((Comment: An aside story I wrote from the main story of "House Dorthonion" which explores what happened to Kiril in Kalmidor and the relationship he developed with a Kaldorei druid. This will be yaoiful and include sexual content, so if you don't like sexual content or yaoi, please shoo before it is too late for you.))

Even before he jumped Kiril had known that he was not going to make the far bank. He was wounded and weighted down by his mail armor and his sword. But he couldn't stop running, there were angry bear-people chasing him and not a few of those fawn women he had inadvertently insulted by entering their camp. Or had it been the fire that upset them? He wasn't exactly sure what had brought down the wrath of Ashenvale Forest on his head. What he knew was that he wasn't going to make the far side of the river, that he could not stop running, and so he was going to have to jump anyway. There was stone out a little farther than the center... perhaps if he aimed for this...

With a lightness belying both his wounds and his heavy armor Kiril leapt from the bank, never breaking stride and landed badly on one foot on the side of the stone. He heard his ankle pop and then crunch as it twisted under. And then with a cry of shock and pain he was in the river. The swift current pulled him downstream, and his heavy armor pulled him towards the bottom. He flailed, struggling for the surface, finding it a few times before he desperately began to shed his sword, his gauntlets, anything he could get off in the confusion of the swirling river. He snatched desperately at overhanging branches and finally caught one, spluttering and coughing as he clung to it for dear life. His shoulder was screaming, the deep gash left from a flying spear was bleeding freely into the water, and he prayed to the Light under his breath that it didn't attract anything worse the river trout. His ankle throbbed. If only he could get one second's rest he might be able to heal himself, though his healing powers were pitifully weak. But then he was a pitiful excuse a paladin, always had been...

As he clung to the branch, when he wasn't coughing, he looked around, trying to gauge his position in the river. Back behind him on the far bank from which he'd launched himself into the river the bear-people and the fawn women had begun to line up, presumably to watch him drown. He glared at them with brilliant blue eyes. They seemed to be watching him passively, only mild interested in his plight. He looked back at the near bank and wondered if he could swing himself close enough to it to be pushed against it by the current. He was toying with this idea when he looked back at the far bank to see just how many of the forest creatures had lined up to witness his demise. As he did so his mouth fell open and was immediately filled with river water, forcing him to cough and almost lose his grip on the branch. The largest bear he had ever seen was now standing among the creatures. He swore that it was looking at him, and the creatures around it seemed strangely unconcerned. The bear sniffed the air and then snuffled at the ground, giving a low growl before it started trundling down the bank and jumped into the river.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Kiril spluttered, coughing around his words as he realized the bear was actually swimming towards him. It was now or never to make the bank. Using all the strength he had at his disposal the young elf pulled himself up out of the water as far as he could and swung himself towards the bank, releasing the branch at the last possible moment, hoping his momentum and the current would send him into the bank. It did. Rather hard. With a grunt he clawed at the vegetation, hauling himself up the bank where he coughed up a good amount of water before forcing himself to his feet and stumbling farther into the forest. After a few moments he could hear the crashing of the bear still behind him, and the grunting cadence of its breathing. He was limping, half hopping, and had no idea where he was going to go or how he was going to get away. And now that he had ditched his sword he didn't even have any way to defend himself. The idea of being mauled to death by a bear was not a pleasant one.

He heard a sharp growl to his left and looked, stumbling as he did so. A white wolf was snarling and quickly joined in chasing him. Kiril sobed, veering sharply to the right. "Why... does everything... in this forest... hate me?!" he panted through clenched teeth. As it turned out going right had been a bad idea as he suddenly found that he was once again about to run out of placesto run. Only this time there was no river to break his fall, only a cliff that fell away several thousand feet to a speck of twisting road far below. He contemplated throwing himself off just to get things over with quickly, but found his sense of self preservation was stronger than his impulse to end his life without getting mauled by a bear and/or a wolf. At the pivital moment he reached out and caught himself on the trunk of a huge tree, whose roots had grown out over the ledge, snaking partway down the side of the cliff. Perhaps if he could crawl out onto them.

A deafening roar made him spin around. The bear and the wolf were having a face off. Apparently neither one wanted to share. Suddenly the wolf broke, making a leap for Kiril. He braced himself for the terrible impact of claws and teeth, but the bear got to wolf first, leaping after it from behind, huge paws and claws dragging its hind quarters down to the ground. The ensuing scene was grizzly, and Kiril had to look away. When he finally looked back the wolf was dead, its white fur stained with red blood, and the bear was regarding him with a bloodstained muzzle. It took a heavy step toward Kiril, and he could have sworn it was now favoring a front paw. A wave of panic washed over him. Taking a shuddering breath Kiril stepped back and felt the cliff edge under his heel. He looked over his shoulder at the ground below. When he looked back at the bear, he'd made up his mind and it felt good to be calm for a moment. He stepped back with the other foot and then closed his eyes letting go of the tree trunk.

"Karath'anu!"

The shout was so unexpected that Kiril opened his eyes, arms windmilling as he felt himself start to fall backwards. His hand met another's vice-like grip and his eyes saw not a bear, but an elf taller than he was, his face bloodied around his mouth and bleeding from a gash in his head. The hand belonged to him and was gripping tightly onto Kiril's own, keeping him from falling as the elf gripped the tree with his other arm. The elf was grimacing in pain and Kiril could see almost fang-like eyeteeth where he grit his teeth together. With a primal scream that was half effort, half pain the strange elf hauled him back as hard as he could, sending them both sprawling. The tall elf fell back onto his rear, clutching at his wrist, and Kiril landed almost on top of the dead wolf, whose bloody stink he could actually smell.

The young Quel'dorei lay face down trying to catch his breath. He peeked at the other elf, taking in his form slowly. His skin was color almost like twilight, a grayish blue that rippled over smooth, defined muscles. His hair was a shocking dark green, and pulled back into a high pony tail, though pieces were falling out to frame his strong face. Animalistic eyes glowed with an eerie golden light. He was making a low growling sound as he continued to cradle his wrist. Kiril got slowly to his hands and knees, groaning as his shoulder protested, it would have been the wounded one that got wrenched around.

"You're... Kaldorei," he said wonderingly. "A druid."

At the sound of his voice the Kaldorei turned his head, fixing Kiril with a narrow, but somehow peaceful stare. Kiril's eyes went wide and then he collapsed onto the ground, asleep. The druid regarded his sleeping form and then sighed, nodding, seemingly satisfied.

When Kiril woke some time later it was to an incredible feeling of wellness, and the smell of something cooking. His eyes opened slowly and he found himself looking up into darkness that slowly revealed itself to be the inside of tree trunk, hollowed out meticulously as the tree continued to live and grow around it. Kiril slowly propped himself up and was surprised to find that his shoulder and ankle were both completely healed. He looked around, and discovered that the tree trunk was actually huge, the hollowed-out area must have been easily the size of a small home, though he could not see much beyond the screen that seemed to separate the sleeping area he was in with what he assumed was the living area. The little bedroom consisted of a bed with a frame of curly wood and a small side table with what looked like a wisp light suspended over it by an invisible candlestick. Pushing himself off the bed Kiril noticed for the first time that he had been undressed, his armor (what he hadn't been able to shed into the river) and the worn clothes beneath had been replaced by a soft linen shirt with fur-lined sleeves and a pair of loose, very loose, cloth pants which also boasted fur around the hems which drug on the floor when Kiril stood up.

He couldn't believe that he was actually in the home of a Kaldorei druid. He had wondered if he would encounter any of the woodland cousins, but had not expected to get this close to one. He poked his head around the screen. The room beyond was simple, but equally elegant in it's aesthetic, natural architecture. There didn't appear to be anyone there. A brazier in the far corner was lit and something was bubbling on it slowly.

"Hello?" he called.

There was a sound from outside the open hole in the trunk that Kiril guessed served as the front door. A moment later the druid from earlier poked his head around the corner. "Ah! Isnu'alah!" Kiril recognized the greeting, but the string of Darnassian that followed it left him blank. He thought he caught the word 'sleep' and perhaps something about a meal. He shook his head.

"I don't really speak Darnassian," he said realizing that the druid probably didn't speak Thalassian either. The druid blinked at him, coming more fully into the room. He was wearing clothes similar to Kiril's, the main difference being that they fit him. Kiril smiled, finding it hard to take his eyes off the Kaldorei. He was fascinating, so similar and so different in so many ways to Kiril's own race. Kiril felt uncomfortable under his golden stare, which seemed as steady and intrigued as his own. He cleared his throat, trying again, this time in the common language used in the Alliance which he had learned in his preparation to become a paladin. "Do you understand common?"

The night elf's thick eyebrows raised and a slow smile spread across his shapely lips. "That I do," he responded. His voice was deep and smooth, and sounded different than when he was speaking Darnassian.

Kiril sighed in relief, and then smiled a bit awkwardly. "I think I owe you a thank you for saving my life. At least, I think that's what happened."

The druid gave a soft chuckle and then came into the room, walking over to the brazier. "Yes, on two accounts. If the forest hadn't torn you apart for you indiscretions than I at least saved you from killing yourself. Are you hungry?"

"Indiscretions?" Kiril asked a bit incredulously. "If you're talking about walking into that camp of fawn-women, I had no idea they were there. That was an accident. And yes... I am rather hungry." It seemed strange to have fled from Theramore only to find himself talking in common tongue again with a Kaldorei of all people.

The druid nodded thoughtfully and then ladled out two bowls of stew. He gave one to Kiril, their hands brushing briefly, and then motioned him to follow him outside. Kiril did as he was told, but paused in his tracks when a large black saber cat looked up at him as he exited the tree. It lashed it's thick black tail and gave a huge yawn, showing off a set of giant, yellowing teeth. The druid sat down near the beast's head and said something to him softly in Darnassian. He looked up expectantly at Kiril, and then said, "Shando won't hurt you. I've told him he is to leave you alone until I tell him otherwise."

Somehow this didn't comfort Kiril much but he made a spot for himself on a nearby root and sipped from the bowl as he watched the druid do the same, mimicking his surprisingly clean method of eating with his fingers. Though Kiril's method turned out to be not quite as clean. As he ate he looked around. They were on a hillside, or perhaps mountainside was more accurate. A trail cut through the large trees and out of sight only a small ways from the door. To his left there was another large tree, also with a hollow in the trunk. This hollow was smaller, however and had a small glowing stone in it that pulsed with a pleasant and soothing light. Kiril suddenly had the uneasy realization that he had no idea where he was. If he got up and walked into the forest now he would be completely and utterly lost not knowing if the road was north or south, east or west.

Kiril looked back at the druid, his unease growing. "Thank you again. Not only for saving my life, but for the meal and for patching me up. If you'll give me my clothes back and point me towards the road I won't impose on you any further," he said, trying to keep his voice sounding light.

The druid looked up and blinked at him and then smiled, though it was not quite a warming sight. Rather it sent a small chill down Kiril's spine. "No, I don't think I can do that."

Kiril laughed, a small nervous sound and set his bowl on his knees. "What do you mean?"

The druid shrugged, an impossibly fluid motion. "You've upset the forest. I don't think I can let you leave until you've restored the balance by earning it's trust and forgiveness."

Kiril stared at the druid, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean, 'not let me leave?' You can't keep me prisoner here!" He stood up, trying to ignore the fact that he'd forgotten his bowl was on his knees and that it was now tipped over at his feet.

The druids eyes went to the bowl and the up to Kiril's face and then down to the bowl again. "That's so wasteful..."

"You're not even listening to me! I'm not your prisoner!" Kiril insisted.

"You're right. You're not, but I am telling you that if you wander out into the forest alone it will retaliate. And since you have neither armor to defend yourself or weapons to strike back against it, and you don't know where the road or even another friendly face might be... it seems that your best option is to stay." He voice was measured and conversational, it's normality irked Kiril. He didn't even know what to say, so he just stood there mute and furious. The druid sighed and got to his feet, setting his bowl aside carefully. "If you leave you will probably come to great harm. If you stay I will teach you to make peace with the forest, and anything else about the balance that you care to learn."

Kiril wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to learn anything about the balance? These are not my ways!"

The druid cocked his head to the side. "Then why are you here? Why would you come to this place if you felt it had nothing to teach you?"

Kiril opened his mouth to respond with a retort, but found that he didn't have one. He made several false starts at comebacks and then gave up. "I don't know."

"Do you have somewhere else to be?"

"... No."

"Then you might as well stay. Afterall if you do you get meals, a warm bed, a dry roof, and companionship," he smiled.

Kiril pouted. "And what do you get?"

"I get to teach you about the balance as is my duty as a druid. And I get to teach it to the first Quel'dorei in possibly millenia," he said with an almost greedy glint in his eye and held out his hand. "And perhaps you'll teach me something as well. Tamarack Strongbough."

Kiril looked at the offered hand. It was strong and honest looking. Why not accept it? After all the druid was right. He'd come north to Ashenvale out of sheer curiosity. Fate had offered him a surefire way to satiate it. How many other Kaldorei would have been so kind, and so willing to share something of their culture. They were notoriously reclusive, so much so that the world had all but forgotten about them for thousands of year. It had been barely a year since the Alliance and Horde alike had stood with them at Mount Hyjal. He'd heard tales about the battle from his sister, Aeltha, a powerful paladin, and the mark he always seemed to be falling short of. He'd left Theramore for a reason...

He took the offered hand, lightly tanned skin slipping against blue-gray. "Kiril Lightweaver."

The druid smiled. "Andu falah dor. Let balance be restored."

Kiril gave an uneasy smile in response and withdrew his hand. "You want to tell me just exactly what I did to upset this so-called balance in the first place?"

Tamarack looked at him a bit blankly as if he could not conceive of him not already knowing. "You trespassed terribly. You entered a dryad grove without permission, you hunted in Furbolg territory, and you desecrated a sacred tree. All in one day."

Kiril put his hands on his hips. "I did no such thing to any tree!" As far as the "dryads" and "Furbolgs" were concerned Kiril could not be certain he didn't do either of those things. "And how was I supposed to even know about any of those things. I'm a stranger here!"

Tamarack blinked. "Exactly. You are a stranger here, yet you went about your business as if you belonged here, ignoring the fact that the forest and its inhabitants have rules that they have always lived by."

"But how could I possibly know that?!"

"You ask by observing. The forest will tell you everything you need to know if you are patient enough to watch and listen."

Kiril scowled, the druid was being impossible. "Well how was I supposed to know that exploring, finding food, and making a camp were grievous offenses?"

Tamarack shook his head and blinked again. "By observing..."

"Observing what?! It's all just the same looking rocks and trees and shrubs. What could I possibly have seen that would have told me not to do any of those things?"

Tamarack sighed and hunkered down, putting his face in his hands. He gave a little groan and then looked up at Kiril. "Perhaps the marks in the trunks of trees that Furbolgs use to mark their territory. Or the totems they place to warn trespassers of their presence. If you had looked you might have seen the wisps and the lanterns, the carefully maintained moss gardens that mark a dryad grove as you bumbled into it without a care in the world. And maybe had you bothered to notice you would have seen the wreath of straw and paper around the base of the giant tree you sat beneath marked it as something sacred as you burned a piece of its fallen branches as firewood."

Kiril was left speechless for several moments, not able to fathom how he could be held responsible for not noticing such minute things. "It was kindling," he said at last. "It was a piece of dead branch. And I felt that the tree was special, it was beautiful and its why I chose to rest there. But I didn't rip a part of it from it's living bark to burn in glee. It was a piece of kindling!"

"It was a part of something sacred," Tamarack said simply as if that should explain the whole problem. Kiril opened his mouth to retort again, but the druid help up his hand for silence. "You will understand. And when you do, you will be able to leave here and travel safely on your own. But first you must make peace with nature, and earn its trust again."

Kiril sighed, obviously arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere. "And how do I do that?"

Tamarack stood and gave Kiril a quick smile. "Well you can start by cleaning up the stew I worked so hard to make. And when you are done you can help me clean the pelt of the wolf I had to kill on your behalf." He pointed to a pack some ways away that was deeply stained on the bottom and Kiril realized the skin of the wolf must be inside.

"What did you do with the rest of it?" he asked absently and more to himself than to Tamarack as he knelt down to try to clean up the spilled meal.

"I made stew."

Kiril felt lost in his daily dealings with Tamarack and the balance. It seemed to him that the things Tamarack had to tell him or to show him or to involve him in were often randomly patterned together. One day a lengthy explanation on the nature of moss: how it grew on trees, how it grew on rocks, how it grew underground, in sunlight and in darkness, how it could be eaten, and used to mask one's scent among many other things that Kiril had never cared to know about moss. Perhaps another day he would be roused from the bed - Tamarack tended to sleep either on the floor in the form of a night saber or curled up outside with Shando - in the middle of the night by a bright-eyed Tamarack who would wordlessly drag him from the tree, through the forest, to some remote hilltop where Kiril was then instructed to watch the stars for the rest of the night. Another day they would clean more pelts while Kiril learned more about tanning leather than he cared to know. Another day they tended the small shrine in utter silence for the entirety of the day, and yet other days Tamarack would simply sleep sometimes for days on end. During such stretches of time Kiril found that he could not wake the druid no matter how he tried - and when he did it was usually met with a growl from Shando - and so he did very little but read the few books that Tamarack kept on hand. They were written in Darnassian, so although the characters were familiar, the language itself was not. But with little else to do he began to puzzle the meanings of familiar looking words out, and so little by little began to gain a basic understanding of the relationship between Darnassian and Thalassian. But over time Kiril began to make connections between the sporadic and random lessons he received from the druid, coming to understand that the cobbled-together feeling of things had much more to do with the way Tamarack's own mind worked than from any overall lesson regarding the balance.

Kiril was curled up on a corner of the bed reading what he was fairly sure was an annotated history of the Kaldorei civilization, wearing the new leathers that he and druid had finally finished making for him: a light leather vest lined and trimmed with the white wolf's fur and a pair of doe-skin leggings which were soft enough to feel like a second skin. Well really Tamarack had made the clothes himself, but Kiril had done his fair share of preparing the leather. Tamarack was sleeping beside him, had been sleeping there for the better part of two days having chosen for some reason to fall asleep on the bed, which was unusual for him. But seeing as there was only one bed, and Tamarack wasn't going to be roused, Kiril didn't mind simply folding himself into whatever space was left. It had been raining steadily since the morning.

Kiril looked up from the book when he felt Tamarack stir, a sign that he was waking, because when he slept like this it was always in utter stillness. Tamarack made a small, fussy sound and rolled onto his back. Kiril looked down at him with an amused smile, watching as golden eyes opened slowly and then blearily began to look around the room. Kiril leaned over him, chuckling. "Ishnu'alah."

Tamarack smiled back sleepily, turning his head to look up into Kiril's face. "Ishnu'alah."

"What are you doing when you sleep like that?" Kiril asked after a moment.

Tamarack's smile broadened slightly. "Dreaming." Kiril raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He continued to not say anything as Tamarack reached up and touched his face and then ran the tips of his fingers down through Kiril's long orange-red hair. "You have the most beautiful color of hair," Tamarack said, his voice still hazy from sleep. "I wish I could see it in in my dreams."

Kiril blushed, an uncomfortable sensation, mostly because he was not sure why Tamarack should be able to elicit such a response from him. "I think you're still dreaming," he grumbled, pulling back. He could have sworn Tamarack's fingers tightened in the ends of his hair for a moment. Unfolding his legs he rose on the bed and stepped over the druid and onto the floor. He was still blushing when he walked out into the rain and took a deep breath of the freshly washed air.

And that was the first time that Kiril felt it, or at least the first time that he acknowledged that he felt it, the electric tension. How long had it been there? Or had it just been born in that moment? Kiril looked back over his shoulder. Tamarack blinked at him from the bed where he now sat, feet on the floor, loosely braiding his long dark hair over one shoulder. Did they both feel it?

"I have an idea!" Tamarack called out.

"What's that?"

But instead of responding the druid got to his feet and brushed past Kiril and around the side of the tree trunk. He emerged a moment later holding two long, plain, polished staves. He tossed one to Kiril who caught it a little awkwardly, unused to the weight and balance of it. "Let's go!" Tamarack said, grabbing Kiril's wrist and pulling him out into the rain and down the path at a run.

The path was slippery and rocky and Kiril stumbled, nearly tripping several times before he managed to wrench his wrist free of Tamarack's grasp and slow down. "You're crazy!" Kiril cried as the druid never broke stride, running ahead of him and into the trees. Tamarack gave him a wicked smile over his shoulder and then disappeared from sight among the trunks. Kiril did his best to jog after him, and just whenever he thought he was hopelessly lost, Tamarack would appear from the foliage beside him, still grinning widely, before dodging off again.

Finally Kiril broke out into a small clearing where Tamarack was already sitting cross legged in the middle, his staff across his lap. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Kiril panted.

"For me," Tamarack responded, still grinning, and before he knew what was happening the druid was engaging him with the staff with lighting swiftness. Kiril barely had time to lift the staff up to block the first couple blows, the sound of wood striking wood echoing sharply among the trees. Startled he was easily pushed back, and he cried out, swearing loudly in Thalassian when Tamarack's staff cracked down across the knuckles of his right hand.

Shaking the hand from the mad stinging Kiril dropped his staff and pulled back, glaring at Tamarack. The druid laughed and made an apologetic face. "I'm sorry, thero'shan, I thought you would be better. Here I can heal it..." He reached out for Kiril's hand, but the elf drew it back with a snarl.

"I can do it myself," he snapped, turning his back on Tamarack. Strangely enough in gaining understanding about the balance, as muddled and sporadic as it was, it had somehow become easier for Kiril to tap into the Light. He seemed to feel it more easily, and it came to him with less struggle than it had before. He conjured a small healing spell, a sharp flash of soft light emanating from his fingertips and sighed in relief as the pain and swelling on his hand dissipated.

Tamarack walked around him, looking wide-eyed at Kiril's hand. "You wield the light of Elune," he said softly.

Kiril made a face. "I wield The Light. The Quel'dorei don't worship your Elune, we worship the Sun."

Tamarack shrugged. "Give it whatever name you want, thero'shan, but you wield it and I didn't know this."

"What does it matter? And would you stop calling me that?"

Tamarack gave him a confused look. "What? Thero'shan?"

"Yes!"

"But... why? It only means that you are my honored pupil..."

"No, I'm not! You haven't been teaching me anything, you've just been running me around this forest at random. There's no rhyme or reason to the things that you are 'teaching' me. I thought I was supposed to be making peace with the forest, but instead you sleep all day and then drag me out here in the pouring rain to hit me with sticks!"

"The rain has stopped-"

"That's not the point!"

Tamarack closed his mouth and pulled back slightly, looking away for a moment and then back again. "I didn't know you felt that way. I thought you had been learning quite a lot. Come then." The druid shouldered his staff and began to lead Kiril back out of the clearing. From the set of his shoulders Kiril could tell that his words had made Tamarack unhappy. But whether it was anger, sadness, or disappointment that he was feeling Kiril could not be sure. He hoped it was anger. For some reason thinking that he may have saddened or disappointed Tamarack did not sit well with Kiril.

"Where are we going?" he asked at last.

"To see the dryads you angered. You said you wanted to make peace with the forest, didn't you?" Tamarack replied.

"Oh," Kiril said. He furrowed his brows. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. The last time he had seen the fawn women they had seemed set on his demise. "You're not going to let them throw spears at me again, are you?"

Tamarack looked back over his shoulder, giving Kiril a half-smile.

Kiril caught the druid's golden gaze uncertainly and then looked away, shouldering his staff. As they drew closer to the grove Kiril found that he actually did notice signs of it's presence. Small wisp lights were becoming more common, grouping in small clusters around the tips of overhanging tree branches. Farther in elegant wooden lamps began to appear between the tree trunks. He wondered how he had missed them before. Tamarack paused beside a particularly large tree and Kiril did the same. He stood close to Tamarack, "Now what?"

"Just wait. They know we're here."

Kiril glanced up at the druid, but his gaze was intensely elsewhere. He was watching the deepness of the grove, and Kiril turned his eyes to do the same. They waited in silence. The air was crisp and wet from the rain, and it filled Kiril's lungs with a heavy coolness. After a few long minutes there was movement within the grove and from the gloom appeared a silvery-green dryad, her long ringletted golden hair falling damply around her shoulder. She regarded them for a moment and then walked forward. Tamarack bowed deeply at the waist, pressing his hands together. Kiril glanced at him and then hastily did the same.

The druid greeted the dryad in Darnassian and they spoke softly for a few moments. Kiril tried to follow along, but his limited learning from Tamarack's books did not get him very far. The fawn-like woman glanced uncertainly at Kiril several times and indicated him with a jab of her spear on more than one occasion.

Tamarack turned to him. "She says that we may enter the grove and that you can apologize, but she does not guarantee that the sisters will accept."

Kiril swallowed and nodded. "They won't kill me if they don't accept, right?"

Tamarack shrugged. "I don't think so... they know that would most likely offend me."

Kiril snorted. "I should hope so."

He followed the silvery dryad farther into the grove and soon found himself standing in a ring of the fawn-women. They didn't seem particularly hostile, though they all held spears. More they seemed curious, their short tails flicking to and fro as they pranced in place a bit nervously.

"What should I say?" he hissed to Tamarack who was standing beside him.

"Well it's an apology. I think an 'I'm sorry' may be a good place to start," he said. "Go ahead, I'll translate."

Kiril cleared his throat. "Erm... lady dryads, I came tonight to apologize for upsetting you earlier. I did not mean to enter your grove uninvited, and since that time I have learned of the graveness of my trespass. Please forgive my ignorance and believe that I am striving to replace it with understanding." Tamarack translated this quickly into Darnassian. When he was done the dryads were still looking at him owlishly as if they expected something more. "Andu... falah dor?" he said tentatively repeating the phrase he had come recognize as a druid's pledge to restore and preserve balance. The dryads tittered and Tamarack gave him a surprised look. But in the end it seemed to have the desired effect. The dryads came forward, some of them laying aside their spears and began to inspect Kiril curiously. They touched his hair, his ears, poked at his skin, making remarks to each other and, occasionally, to Tamarack. One of them asked the druid a question which made him do something Kiril had never seen before, blush. The effect was a pink coloring on his cheeks beneath the blueish gray tint of his skin that was quite attractive. Tamarack's eyes darted to Kiril and then back to the dryad and he shook his head, holding up his hand and clearly saying "no" in Darnassian. The dryad seemed confused at his answer and looked back to Kiril, tilting her head to the side and then saying something else to Tamarack that made him laugh and color the tiniest bit more.

After a time the dryads seemed to sate their curiosity and one by one wandered away back to whatever it was that they were doing before the two elves arrived. They seemed to almost completely forget about their presence in a matter of moments. "You should be welcome back here whenever you like," Tamarack said, his voice low. "As long as you wait to be invited in at the edge of the grove. After your apology they seemed quite taken with you. But we should go now."

Kiril nodded and followed Tamarack back out of the grove, walking beside him as they made their way through the forest. It was growing darker and some of the nightlife was coming out. Wolves, bears, and spiders could be heard moving through the vegetation, but when he was with Tamarack Kiril did not fear these things. The druid had a way with the animals that seemed to soothe them just by his presence. "What did that dryad say to you, the one that made you blush?" he asked after a while, giving Tamarack a smirk.

The druid balked, but did not look back at Kiril. He cleared his throat. "She asked me if you were my lover now. I told her no, obviously. She said she couldn't understand why not, that you looked healthy and passionate."

Kiril couldn't help but laugh. "Do they usually concern themselves with such things?"

Tamarack chuckled and shrugged. "I think they concern themselves with everything they can. They are gossipy and bored by nature. They love intrigue."

"Ah," Kiril said at last. They exchanged a couple furtive, awkard glances and then walked in silence for some time.

When they finally reached the base of the trail leading up to the shrine and Tamarack's home the druid finally spoke again. "I believe you have learned more than you think. You did very well tonight, I was impressed."

Kiril shrugged. "Perhaps. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful earlier. I know you're trying to help me, and teach me about your ways. I just... sometimes feel as if I am not making any progress towards leaving."

Tamarack looked at little surprised at this. "Is that truly your goal? But... where will you go?"

Kiril paused, looking down the trail at the druid who continued to walk towards him. "I don't know."

"Then why not stay?" Tamarack asked, now standing right in front of Kiril.

The young elf looked up into Tamarack's eyes, he thought he felt the druid's fingertips brush his stomach, but if they had they did not linger. "Because... I don't belong here."

Tamarack moved closer and his eyes were strangely pleading beyond their golden glow. "I am teaching you to belong here."

Kiril felt his breath shorten and his pulse quicken at the extreme proximity of Tamarack's body. He could feel the warmth from his skin, and now he was sure he felt Tamarack's fingertips on his abdomen. Closing his eyes he swallowed and for a split second he thought he might lean into him, blushing, but then reality came back to him and he remembered that they were two very different people, from two very different races and cultures. He placed his hand on Tamarack's chest and opened his eyes. "I don't think that's possible." With that he pulled away, turning back up the path to where Shando greeted him with a low growl. He did not look back at Tamarack, but he knew that the druid was standing in the pathway, watching his back.