When I was younger, and first putting this story together, I had a very specific idea about what caused Sythius's exile. What he did to earn disdain from his people. The thing is, I no longer stand by the whole event, and so when approaching this section, I was disinclined to make reference to the old idea even though this story is … still quite old, and if I ever do come back to it I intend to start over.

Thankfully, I believe I've been quite vague enough in the specifics that it wasn't that hard to kind of skirt the issue.

.

"I kin see it in ye, milady. Ye dunnae want t' be doing this."

Anathala was settling her son comfortably in the clearing, while his essence did battle in the Dream. She turned to face the shaman, one eyebrow arching over one crystalline eye, and did not respond with words. Big Olrec was wiping Kin's brow with a damp cloth.

Eventually Anathala said: "I do not. If word reaches Ashenvale or, fates forfend, Darnassus . . . suffice to say I do not know whether the Argent Dawn will be willing to defend their newest recruit from the wrath that may descend upon him." She paused. "Has he spoken to you of his exile?"

Olrec frowned. "Nay," he admitted. "Lad's only made it clear he is exiled. Never seems t' bother him much, all told. If yer tone tells me anything, milady, then what he done t' get exiled in th' first place has got t' be . . . hm." He cleared his throat, then gestured to Kayli. "Way she's danced 'round it, I kin only guess." His gaze turned steely. "Who'd the boy kill?"

Anathala met the dwarf's gaze, and her lips twitched. "The specifics are best left in shadows, good shaman. But you have enough of it. Some of our elders wished to make an example of him, trade like for like. I convinced my fellows, by virtue of my name and station, to remove him to exile. It is only by my word that my people do not send Elune's own after him. If they find not only that I have met with him, even on such neutral ground as this, especially given that I am doing favors of such a . . ." she hesitated, ". . . politically delicate and controversial nature, at his behest, then I can only wonder whether I will be able to stop them from rescinding their previous judgment and simply be done with him. A wound which has only just begun to close after these long decades will split open like an overripe peach."

Olrec's gaze softened. "This is nae matter of yer reputation. Ye be a mother, doin' what's best fer yer boy. I'll not begrudge ye. But know this, milady: whatever crime he's committed, Sythius o' the Claw done well enough t' gain a reputation with us. And the Dawn do stand up fer its own. If'n a man 'r woman faces the livin' dead, we'll arm 'em and, more important, we'll stand by 'em."

Anathala's smile returned, bright and lovely; but there was still sadness there. She stroked back her son's deep blue hair. "I hope you speak true," she said. "Word of the Argent Dawn reach us even here, every so often, when emissaries are dispatched seeking aid or knowledge. There have been whispers of his name. It's true, then? My boy has been accepted by the spirit of the bear?"

Sylvanne and Kayli, on whom her gaze flitted for a moment, nodded in sequence. "We've seen it, Madam," said Kayli. "There's no mistaking it. The young master is the very image of Ursoc himself."

"Young master," Anathala repeated, bemused.

They all were trying to keep the mood light, even cheerful, and not the least reason being that agitation in a mission as delicate as this was often a double-, razor-edged blade. It stood a chance of heightening one's aptitude through focus, but it could just as easily ruin the entire operation through nerves. Anathala, clearly a master at her work, needed no such crutch to help her focus, and so she strove to keep the group calm.

Kayli turned her eyes downward, clearly embarrassed.

Anathala glanced in her daughter's direction. "You've told her, Sylvanne?"

"I have said nothing specific," Sylvanne replied, bristling, "but let it be known that Hann'ore should ne'er be treated like some common thief. His exile is the only true crime he has ever been involved in."

"I hope you do not mean to say you've said such things to your father," the druidess pressed. "You don't mean to deny that Sythius killed a man, do you?"

"You of all people should know killing in and of itself is no evil," Sylvanne said, glaring hotly. "I do not deny the will of our people has fallen upon this side of things, and I do not intend to dishonor our family," this she spat like a curse, "but I have no intention of pretending I approve."

"Perhaps," Olrec said, holding up a hand as Anathala made to respond, "'twould be best t' leave this be fer now. Now's no time fer squabbles an' talk of death. The boy's riskin' his fool neck t' save a babe. Ought'n we honor that?"

Anathala found her smile again. ". . . Of course," she said.

"Yes," Sylvanne agreed, rather quickly. "You are right. Absolutely."

"Also," Olrec said, "if ye would, this good shaman business brings me age t' focus in a way I like not. Also, I'm nae better 'n anybody here, much less th' best shaman ye could've called. Call me 'Big Olrec,' if ye would. Ever'body does."

Anathala nodded. "As you wish, Big Olrec. I would be obliged if you used my name as well, then. I am gifted with quite enough 'my ladies' from my lord husband, if you please."

Olrec laughed. His eyes sparkled, and he nodded. "Aye, Anathala. So I will."