyes off of her friends as they mounted their shared gryphon, waved, and took off from the safety of Moonglade.

	Drenan protectively kept his arms wrapped around his daughter’s waist as they flew, and Lyrah sighed as she leaned back into her father, likewise touching her own, soft belly.  “So… where do we go first?  I still don’t think I wanna go to Orgrimmar.”

	“We are not,” Drenan assured her.  “Our flight is set for Ratchet.  From there, we will cross the sea.  I do not think Kalimdor holds anything for us any longer.”

	Lyrah felt a strange sadness in her heart at his words, but she couldn’t deny the truth in them.  “We’ve been all over the continent from top to bottom,” she agreed, “And everywhere we’ve gone has been… hostile or worse.  Do you think the Eastern Kingdoms will be better?”

	Drenan exhaled in contemplation.  “The Alliance will not welcome us, no matter our intentions.  It might even be worse if they knew of our… unusual relationship.”

	“Yeah… it’s a long way to get through Alliance lands and reach Eversong though, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

	Drenan cocked an eyebrow.  “Care to live among the blood elves?”

	Lyrah reflexively scrunched up her nose.  “Eh… visiting was nice during my travels, but their buildings aren’t really made for tall people like us.  And I think I broke a few cobblestones by walking on them.”

	“Fair,” he returned with a chuckle.  “Best to start in Stranglethorn anyway.  I recall you had a pretty good time during our last jungle excursion, no?”

	Lyrah blushed at this and averted her gaze to one side… which she realized was an immediate mistake.  Her cheeks went from pink to green in a fraction of a second.  “Daddy… if we don’t land, like, immediately, our wyvern’s gonna buck us off.”

	Drenan didn’t quite understand.  “Why would that be?”

	“Because… ‘cause I’m gonna barf all over its face.”

* * * * *

	Drenan sighed as he watched the wyvern fly off to its master, while simultaneously rubbing Lyrah’s back as she unloaded her breakfast.  “Well, at least we made it to the tail end of Felwood,” the bull remarked, taking in the small, secluded clearing.  It had been the only spot the wyvern was able to land in.

	“S-sorry *hurk* Daddy…” Lyrah groaned, shuddering as she finished up her business, trying hard not to get any yuck on her shamanic drape.  The shaman straightened up as the green in her cheeks faded, followed by a deep exhale.  “This is only supposed to last for, like, the first third of it, right?”

	Drenan didn’t make eye contact with his daughter as he spoke.  “Usually, yes.”

	“Usually?”  Drenan began a steady stride southward, but Lyrah quickly caught up to him.  “What do you mean [i]usually[/i]?”

	The bull swallowed hard.  “Well, uh… it can be different for everyone.  Your mother was a rare case where she threw up for… almost the entire pregnancy.”

	Lyrah let out an emphatic groan and slowly slumped to the ground, laying on her back and covering her eyes dramatically with one arm.  “Kill me now and spare me the pain.”

	“That is exactly what your mother said three months in,” Drenan remarked with a laugh and helped Lyrah back to her hooves.  “But she pulled through, and you will, too.”

	“I sure hope so,” Lyrah returned with a smile, then heavily leaned on her father as they resumed their trek.  “But I sure didn’t miss traveling on foot.”

	Drenan nodded.  “Well… if we can make it to Splintertree, we can get another flight if you think you can handle it.  If not, I suppose I will be carrying you when you need it.”

	Lyrah giggled.  “Is that right?  Think [i]you[/i] can handle carrying me that much?”

	“Well you [i]are[/i] pregnant, sweetheart.  Exercise is all well and good, but I will not let you suffer or struggle.”

	Lyrah grinned.  “Well in that case….”  The shaman deftly stepped in front of her father and reached up to clasp her hands around his thick neck.  Her eyelashes fluttered as she put on her most pathetic look.  “Pleeeease Daddy?”

	Drenan rolled his eyes and smiled, and with barely a grunt his hands slid down over his daughter’s rump and hefted her up into his arms, adjusting until he had one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her shoulders.

	Lyrah giggled as she clung to her father’s neck, nuzzling him lovingly as they made their way through the surprisingly tranquil forests of Ashenvale.  Her face buried warmly into his neck, and Lyrah found herself drinking in her father’s earthy scent over and over again, letting out soft moans in the process.  It was still quite early, but Lyrah could already tell her hormones were starting to ramp up, and every inhale relaxed her even more than the last.

	“Lyrah,” Drenan rumbled softly, unable to turn his head with her so tightly buried into his neck.  “If we linger for too long, it will be dark out.”

	“I know, I know,” she mumbled into his neck.  “You just… you smell really, really good.”

	“Is that so?” he returned, glancing down at his daughter’s fluttering drape, which haphazardly flashed him both of her heavy breasts with every other step.  The large bull weighed his options quietly, but all of it went out the window the moment his head lowered and his lips latched onto his pregnant daughter’s right nipple.

	Lyrah squeaked in surprise, but the sound melted into a husky moan.

	Drenan’s tongue swirled around her nipple as he watched her every twitch and shift in response.  His strong hand beneath her knees dared to shift just enough to slip up beneath her skirt, grasping a hold of the bare left cheek of her rump and squeezing hungrily.  His thumb deftly slipped between her cheeks, and his digit was instantly met with the nectar of arousal.
