<100>

	The night elf was surprisingly strong as she began to lead him out of the camp, but Drenan did not resist her.  After the camp had disappeared from sight, however, he couldn’t resist adding, “It is usually unwise not to blindfold a prisoner traveling to and from your base.”

	“Our base moves daily,” Quela replied in near-perfect Orcish, much to Drenan’s surprise.  The night elf glanced at him with a hardened gaze.  “Oh don’t look at me like that.  I’m a druid, and so is my life-mate.  If we didn’t know how to talk to tauren, we wouldn’t be part of the Cenarion Circle.  And besides… Sallette is still in training and she needs some practice.”

	“I see,” Drenan returned.  “So why do you release me and not my mate?”

	Quela didn’t look at him as she spoke.  “Because you are lost, Bull.  And I do not mean in the forest.”

	“You do not know me,” Drenan returned.

	“But I know Elune, or Mu’sha as you might call her,” Quela shot back.  “She is the embodiment of the Light for my people, as An’she is for yours.  You claimed your last name was Lighthand, yes?  Unusual tribal name for a tauren.”

	Drenan grimaced and sighed.  “I abandoned my tribe long ago.  I earned the name ‘Lighthand’ of my own accord.”

	“But it no longer suits you.  I sense no Light within you any longer.  Has your An’she abandoned you?”

	Drenan’s heart skipped a beat, but he said nothing.

	“Your silence speaks volumes.  You have done something unforgivable in An’she’s eyes, have you not?”

	“I… I do not know what I did.  If love is such a crime….”

	It was Quela’s turn to sigh.  “In some peoples’ eyes, it is.  Once upon a time, I thought it a crime to stray beyond my people.  Yet today, I find myself wed to the most wonderful worgen I have ever met, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  The Light is rigid and simultaneously both forgiving and unforgiving.  Its judgment, not mine, will answer your questions.”

	“I disagree,” Drenan returned.  “I attempted to commune with Mu’sha, or truly any spirit who would listen, during our time living in Moonglade.  I was met with silence.”

	“An’she and Mu’sha -I much prefer ‘Elune’- coexist harmoniously, but one does not thrive where the other does.  Of course she did not speak to you in Moonglade, and you cannot simply [i]ask[/i] at any old shrine.  In the far corner of the Stonetalon Mountains, there is a little-known shrine to An’she.”

	Drenan couldn’t hide his immediate curiosity.  “Truly?”

	Quela nodded and stopped walking.  “The shrine only answers to those of genuine heart.”

	“You believe An’she will answer me?”

	“That is for him to judge, not me.  You could be walking right into a dead end for all I know,” she freely admitted, “But that’s not my problem.”

	Drenan turned to face her.  “Why do this for me?  You know nothing about me.”

	The powerful night elf hesitated, her stoic exterior fading for a brief moment.  “Perhaps it’s merely intuition… perhaps I can sense the dormant Light within you.  Perhaps I can see how much your daughter means to you, and there’s a part of me that envies it enough to keep Lyrah from being without you.”

	Drenan was visibly shaken.  “How did you…?”

	Quela smirked.  “She called you ‘Daddy’ once.  It didn’t strike me as a pet name, and you just proved my guess right.”

	A growl and sigh of defeat left the bull.  “So… what are you going to do with my daughter?”

	“Keep her and protect her, as long as she behaves,” Quela said simply.  “We do take Horde prisoners, but we wouldn’t give up a pregnant female to the Stockades.  We’re not monsters.”

	“And why can she not come with me?” Drenan persisted.

	Quela smirked at this.  “This is [i]your[/i] trial, ‘Lighthand’.  And besides, I need insurance that you’ll come back.  Our business isn’t finished.”

	“So it is a debt you want for this,” the bull stated more than asked.

	Her smile widened.  “Nothing comes for free, bull-man, but if you’re not back in three months….”  The night elf let the not-so-subtle warning hang in the air as she turned and strode away.  

	“One last question!” Drenan called quickly.

	“I’m listening,” she called, though she didn’t stop walking.

	“Why did you strip us!?”

	Quela laughed.  “Never seen tauren anatomy before!  And you can’t have any help completing your trial.  Safe travels, Drenan.”  And with that, the druid shifted into a large, dark-furred feline, and bolted into the underbrush.

	Drenan narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as he snorted and turned toward his own path.  Ashenvale, however, was foreign territory to him, and the canopy of trees high above him made it nearly impossible to see where the sun was in the sky.  “Southwest?” he muttered to himself, glancing around the path blankly.  “... Shit.”

* * * * *

	Back at the night elf camp, the naked Lyrah had been led into the trunk of a large tree by the trembling Aurida.  The scowl on the tauren’s face said everything her gagged mouth couldn’t.  A bark-covered door swung shut behind her, and Aurida guided Lyrah onto the edge of a leaf-strewn bed.  “I’m sorry!  I’m so, [i]so[/i] sorry!” the elf half-whispered in broken Orcish as she hurriedly pulled the gag out of Lyrah’s mouth, then yanked the vines from her wrists.

	As Aurida faced Lyrah again, the tauren’s hand shot up lightning fast and slapped the elf so hard that she saw stars.  “[i]Sorry[/i]?!  You helped [i]capture[/i] me!”

	Aurida reeled back in shock and rubbed her cheek as it turned a dark red.  “Do you-”

	“Oh I remember you all right,” Lyrah huffed and threw an arm over her exposed chest.  “I mean, sorta, anyway.  Feralas is kind of a blur to me….”

	Aurida closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  “I promise, I was only trying to protect you and your father.  Ever since that day, I’ve been learning Orcish in case we met again… but I hadn’t imagined it would be like this.”

	Lyrah’s gaze softened just a bit.  “What do you want from me?”
