Amandil stood back from the bookshelf and held a thumb to her chin. No matter how she arranged the meager amount of books she'd brought in her backpack, she just couldn't decide whether they were better arranged alphabetically by author name or by subject matter. For such a small collection, one would have thought that the decision would be an easy one, but no - after having spent the better part of the hour since she'd been awake deciding, she still wasn't satisfied.

She'd only managed to fit ten titles of varying sizes in her backpack and saddlebag. On purpose, she'd chosen as diverse an array of subjects as she possibly could. Seeing as how long her father had spent alone, she figured he'd appreciate being able to learn about new things. In particular, an almanac of recent history had piqued his interest the moment she'd shown it to him. The largest book she'd brought, it detailed all that had occurred since the Third War, which was of vital importance to him seeing as how he hadn't seen Lilith since their people's immortality had been lost, and only recognized the fact because he'd noticed all the grey hairs that had been popping up in his scalp and stubble. How exactly he'd noticed without eyes was beyond her, and the topic of his class and his troubles was swept aside. All that mattered was that they were together for a time, and Amandil made it her job to keep him as comfortable as possible.

Her mother, of course, was an expert at that. Since she'd spent ten millennia as a domestic worker, her prowess in the field of home economics was unparalleled. She might not know how to fling a glaive, but she could remove any spot from clothing and add flavor to any formerly bland dish, all without expending any effort. Just as she spoiled Amandil to the point where it became smothering, Vindra had tried to prevent Faraldor from doing anything for himself. Despite his independence, he gave up on trying to dissuade her early on, acquiescing to her insistence much faster than Amandil would have. Loneliness could do that to even the most stalwart of people, and seeing her parents' relationship - which was lopsided in the view of Amandil's matriarchal brain - was as fascinating as it was cute.

Speaking of the angel, Amandil's ears pricked up as she heard the patter of light footsteps coming down the ramp. The moon hadn't even risen yet, which had been Amandil's personal time for the past few days. It had also been the alone time for her parents, and she'd taken to patrolling the area in panther form in the early evening. Her mother's early rousal from bed was a bit odd.

Wearing one of her father's shirts as pajamas and royally creeping her out by doing so, Vindra rubbed her eyes and yawned as she approached Amandil. "Good morning, sweetie," her mother said while tucking her hair behind her ears for her. "They look better organized by author name."

Amandil's eyebrows shot up in a sharp arch. "How did you know what I was thinking?" she asked in awe.

Ignoring her daughter's expression and walking over to the corner used as a rudimentary kitchen, Vindra began to kindle some flame for the cauldron her father kept that was probably as old as the druidess herself. "I raised you," Vindra replied in the closest tone to a taunt that was likely capable for her. Not even looking back, she began to prepare the bit of coffee grounds that they'd brought with them.

Smiling at her mother's pleasant shift in attitude, Amandil went back to straightening up the drab bottom floor and rearranging the few personal items her father actually owned. "You sure did," she mumbled absentmindedly, not really giving the words any thought.

When Vindra's rhythmic stirring of the coffee slowed down, Amandil knew that there was something on her mind. Just as mother knew daughter from raising her, daughter knew mother from being raised. "What is it?" she asked knowingly.

Vindra continued preparing the coffee, and only spoke after a minute or so of silence. "Mandy, dear, there's something that I need to talk to you about," she said ominously. Since her mother's view of 'ominous' was often a bit subdued, Amandil didn't feel any sense of anxiety from the vagueness.

"Well obviously. What's up?"

Her mother's pace while finishing the drinks slowed down considerably, as if she was quite apprehensive regarding what she was about to say. "You know I always love you no matter what, right?"

Amandil didn't need any cue beyond that; she knew her mother too well. "I honestly want you to stay here with dad," she said with a wry smile.

"I know that you need me to guide you through life's hurdles; truly, I do understand, but sometimes situations change, which is what I wanted to talk to you about."

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, Amandil noticed that her mother was rather tense. "Uh...mom, did you hear what I said? I kind of figured out that you want to stay here, and I'm happy for you."

Seeming to ignore her, Vindra continued through the obviously prepared monologue. "There comes a time in every person's life where they need to consider living on their own, you know, independent."

"Mom, I'm literally a few sentences ahead of you. Like, I already guessed exactly..." She paused, realizing that this talk was more for her mother than herself. Vindra's hands were shaky again as she poured the coffee into three ancient cups, and the thought that her mother had heard exactly what she'd said and was simply in denial again made her feel bad. "What were you saying, mom?"

"Well, what I'm getting at is that you're getting older now, and you're almost to the point where you can make your own decisions." Amandil didn't know whether to be amused or offended by her mother's view of her, but held her tongue as Vindra poured her heart out. "I would never ever want you to be out of my life, but for a young woman blossoming into adulthood, a bit of time to yourself might do you some good."

I've been telling you that for how many centuries now? Amandil thought to herself, pursing her lips not to laugh. It wouldn't be a mocking or rude laugh in the least, but she still felt that her mother deserved to have her feelings validated. Smothering or not, Amandil couldn't have been luckier to have her considering the family's situation.

"Is that so?" she asked.

"Yes, it really is," her mother replied, finally answering her directly. "That's why I think I should tell you that I plan on taking a vacation here. With your father. Really, the situation has become safe in the sense that as long as he stays in this area, nobody ever notices his presence. And since I lived in Serenity for so long without every venturing outside, unlike you, I'm comfortable remaining in a small space."

No longer able to contain herself, Amandil breathed a tremendous sigh of relief for more reasons than one. For her mother being bold enough to let herself be happy, for her father to no longer be alone, for herself to be able to live a grownup life. And knowing that she could safely visit her parents at any time with Viniel's help meant that, in Amandil's eyes, this wasn't goodbye at all.

"So are you and dad officially getting...like, married finally?" she asked, feigning innocence. "I won't be a bastard anymore?"

"Mandy, language."

You've got to be kidding... "Sorry, mom."

"I forgive you. Anyway, this might be good for all of us. Moonglade is a safe place, and you'll have plenty of extra time to study. And since I'm not legally registered as a worker, nobody will take notice that I've left. Honestly, I think this will be for the best."

Practically bouncing with glee, Amandil walked across the room and gave her mother a hug, more out of thanks for the breathing room than any sort of melancholy. In fact, she couldn't feel happier for them all; she would have hated to leave her father alone again at the end of her four day trip.

"Thank you for trusting me, mom."

"Well, perhaps it's about time."

Heavier footsteps from upstairs heralded the approached of a somewhat changed man. Prior to Vindra's arrival, Amandil had known her father as the paranoid type who stepped so lightly that she couldn't even hear his approach inside the house. After the two of them arrived, however, and their perfectly imperfect family life began, he'd relaxed a little bit. Not to the point where she could make dad jokes about her experiences when with a group of her friends, but sufficient that he did finally seem like a stereotypical 'dad.'

"Good evening," he mumbled, half asleep while Vindra mouth kissed him. Amandil cringed and tried to find something to do by the breakfast table, weirded out by the bizarre combination of cuteness and grossness.

"Evening, dad," Amandil replied while she organized their Darnassian bleu cheese and various fruit that grew naturally around the grove. Her parents moved to sit down, and she brought over the breakfast and coffee to them, almost feeling like a proper daughter for once instead of a perennial child.

The three of them ate and sipped coffee pleasantly for a good while, enjoying their time as they chatted about lighter topics. Being their third day in, their time hadn't yet come to an end - or, to be more exact, Amandil's time there. The revelation that her parents would actually be together again warmed her heart even more than the closure of finally having met her father. Though their banter was much more tame than hers, she still liked to listen to the two of them, watching intently at the way they both became more animated (for people so many millennia old) when she fell quiet and observed.

It was her father who became disturbed first. Over the course of their conversation, Amandil noticed every so subtly how his left ear began to twitch. Vindra was oblivious, but Amandil had been a huntress for centuries; even when not shifted into the panther form granted to her by her newly chosen class, her senses were sharp. Over the course of maybe half a minute, Faraldor's upper lip stiffened, the corners of his mouth losing the comfortable looseness they'd held for the past few days of bliss.

Amandil could slowly feel the pores on the back of her neck itching, her feeling of being watched rapidly increasing. Vindra was saying something about growing squash in the yard, her words only stayed by the increasingly tense clench of Faraldor's fists on his lap.

"Honey? What's wrong?"

The falling of many paws on the ground came first. Deep and sonorous, the barely audible sound vibrated up through the bottom of the treehouse, tickling the soles of Amandil's feet in a way that a human or orc wouldn't have noticed. The surface of her unfinished coffee roiled, finally catching Vindra's eye as she stopped talking.

Then the voices started. Nightsabre growls at first, bouncing off of the trees outside and signaling at least eight of the big cats plus a bear. The sound of sentinels ululating followed, though the battle cries died down as the outriders approached, replaced by the sound of many paws scuffing to a stop and another druid shapeshifting outside. Before Vindra could even start to fret about the commotion, Faraldor had already leapt across the room and pulled an set of iron rods from the floor, sliding them into conveniently placed compartments around the edge of the unusually heavy door. It seemed that his paranoia about security was finally being confirmed.

"What's happen mmmpphhh," Vindra mumbled, cut off when Amandil clamped her hand over her mother's mouth.

Slinking like a shadow, her father waved for both of them to follow him upstairs. As they crept up the ramp and crawled across the floor to the window facing the front yard, they could already hear the sound of a voice so familiar that it nearly caused Amandil's previously warmed heart to freeze solid.

"Attention!" came the wheezy, nasally voice of a certain silver haired outrider that had once introduced herself as the quartermistress of a guild seeking recognition. "Line up, aspirant heroines and heroes of the the Kaldorei!"

"Who is mmph."

"Mom!" Amandil hushed out at her mother, for once not feeling guilty about disrespecting her parent.

Inch by inch, the three of them crawled over to the walls on either side of the window, leaning against it so they could better hear the scene unfolding. Based on breathing patterns, Amandil could sense six nightsabres and eight night elves, six of them female and two of them male. Scenarios flashed through her mind as she remembered the rowdy sentinels she'd seen at the Oaken Glade, the harassment she'd deflected from the silver haired quartermistress outside, the warning from her cousin...

...oh no.

All her life, Amandil had lived with her mother in a grove of only twenty five women. They were each other's sisters in all but blood, supporting each other in - what they'd thought at the time to be - an eternal quest to forever protect nature until the Burning Legion returned to their planet. They lived communally despite personality differences, sharing everything until the day that their servitude to nature ended with the sacrifice of the World Tree to defeat Archimonde. After that, many of them had scattered, their village overpopulated by outlanders and their traditional lifestyle shattered by modernity. Most of them had tried to stay in touch one way or another. All but a few.

And the voice of the guild leader outside...the one that Lilith had warned her about...was most definitely one of those few.

"Captain Gwynneth, the profligate a were sighted harvesting fruit just yesterday! It seems that the lodge tender's confession was accurate!"

No...

...no...

...Amandil's heart beat irregularly, and her mother's surely did as well, as revelation dawned on them. Of all the twenty five Serenity originals, only one of them had ever been punished for instigating discord among the ranks of their patrols and picking fights with the others. In that poisonous woman's seven thousand year life, she was by far the least liked of all their shield sisters, and was the only one whose departure from the grove hadn't been mourned. Vindra's eyes widened as she realized who it was, just as Faraldor's eyebrows arched beneath his blindfold at the revelation of his niece being forced into a confession.

Ragged breathing and a few whimpers rang out as a body, heretofore unnoticed by Amandil, was tossed to the dirt. A sadly familiar voice cried out as an armored boot met a ribcage, and Faraldor silently snarled, furious in his inability to intervene with so many opponents outside.

Intentionally heavy footsteps echoed and medals jingled as one of the aggressors stepped ahead of the others. A voice that Amandil had almost blotted out of her mind grated on her ears, the voice forced to be monotone as if the speaker thought she sounded noble and dignified that way.

"She talked, Vindra; they always talk," came the anxiety inducing voice of Gwynneth, the shame of Serenity. Lilith cried out again at the sound of a gauntlet slapping the back of a head, and Faraldor's entire body tensed up as if he was ready to perform a suicide dive on to their aggressors right then and there. "I have to hand it to her...she really tried to hold out. I've seen mountain giants crack under less pressure. But...after a few beatings, it was the threat of losing her other ear that broke her. We know about you and this...this...this animal that you're out here with. You shouldn't have allowed so much back and forth movement in so short a period of time."

"We have to do something!" Amandil whispered to her father.

"Wait," he whispered in reply.

Metal scraped on the ground and an injured person struggled as Gwynneth sounded like she was grabbing somebody. "That's right, isn't it, Lilith? You and your little cousin Mandy," she said with a derisive sneer, "are guilty of aiding and abetting a fugitive. A murderer. Vindra's loverboy." Another thud rang out as Gwynneth ostensibly dropped Lilith to the ground, and by the sound of her voice, she was facing the window again. "It's over; we know you're there. Show yourselves. We'll carry out a summary execution of the heretic now, but for you two, and happy little Lilly here, we're prepared to accept your surrender."

Unable to stand it any longer, Faraldor stood up, earning a round of jeers from the people downstairs. Amandil was at her father's side, blocking her mother from few as she looked over their attackers. The same quartermistress, four henchwomen, four snarling sabres and two bear druids who looked so pissed off that they might as well have been oversized purple dwarves - they all formed a semi circle out front. Standing before them all was the real traitor herself, decked out like a military official despite the fact that she was simply leading around an unapproved guild. With a face like she was sucking on a lemon, Gwynneth stood with her arms folded behind her back, her guild tabard splattered in Lilith's blood.

"Lilith!" Amandil cried, losing her composure when she saw the state of her cousin.

Her eyes swollen shut, Lilith was battered and bruised, her clothing torn and a clump of her hair pulled out. What was most horrifying, however, was her left ear...or, to be accurate, half of an ear. It was a smooth, clean cut as if performed surgically, scraping at Amandil's very soul as she wondered what her long lost cousin had endured for their sakes.

"Leave us alone, all of us!" Vindra screamed at Gwynneth as she pushed her way to the windowsill. "We're just trying to live our lives, we aren't hurting anybody!"

As if her scowl couldn't grow any more pronounced, Gwynneth almost seemed to flex the muscles of her face to display an over the top amount of contempt. "Disrespect the law and you disrespect us aw," she replied tersely, mispronouncing the word 'all' in an idiotic attempt to sound poetic.

"Gwynn...for...for seven millennia, I was your sister in all but blood! Our sacred grove was about family, about trust...please, don't do this! We always stood by each other-"

In the middle of Vindra's sentence, Gwynneth turned away and waved her hand so dismissively that to even label the gesture as an insult would be granting it more interest than it bore. In the rudest way possible, she brushed Vindra's plea away, cutting the conversation short as she walked among her followers and ignored the family behind her.

"WAR is recruiting!" Gwynneth said to the amassed fighters in an overdone dialect as archaic as the rune on her tabard. "Since these ingrates reject our mercy, then your quest for membership is clear: remove them from existence. Clean this mess up and report back at the village; whoever strikes a killing blow makes officer." Giving one last malicious glance at Lilith, Gwynneth paused before mounting her own sabre alongside that of her quartermistress. "Leave this one alive; let her watch so she can warn others of what happens to our enemies."

Vindra only gave a few token protests as her neighbor of seven thousand years mounted alongside the quartermistress and rode away, leaving their cronies to perform their dirty work. Faraldor just remained silent with rage, obviously the parent whom Amandil had inherited it from as she stared down the group of potential recruits for Gwynneth's guild laugh, crack their knuckles and make rude gestures.

"I'm sorry," Lilith whimpered into the grass while coughing up blood.