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With haste in mind, Shele refrained from elaborating before her and Soren had dressed themselves, and before long all four of them were atop wyverns headed Southward above Kalimdor.  Any attempts to prod Shele were met with silence, but Drenan and Lyrah trusted their dearest friend and occasional lover with their lives.  There was no fear, but perhaps there was a bit of hesitation.

Less than an hour later, the four of them touched down in a secluded glade near the very peak of Mount Hyjal.  A single hut was perched along one cliff wall, its window lit up by the flicker of a dimly-glowing candle.  It was a place that was revered by the night elves and all druids for its connection with nature, and it was here that Shele held up a hand for her friends to stay back.  The druidess alone strode toward the door of the hut, but as she rose a hand to knock, the door swung open, and from behind it appeared the round face of... a human woman.  "Aye?  That you, Shele?"

Shele bowed her head graciously.  "Thornspeaker Saoirse, forgive me for my intrusion, but-"

A jovial laugh cut off her words, and the woman bolted from her hut and threw her arms happily around Shele.  Saoirse was certainly tall for a human --easily over six feet tall-- but Shele was still a head higher than the long braid of crimson hair that ran down her back.  A set of dark, almost ashen, green robes hugged the woman's form tightly, revealing her to be exceptionally curvaceous indeed.  Such a figure was often a trademark of humans born on Kul Tiras, but neither Drenan nor Lyrah knew much of the recently-rediscovered kingdom.  "Aw quit your damned formalities!" she cried in a thickly-accented dialect of Orcish.  "It's been ages!  Come, have a drink!  Shed a garment're two while you're at it!"

Shele smiled politely and returned her friend's embrace, but her expression remained serious.  "I fear a drink must wait.  I have brought some friends that are in need of your aid.  They wish to enter the Shadowlands."

Saoirse drew back from Shele and stared back at her with piercing green eyes, and without a word she marched right past the druidess to do the same to Drenan, then to Lyrah.  "Ain't welcome in Orgrimmar, eh?  Join the club.  Lemme guess: Drenan and Lyrah, right?  Shele's told me mountains about you two."

"Has she now?" Drenan prodded nervously.

"Mhm, said you two lovebirds've been damn good friends for years.  If Shele trusts y'all enough to come here, then I do too."

Both tauren physically relaxed a bit at this.  "Thank you," Lyrah said in earnest.  "We need to speak to a lost loved one for the sake of our relationship.  It's... it's just important."

"Understood," Saoirse replied simply.  "Been there, done that.  S'why I became a Thornspeaker t'begin with."

Shele looked as if a light wind could've blown her over.  "You are not going to stop them?"

Saoirse looked at her friend and let out a sharp laugh.  "Their minds're made up, hon.  It's in their eyes.  If we don't help 'em, they'll take even more dangerous routes.  We [i]can't[/i] stop 'em."

The druidess appeared to shrink a bit at this, and as she turned to look at Drenan and Lyrah, her arms spread to engulf them both in a timid hug.  "Please be careful, you two... you have to come back."

"They will," Saoirse interjected before the tauren couple could respond.  "As long as they follow my every word, anyway, which they will."  There was no doubt in the woman's words, and the Thornspeaker had wasted no time in arranging a few of her ceremonial incense as she spoke.  "So, this particular ritual [i]can[/i] be done with a potion, but the effects aren't nearly as predictable.  If we can do it the old-fashioned way, we will."

Both father and daughter hugged Shele back lovingly before the druidess began to back away, quietly returning to Soren's side who in turn draped a comforting arm around his mother's shoulders.  "And that way is...?" Drenan rumbled.

"Well, your lass has the look o' a shaman about her, which is good.  Means she has ties to the elements, and those ties can be used to not only breach, but create a temporary pathway to, the Shadowlands.  That can only happen, however, if we bring her as close to the veil as we can without lettin' her pass through," Saoirse explained simply without so much as looking up from her reagents.

Drenan and Lyrah exchanged nervous glances at this, with Lyrah daring to ask, "You mean, like... I need to kinda, sorta... die?"

"Almost," Saoirse clarified.  "Very, very close to it, but if ya actually die, this was all for nothing.  Our methods must be strictly nonlethal."

The fur on the back of Drenan's neck instantly stood upright.  Another glance toward Lyrah, however... found her blushing profusely.  "What is in your head?" Drenan rumbled accusingly.

"Um... well..." Lyrah replied and began to shift a bit nervously.  Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stood on the tips of her hooves, speaking directly into her father's ear.  "Remember what we've talked about a few times?  We could just do that... couldn't we?"

Part of Drenan immediately wished to spurn the idea.  Bringing his daughter to the brink of death's door was the very last thing in the world that he wanted.  At the same time, he was certain Lyrah had her mind made up, and over time this particular activity had... well, he'd been considering it, as long as she was certain it was what she wanted.  "I... ask the Thornspeaker," he said, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

The blush intensified in her cheeks as the chocolate-furred shaman darted over to Saoirse, doing a particularly poor job of containing her excitement.  She practically jumped at the chance to blurt out her method, but all Saoirse did was nod without so much as looking up at her.  "Whatever ruffles yer truffles, hon."

Lyrah was practically bouncing up and down on her hooves as she triumphantly hopped back over to her father.  "We're in the clear!  C'mon, this is gonna be fun!"

A heavy sigh escaped Drenan, and slowly he began to untie his druid-esque robes.  "It always ends up that way, now that you mention it."

