I've never been a bad girl
But I'm no good girl either
There's more than just black or white
And more than fifty shades
I'm going down
Down to the underground
There is no light or shadow
I can lead or I can follow
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.**
It had been strange times for the young druid in the intervening years since her departure from Outlands. After reaching the culmination of her druidic training, she had wandered for a bit, sight-seeing as it were, and losing herself in the majesty of new lands and the comfort of old ones. She lost touch with not only her extended tribe, Horns of Shu'halo, but also her family and friends. Indeed, she became quit
Runeclaw might have enjoyed her flight if the matter at hand had not been so tedious and at the same time so vitally important to her. She could smell the ocean off to the west and hear the cries of the gulls and the muted crash of the waves with her enhanced avian senses. Once upon a time these things had given her comfort. She had been lulled to sleep by the familiar sights and sounds of Feralas for as long as she could remember, but today, they gave the young druid no enjoyment at all as she skimmed along the tall trees and scanned the healthy-appearing landscape.
Runeclaw had been surprised when she first crested the craggy peaks dividin
Runeclaw was just approaching close enough to determine what exactly the group of riders and flyers might be up to when something caught her eye down below. Just north of the Gordunni Outpost and nestled into the hills halfway between Feralas and Mulgore was a small encampment clinging to the crag like lichen to a smooth river rock. Her heart skipped half a beat and she swooped low toward the earth-colored leather tents, wings rejuvenated as she recognized the painted design decorating the shelter.
She excitedly hit the ground so hard that she went rolling across it like a wayward furry cannonball as she shifted to her natural fo
Runeclaw stood at the annex and gaped at the rainbow-hued spread before her. All of Azeroth's races equally shared the sun-dappled cornucopia of festivities littering the landscape like the aftermath of a ticker-tape parade. She even caught a glimpse of new faces, the not-a-Druid-bear bears. She was actually itching to make the acquaintance of at least one Pandaren because she still remembered fondly licking out the last few hoppy drops from Chen's (nearly) empty keg in The Barrens. She had heard tell that particular keg actually originally belonged to one these strange new bears, and she was dying to know where she could find some more storm
Runeclaw stood with her hands on her hips and squinting against An'she's winking rays as The Sun played tag with cottony clouds in the spring field of the brilliant cerulean sky. She was gazing intently across Stonebull Lake at the gnoll encampment up the hill on the other side. Her lower jaw worked thoughtfully in that rolling side-to-side motion that bovines tend to have when chewing. There were telltale smears of chocolate staining her fingers and the short fur around her mouth.
"You think maybe they have some over there?" she mused aloud to the two baby dragons at her feet. They ignored her and continued wrestling across the ground, a ti
Immolation, Part I
Oblivion. Murky bleakness eclipsing the sunshine of her immortal soul. No day. No night. No morning, afternoon, or evening. Time hemorrhaged.
The druid's eyes cracked open. They were crusted and shot with crimson veins, rheumy eyes that looked out and saw only darkness. Lids with too heavy a burden to remain open, they closed again as another convulsive sob wracked her frame.
Unmoored, adrift. Not in the Dream, not out of the Dream. Nightmares of her own design far worse than those that dwelled in Emerald. Twisted tentacles grasping, clutching, clawing, digging, dragging, rending. Invasive, persuasive, pernicious things
Runeclaw spent the better part of a month in the tiny village nestled into Honeydew Glade. Many of the Pandaren looked upon her with kindness and pity. She didn't particularly care for the sympathy, but she was well aware that it was by her own hand that she appeared so abject. They helped her tend to her wounds from her landing and gave her room to breathe. They sought to help her heal by offering not just poultices but aphorisms as well. The Pandaren were astute enough to realize not all her injuries originated in bone and sinew. In return, she helped them tend their crops, babysat their children while they toiled, told them the tales of Lo
The sun was a haloed orb of warmth and light floating above the treetops. The grass and leaves giggled with each tickling tease of puffy breeze that caressed them. Flowers bowed their colorful heads with flirtatious winks of pinks, blues, yellows, and purples. The occasional sultry red made a daring appearance as well, just to lend the floral palette a little upscale classiness. Nearby, the lazy burbling water of the small tributary separating the Jade Forest from the Valley of the Four Winds could be heard adding its commentary to the local conversation. Here, the earth swelled with breath and sang and danced and drank and feasted and grew.
Runeclaw sat next to the campfire as her tail swished in anticipation behind her. Staccato popping came from a covered iron pot hanging over the embers as the hunter gave the pot a little jostle now and then.
"Almost ready," he grinned as the popping noise slowed and then came to a stop. He pulled the lid off the pot with a flourish to reveal the fluffy white kernels overflowing within. "Tada! Now just hold on a minute!" he playfully admonished while shoving her muzzle out of the way. "I need to put the butter and salt on first, you know that."
Runeclaw chuffed and sat down on her haunches with affected patience while he doctored their snac