<2> The worgen wasted no time in scooping up the stone and following her. "Wait! Halt! I've been ordered to assist you and return once our tenure out here is complete, nothing more!" The elf stopped and turned to look back at him angrily. "You don't even know my name, do you?" she accused. Nathan was at a loss for a quiet moment. Portia had neglected to fill him in on the more intricate details of the assignment. She sighed and faced him properly again. "Quela Riverstone, and it sounds like my mother just found the first stray that crossed her path and turned him loose on me, [i]again[/i]." "Now listen here," Nathan cocked back this time, drawing himself up to his full height. "I may not be from around here, luv, but I was given seniority on this task. My name is Nathan Aldrich, and I will not tolerate the level of insubordination and disrespect you've shown me!" The worgen had put on his deepest, most stern voice, and his last words had risen to nearly a shout. Quela visibly shrank a bit at this. She was already somewhat short for a night elf at just over six feet in height, but the dark-furred Nathan was easily two feet taller than she was when not hunched over. It took the night elf a moment to reassert herself and stare him down as best as she could. "I'll join the Horde before I take orders from you!" In the blink of an eye, Quela's elven form disappeared in a puff of smoke, replaced by a large, purple-furred feline that darted off into the woods without another word. "Oh hell no," Nathan grumbled, and he, too, was replaced by a feline form of his own before bolting off as quick as he could after her. Truth be told, he despised having to yell, but commanding other scouts and the like wasn't really his forte, making him wonder why Portia had sent [i]him[/i] of all people. Quela's legs carried her as quickly as she could through the drab woods of Darkshore. Anger and hurt had clouded her mind completely, Why [i]him[/i] of all people? A glance back revealed the dark-furred feline was just a few feet behind her, and he appeared to be gaining on her faster than she'd expected. Panic began to settle in, and with all her might she mustered a final burst of speed, bolting through a thick line of trees... ... and right over a short cliff to tumble head-first into a rushing river. Nathan skidded to a halt at the river's edge and looked down into the waters to find the still-feline Quela, flailing and coughing desperately as she struggled to stay above the rolling waters. [i]Did she not know her aquatic form yet?[/i] Nathan had to wonder. The worgen counted to five in his head as he watched her struggle, but she did not transform again. It was his turn to panic only briefly as he flung himself into the river after her, his feline form quickly replaced by that of a rubbery-skinned orca. The rushing water meant little to his sleek form was he swam right along with the river, catching up to Quela within seconds. He could not speak while shapeshifted, but his left fin moved frantically as if to tell her to grab on. The feline druid tumbled head over heels in the water, indeed proving that swimming was not her forte in the slightest. She only realized he was there the moment she brushed his smooth skin, and the next puff of smoke reverted her to her elven form, allowing her to latch onto his dorsal fin at the last second. The orca-worgen surfaced immediately, sending Quela into a serious coughing fit, horking up a startling amount of water she had accidentally swallowed. Orca-Nathan slowed his pace amid the rushing water, making their way back down stream until they'd reached a beach along the Southern bank, upon which he beached himself and allowed Quela to flop off of one side and splay herself atop the sand, struggling to breathe. Another puff of smoke and he was a worgen once more, likewise breathing heavily as he sat himself down a few feet away from her respectfully. Quela remained silent for several long moments as she worked to even out her heaving chest. Her garments had been thoroughly soaked in the river, and the tie in her ponytail had dropped nearly to its end, leaving her long hair disheveled. A few scratches had appeared upon her ankles and arms from her flailing, and one such scratch ran from her upper right chest and downward, leaving a large tear in her top wrap with only an inch of wet fabric remaining intact. The cold water had likewise brought forth two rather large nubs beneath the fabric, though she didn't appear to be bothered by the immodesty. "So... what... you... want a medal...?" she finally piped up. Nathan grimaced. "Cooperation is all... and maybe an explanation," he shot back softly. Quela lifted her head to size him up and down slowly. The druid's standard robes were likewise soaked through and clinging to his matted, wet fur. Surprisingly, he didn't quite have the usual smell of a wet dog, but the smell that did reach her nose was strangely pleasant to take in. There wasn't a single scratch on his body, but the robes had drifted open down his torso, revealing a set of intriguingly muscular pectorals to accompany his toned abdomen. The fur upon his chest was much lighter, almost white, compared to the rest of his dark fur, and there were several much darker stripe-like patterns along his arms, crossing between the dark and the light patches of fur. The anger had fled from his eyes, and their unusual softness seemed to finally disarm the elf a bit. "Fine," she relented as she sat herself up on the beach. "Ask, and I will answer honestly, but you only get three questions."