<104> Another three weeks flew by as Drenan and Kacheya returned to Ashenvale, more confident than ever traversing the wilds. It was certainly easier going, but Drenan wanted to be prepared before facing the night elves again, in case they’d decided to alter their bargain. The hunter had taken the time to explore a few quiet corners of the region, where he lucked out in finding a chest with… a single mail shoulder pad, but it was accompanied by an X-shaped harness he could strap his new spear to. It wasn’t much for armor, but he felt he’d at least taken a step above ‘near-naked’. The encampment had remained right where he’d remembered it, but Drenan kept to the shadows and circled around, looking specifically for Lyrah. It didn’t take long for the sound of her voice to reach his ear… moaning. Once certain he wouldn’t be seen, Drenan darted from the underbrush and knelt beneath a window at the base of a large tree, where he dared to peer inside. Sure enough, there was Lyrah, stark naked and spread-eagled on a particularly plush-looking, tauren-sized bed, with her hands pushed tightly between her thick thighs. She was thankfully alone in the room, but she was clearly enjoying getting a quiet moment to satiate her personal needs. Her appearance hadn’t changed much in the month and a half of time, though her belly did look perhaps a tiny bit bigger. The shaman’s eyes were tightly shut, and a strained moan escaped her as her body suddenly jerked into climactic fits, and a small spurt of her nectar splattered onto a rug on the floor. “Nngh… dammit, Daddy,” she half-moaned to herself, frustrated. “Where are you…? It’s not the same without you….” Her eyes slid open slowly as she sat herself upright, then had to stifle her own scream as she realized the bull was looking back at her through the window. “Daddy…!?” she whisper-yelled. Drenan lifted his head a bit further and pressed a finger to his lips. Lyrah immediately bolted over and knelt by the window to listen to her father. “It is good to see you well, Sweetheart!” he whispered through the glass. “How are you feeling? Have they hurt you?” Lyrah sighed. “I’m bored beyond belief -and admittedly a little cold without [i]any[/i] clothes at all- but I’m fine. Still getting sick most mornings, but nothing else exciting, if you can call [i]that[/i] exciting. To their credit, the elf medics have given me a few different herbs to take each morning to keep the baby healthy, and I think it kinda got rid of some of the nausea.” Relief flooded Drenan’s face. “That is wonderful to hear… but I fear if I tarry too long-” Drenan paused, taking note of Lyrah’s sheepish look. “Yeaaaah, Dad, about that… I was [i]kinda[/i] told that you were back in the area, like, two hours ago… and I miiiiight have been putting on a li’l show to welcome you back… but case and point, I’m pretty sure they already know you’re here.” The hunter had indeed been too preoccupied to catch Kacheya’s cries from above. The bull turned slowly to find three scantily-armored, night elf sentinels staring at him from a few yards away, their arms crossed and with amused expressions on their faces. The bull let out a helpless sigh and stood upright. “I submit myself willingly… but I am keeping the spear.” * * * * * The elves permitted Drenan to reunite with Lyrah in her temporary home, the two of them embracing before sitting down and catching up on all that had happened. A cheeky, smug smile appeared on Lyrah’s face as she took note of his new weapon. “He he he… I’m already pretty familiar with Drenan [i]Thunderspear[/i].” Drenan chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That was not my intent.” “Mmmmh, you do seem stronger with that spear, even though the real spear was on you all along.” “All right, all right.” “How about a little ‘target practice’ with that long, thick spear of yours, hmm?” Drenan was incredibly flustered, and a glimpse of a night elf on guard outside forced him to shake away a visible blush. Lyrah giggled. “I’m [i]teasing[/i]! But we definitely gotta find some private time [i]soon[/i],” she insisted and grasped both of his weathered hands. “I don’t think we’ve gone this long without… you know… since we started this.” “Agreed. It has been a very, very long six weeks.” “You’re no worse for wear though!” Lyrah mused, tracing her hand up one of his burly arms. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed. You’re, like… [i]ripped[/i] or something.” While far from accurate, Drenan definitely had grown stronger, though that soft belly was still an ever-present reminder that he likely won’t ever be what he was in his youth again. “A benefit of keeping you safe. I got the answers I needed, and I feel… whole again.” Lyrah beamed upon hearing this and nuzzled into his chest. “I’m proud of you, Daddy. I know what you did wasn’t easy.” “It was necessary,” was all he said and embraced his daughter even tighter. “But unfortunately it did not solve our current predicament. I doubt we are free to leave the camp just yet. Have they told you what they are planning for us?” Lyrah was about to shake her head when the door swung open, and in marched Quela in her usual attire and carrying her own, feather-laden spear. “Perfect timing. I was just about to call in your debt.” Both tauren leaned into each other a bit further as they stared down the night elf. “Tell us what you need so we can be on our way,” Drenan rumbled. “You have already set us back a great deal.” Quela sized up the fresh hunter and smirked. “Renewed confidence hardly seems like much of a setback,” she pointed out. “But it matters not. Indeed, I have a single task for you two, and after that you’re free to go.” “What is it?” Lyrah prodded. The night elf’s smirk deepened. “You’re gonna help us take over Splintertree Post.”