The two approached Ban'ethil Hollow, carefully making their way down from the hill that led up to the path they'd been walking on. Colin had recounted to her what Teronis had told him about the ley lines being "rough", which Talonkai had also explained to her during their meeting.
"Furbolgs are simple beings," Kyra explained as the two made their way further, "Which isn't to say they're any lesser than any other species. However, the more simple beings become, the more in-tune with the finer points of the world they seem to be, also. Ley lines, for instance, can cause them to become agitated simply because they're so tuned into their power."
Colin nodded, "I truly am admiring of the way you choose coexistence over culling them off."
Kyra grinned, "On the mainland, we wouldn't be as lenient. Teldrassil, however, belongs as much to the dragonflight as it does to us, if not more. Far be it from us to dictate who lives or dies on this crown of the earth. The grellkin are borderline dangerous, but even then, we allow them the same rights to live here as the dragonflight has given us."
As she finished, Colin finally noticed a group of bear-like humanoids walking around confusedly, as though not knowing which way was straight. He figured that this was part of the whole ley line thing, but also thought it might have just been what the "simple" creatures did. Sure enough, as they approached, Kyra only nodded to herself, knowingly, as though pleased with their activity.
They walked among the pack of furbolg, with Colin even bumping his shoulder into one on accident, they were so clustered together. Its coarse fur sent a shock through to the base of his skull, the beast hardly reacting to the contact.
"Well, they do seem fine," Kyra noted to herself, "But we need to go into their den, just to make sure."
Colin nodded affirmatively, following along as Kyra thought aloud, "We'll need to count them on the way out."
"Twenty-eight," Colin noted, as though it was the easiest thing to remember.
His leader turned to him questioningly, so he shrugged in reply, "My memory isn't photographic, but I'm often on the run, so I tend to remember scenes so that I can draw them later on. These things are kind of cute, though I don't think we have them 'cross the Maelstrom."
Kyra nodded in understanding as the two walked down the long and winding corridor. Colin could feel the humidity building as they descended, his clothing becoming more and more restraining in the heat. He could tell that there were many, many more of these creatures, simply by the temperature.
While Kyra seemed firm in this venture, she turned to warn her companion, "Be careful. Just because the ones on the surface were fine doesn't mean anything to the ones down here."
"Alright," Colin replied, the two entering the main area, though he couldn't see any sign of any furbolgs.
"Even if they've turned feral, it's no big deal," Kyra explained, comfortingly, "The fact that I'm bringing you along can attest to that."
Colin grinned, "Even if I don't fight?"
"Precisely," Kyra finished as they stopped atop a platform held up in the air by some massive roots coming from the ceiling.
"Well, they must be hibernating," she guessed, looking around, "If they were feral, we'd have known by now. Let's head on out."
Colin nodded, though he paused as he turned to leave, "Hold on."
Kyra followed his gaze, which was fixed on the bottom floor, toward a particularly dark corner. As soon as her body allowed, Kyra's eyes shot open and she jumped down from the platform, two stories up, landing on her feet and running toward what happened to be a body.
"Dalvyn!" she shouted, examining his body as she quickly realized that he was dead.
Not nearly as agile, Colin had left his spot to find his way down to where Kyra was, but he quickly noticed a pair of furbolgs coming his way. He quickly crouched down into a corner, pulling his hood over his head to appear to be some boulder, or at least, that was the idea. He knew nothing if the creatures, but they didn't seem to be the brightest beings ever.
He heard the heavy pads of their feet clump past him, allowing him a sigh of relief as he carefully left his refuge. They had gone up to where he'd last stood with his host, so he had little choice but to continue descending to where she'd gone. Slowly checking around corners, Colin made his way down, but as he eventually came across the body of the elf from earlier, the realization that the two of them were separated finally hit him.
Cursing under his breath, he knew that she's come back for this person at some point, so he crawled into one of the shallow holes that had been carved into the walls, making sure his view was on the entry way.
As he sat there, he began sweating from the humidity, and he rapidly pulled at his collar to try and find some air circulation, but it was no use. He gasped for some fresh air, but as he adjusted his body, he gasped for a different reason: fear. His hand had grasped a tuft of fur, his eyes locking onto an open pair of deep pupils from the beast he'd crawled in with.
For a moment, the furbolg and Colin stared back at one another, shocked, but Colin gave a quick, yet nervous, chuckle as he smiled, waving his hand, "Hello there…"
The furbolg angrily roared, swinging its arms, catching Colin in the face before knocking him out into the larger area. He looked up to see a group of them, having been summoned by the ruckus, and he groaned, having recalled a certain Dwarven story from his past that could have been similar to this.
Colin sat anxiously in his makeshift jail, made up of driftwood. He'd immediately known that simply falling into the bars would have ensured his escape, but the flimsy prison wasn't keeping him here, it was the two furbolg jailers who sat there, aimlessly staring into space. He had tried to sit and do something productive, but he was too riled up and thinking about Kyra's predicament.
Be didn't have to worry for long, as Kyra suddenly appeared, her wrists and ankles tied to a pole that two furbolgs had carried the ends of. Colin quickly noticed them upon hearing the unmistakable sound of loud Elven curse words. He was on a higher platform, but wasn't obstructed from her view.
"Kyra!" he shouted.
She suddenly stopped yelling and looked around, unable to find her guest, "Colin?! Where are you?!"
"Up here! I don't think we're in any danger; I think were being saved for something. At least, I am."
Kyra shot a glance up to a perch which wasn't where Colin was, "Of course we are. They're going to use me as trade bait to get something in return."
Colin quickly noted that she had failed to explain his ultimate destination, though he could quickly infer that it wasn't good. Despite her fate being reasonably harmless, she was still furiously trying to break free.
"So, uh, what about me?"
Kyra's head went limp for a bit, hanging down toward the ground, almost in thought, before he answered, "Well, they don't eat elves."
Colin's eyes opened wider than he could have ever remembered, though it shouldn't have come as much of a shock. He'd been threatened by impalement, evisceration, and even some maiming by a particularly cruel Tauren druid, but being eaten was a particularly common prospect for him by this point in his life.
To this end, given what he knew about this creatures, Colin quickly rummaged through his bag, fondling around for a certain jar of salve he carried with him. He carefully dipped his hand into the jar, doing his best to hide his disgust. He whistled shrilly, catching his jailer's attention, and offered his hand out from behind the bars.
"Mmm, smells tasty, eh?" Colin goaded, "Want a sample?"
The furbolg examined his hand carefully, definitely admiring of the delicious stench of rotten meat, and it leaned over to lick Colin's hand, which, again, forced him to hide his disgust. Within a second of the taste, the furbolg pulled back, angrily swiping at its tongue to remove the salve. Colin grinned at his plan's working, though the fear returned when the two furbolgs stomped over and picked his cage up.
They carried it down toward the level that Kyra had been on, and Colin finally felt a wave of comfort upon seeing her in the same room as him, though her face held a look of dread.
"Kyra!" he shouted, "They don't want to eat me anymore!"
She stared at him, as though furious at such an idea, "Well, it's not much better here."
Colin looked around as the two brutes dropped his cage beside Kyra, who was lying down on the ground, still tied up to the pole. He noticed a pile of dead carcasses, most of them having been brutally mauled to death in vicious attempts at a meal.
"Okay," Colin spoke, matter-of-factly.
Kyra snorted angrily, "Yeah, I don't think I'll be bait; at least not for reading, anyway."
Colin took solace in the fact that the two furbolgs had left and they were the only two in the cavern. He wiped off his hand on some cloth nearby and kicked out some of the wooden bars that had held him imprisoned.
"Guess they didn't know whether or not that was enough," Kyra spoke, "Being a new creature has its advantages."
Colin grinned as he got to work on the knots holding Kyra in place, "This isn't my first rodeo; I've been in worse situations with brighter beings before."
He'd started on her ankles, and as he'd fished out the knot, he scooted up to her hands and went to work on freeing them. He was surprised by how her hands felt whenever he accidentally made contact with them. They were incredibly soft, and even in the darkness, her pinkish skin appeared particularly rosy. He might have even taken longer than needed, just to have another accident or two.
Finally freed, Kyra stood up and immediately grasped the back of Colin's collar, making her way to the entry way, "You're my responsibility, and I'm not about to have you die here."
He couldn't help but grin, noticing how seriously she was taking this, as though she were a Silverwing on a dangerous reconnaissance mission deep in the forests of Ashenvale. The two carefully made their way up the Burrow, Kyra quickly giving up on her weapons, which had been taken from her.
"So you don't fight?" she inquired, quietly.
Colin replied, almost immediately, "Just because I don't want to doesn't mean I can't, or won't. You have my whole word; if our lives are at stake, I've got your back."
Kyra nodded, rather surprised at the answer, but she went ahead and picked up a random piece of bark that was lying on the ground, handing it back to Colin. He took it and stared at it pithily, throwing it back over his shoulder to discard the 'weapon'.
Sure enough, the two made it out of the Burrow, carefully avoiding the cluster of furbolgs that littered the area just outside, not knowing if they'd be as mindless as when they'd arrived. As soon as they were free, Kyra immediately sped up her pace, as though forgetting she had a companion with her.
"I need to get word to Dolanaar," she spoke urgently, "I don't know why Dalvyn was down there, but I check on the furbolgs every fortnight, so it may or may not be recent."
Colin followed along, hurriedly, but was left alone as soon as the small town came into view, as though Kyra knew he could find his way back at that point. He assuredly did as such, finding his way to the inn and taking a seat. There was a collection of ornate bows beside him, some of them with glistening metallic panels on them, which allowed him a chance to see his bruised face.
"Killer right hook," he groaned, rubbing his cheek.
He sat there for a few moments before hearing the unmistakable voice if a woman above him, getting his attention as he peered upward. There stood a young night elf lady, who was obviously a priestess of some sort, looking down at him with concern.
She spoke again, still in Darnassian, "[Are you alright, child?]"
Colin only stared blankly at her, until she caught on, "My apologies. I seldom practice the tongue on our allies. Are you alright?"
Nodding his head, Colin answered, "Oh, yes; thank you."
She stared down at him, not moving, and once Colin lowered his head, she softly lifted it back up with her hand, examining his bruise. Immediately entranced by her glittering eyes, Colin didn't instantly move his head once her hand left his face.
"Come," she mentioned, "Let's have you cleansed by the waters of Elune."
Colin followed along, but quickly noticed that they were headed toward a moonwell, "I'm not sure I'm supposed to be."
The priestess spoke softly, but it still sounded as though she was chiding her follower, "Elune is able to help whomever needs her help. Our mother cares for all life, even those not borne of Cenarius."
Colin didn't reply to this, only following along silently, though with an unmistakably downtrodden cantor. She led him to the moon well and directed him to sit down on its edge. She held the back of his neck as she lowered him just over the still water, her other hand reaching into the shallow depths. She raised her hand out and gently laid it against Colin's cheeks, watching his stoic face stare off into the distance.
She held his cheek for a few moments before removing her hand and staring down at his face. He looked over toward her, knowing instantly that whatever she was doing hadn't worked. She gently lifted him up from the moonwell and pulled out a cloth to wipe off her hand.
"Elune offers her hand to help, yet you refuse it," she spoke, almost in a whisper.
Colin stared off into the abyss, distantly, not able to find a reply. The whole ritual had left him rather upset, though he hid it underneath his silent demeanor.
"I truly hope you find the voice of Elune, my child," the woman spoke, "I can feel a great deal of pain within you. Pain that only the gods can mend, perhaps. If that is the case, Teldrassil is the best place for you, for there is no closer to the spirit of our mother."
Colin still didn't reply, nor did he move as the priestess turned to take her leave. He felt of his cheek, finding his skin to still be tender, before standing up and silently making his way back to where he had originally been stationed.
"Waste of time…" he muttered to himself, quietly.