~*~ Author's Notes ~*~

I probably got you good with the ending of the last chapter (tossed a bone out to a fan). The Druid is 16 and Jet is … immortal… and not a pedophile. I'll have to change the rating if I add lemons and right now I just want everyone who likes the story to read and enjoy, no matter what their age.

~*~ Chapter 7 ~*~

The wind moved his hair, stirred the leaves of the dead half-dead trees. Today he had put it up in a topknot, which looked both elegant and alien. Though the Druid was sure that he dressed, bathe and ate, she somehow never saw him do any of it. For a man this well kept he had a knack of carrying the appearance of indoor life wherever he went.

"Corrosa made her succubus do it." Green eyes glow mischievously, "I took a long walk. It was enough to hear the succubus' initial comments-" He choked on the rest of the sentence, remembering he was speaking to a child who knew little of such things as succubus and incubus. Or what they do for blood. One hand over his mouth still couldn't hide his semi-lecherous grin as he took in her upright form.

The little Druid hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms vigorously. "I want a bath!" Hearing her own disused voice cracking with complain was a little embarrassing, but how else to communicate this very dire need? The petulant child inside her cried out for a tub, lake, river or spray bottle. Anything with water by which she could use to purge the Warlock's taint would do.

There were spiders and fleas of iciness crawling all up and down her skin, causing all shorts of revolting shivers. "I want a bath in acid! With molten hot soap and steel wool scrub brushes!" Her whined was loud, her shivering becoming violent as her she tried to calm her body down. The knowledge that any demon that belonged to that Warlock had put its hands on her… had stripped her naked… and all while the Warlock watched.

"Oh, I cant-" She dropped into her feline form again, unable to stand the feel of the tainted dress on her skin. Skin that still somehow bore the scent of home bought heartache. It was too much to take in at that moment.

The Priest stopped smiling now, frowned as if disappointed with a child who had failed to please him. "Now, now. What is this? A fine woolen dress made by a respectable mage from Brill." When the little Druid just glared at him, not knowing where Brill was but thinking it sounded evil, he snorted, "Corrosa didn't let her succubus do anything too dirty-" Laughter was bit back when her tale lashed in irritation. Her laid-back ears and open-mouthed growl were an all around promise of revenge for this indignation.

'I'm not wearing that dress. I'll run around naked before I wear anything Horde made. Fel tainted, Elune forsaking, Goddess-less heathens…'

The Priest crossed his arms, looking both impressive and beautiful in the moonlight. This wasn't going to work. Talking to the Druid would be impossible in her feline form but she refused to be dressed in anything but her 'uncorrupted' fur till she had a bath. Rolling his eyes rather exuberantly, he smacked his lips. "Corrosa has a couple bolts of cloth if you want to see what she can make you?"

The Druid shook her head. Anything the Warlock touched was too foul to –

"You've ridden in her bag for over a week and a half now. Nothing is wrong wit you. Her tailoring is sound, untainted. The dress you have on is fine; she didn't even touch it." She heard him call her a spoiled brat without saying it.

She sulked, drooping her head between her shoulders. It wasn't like it wasn't obvious that dark and fel energies were bad. Why was he fussing at her so much? Even though she came out of her feline form exactly as she went into it, clean from the bath the succubus had given her, she still felt dirty just because it touched her.

Slowly she walked to him. She'd go on his walk, but she wouldn't wear that dress till she washed it. In lava.

Something surprising happened next. Very surprising. He grabbed her collar and, with a surge of power, forcibly transformed her into a half-grown wolfpup. She squealed and howled, death rolling out of his grip.

The smells!

The Sounds!

The BODY!

Oh, this is not right! The Druids of the Pack were cursed beasts who forsook Elune and chose to go mad rather than succumb to a demon they fought. It was forbidden!

Lunging at him, she wanted him to undo it. Her body felt weird, shaped wrong. It was too heavy in some parts, too light in others. Though not nearly as light and lithe as her feline form all her senses were going haywire. The smells!

'I want to be a cat! A cat, you hear me!" She tried to mewl and jumped at the sound that warbled out of her throat. Gagging on her own voice, she rolled on the ground, trying to scrub the wolf from her skin. "Rwowwwrrr! Akht-RWWW"

The Priest just stood with his arms crossed waiting for her fit to be over. At one point her nose was buried under the hem of his robe and rubbing against the sharp edges of his lacquer-plated travel boots. Once she realized this, she blushed furiously. How childish he must think she is? So much like a whiny prepubescent waif who never did anything new in her life. Its not like she chose to be a wolf, right? Fandral would understand…

Whining as the half-pup she was, she balanced on her hind end, wobbling a bit, begged him with both paws and eyes to explain why he had done this. 'Please, please! Don't do this to me; I just wanted a bath. That's not so much to ask.' Even now she had made up her mind stay in the forbidden canine form if the alternative was wearing the succubus' tainted dress.

Annoyed scowl, "You don't trust me at all."

'Horde, meet Alliance.'

A person such as he could not scowl for long though. He understood the limitations of her understanding even better than she. A smile bespoke understanding of her thoughts as well. "We weren't' always enemies. My people brought magic to the mortal races. And then we lost it ourselves. Ironic, yes?"

Even impressive as his admission was, she had more pressing thoughts in the front of her mind; 'Thanks for the nostalgic history lesson. Make me a cat again?' But somewhere in the back of her mind, the wisdom of a budding Druid told her to pay attention to what he was saying. Her age countered with its ever-present need to bewail her dismal situation.

The Priest inhaled the night air, seeming to blend into the shadows of the surrounding forest, "Your moonwells are glorious things. Though not powerful enough to sustain a full fledged mage, they lend power to both the Druids and the Priests of your ancient race."

'What?' The Druid new about the Moonwells, being a Druid and all…

"The Sentinels of Darnassus have been sent to deal with some of the problems that plague this land. Did you know that?"

She shakes her small not-quit-puppy head, letting herself down out of her begging posture. Glancing at her legs, she notices they are dark gray with lighter gray paws. Though just old enough to begin venturing forth into the world, she was not old enough to leave her homeland. Her village may be large and key, but she knew little of the goings on of Darnassus thousands of miles away. Or what strategic moves their leader, High Priestess Tyrande, had planned in some back wood place that belonged at once to the Blood Elves and now mostly to the Scourge.

Noticing her interest, the Priest continued softly, "I'm afraid they met with great opposition."

When she softly growled her disapproval, his tone grew sharp and unyielding. It had all been done before; it had all been done again and again. "Trying to take these lands for Darnassus when my people are trying to take them back from the Scourge, and fend off the Amani, was nigh a foolish move. Who these lands belong to is not a question; they have been Horde territory for thousands of years and will remain so as long as I live." The harsh voice softend, almost pleading for understanding, "My people have no where else to go. It is our survival we fight for."

Who these lands belonged to, the Amani Trolls or Blood Elves, the Scourge or Darnassus, was hotly debated. The Night Elves waged a personal war with the Blood Elves, blaming their predecessors for the destruction of the Well of Eternity. And the Priest had been there. What part he may or may not have played mattered little to the Druid, though. After all, its not like fighting over these decrepit lands had anything to do with her.

"Tyrande should have know better; she was never so willing to…." As an after though he added, "Else this is the work of Fandral Staghelm?"

Fandral, the leader of the Druids of Darnassus as long as anyone could remember, was slightly over nine-thousand years old, he had planted Teldrassil himself. That he would do anything 'foolish' just didn't seem possible to the Druid. Quizzically, she cocked her canine head at the Priest. 'History lesson over. Make me kitty now?'

Seeing he was getting nowhere with her as far as explaining his position in the conflict, he produced another trinket from the folds of his elaborate robes. It was a rounded orb that glowed with ancient energy. Its purpose was unknown at first. He raised it over his bowed head, closed his glowing green eyes and whispered "Keldori"

Light shot out from the orb, radiating downward and engulfed the priest. The Druid shut her eyes, covered them with a small wolfy paw, and waited for the light to subside. When she opened her eyes again, her jaw dropped open.

The Priest had become a Night Elf. It was he, she could tell, but he looked like a Night Elf! Long hair was as blue as hers, waving slightly in the wind, unbound by the former topknot. Ears had grown by almost a foot and his stature was somewhat larger. The beautiful robes had changed to chain mail and leather plates that covered him from elegant neck to deck. Behind his glowing yellow eyes she could see his fierce intelligence. A Blood Elf Priest masquerading as Nigh Elf Hunter. This should prove interesting.

Standing in front of him, several things went threw her head. Among them was where he had gotten such a trinket as could change him to look like a member of her own faction. Second was there was no way anyone would be fooled if they got close enough to him. She could certainly tell the difference between a Horde and an Alliance without having to see them. Heck, she could track them a hundred yards away threw dense brush if she were blind!

The effect, it seemed, was superficial. Or maybe it was just that she knew the feel of him and thus was not fooled?

"Follow me, pup. I'm a keldori ranger and you, my dear, are a wolfy in training. Try not to howl too much when we get there." He turned and began jogging down the deer trail, away from the catacombs.

Perplexed, the Druid followed. Her small paws were easily able to keep up with him. She had to admit, even though she was canine for the time being, that they moved with fluidity that she didn't expect. After a while, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling about, she began to understand why the Druids of the Pack had loved it enough to yield completely.

The Priest, for his part, had never jogged where the Druid could see him. All an elegant Priest did was glide about in his robes and tend to the wounded. Being free of the layers and layers of fabric and lacquered plates, he enjoyed the freedom of chain covered leather breeches by running them to their destination.

After several minutes, in which the little wolf-Druid enjoyed playing tag with the local wildlife, they looped up and down the dead hills and valleys around them. The pain of the land gradually subsided as they neared their destination. The grass had grown back a lush green and trees were flourishing in gold and whites. If this was any indication, the Druid though, of what this land used to look like then… it must have been beautiful…

With all her heart she wished it could be that beautiful again. She understood the barely repressed sorrow the Priest had spoken of before. This had been his home when all of it was alive and thriving? Now none of it was untainted except this one area. Finally the Druid understood what the Priest had been saying.

In the end, they wanted the same thing – for this land to be restored. Afterwards they could fight over who gets to live on it.

The Priest stopped suddenly, putting his hand out to stop the Druid. It was so very odd seeing him without his robes. Even though it wasn't him she was seeing, but a Night Elf like herself. Obediently she went to his side, pretending to be the pet-in-training as instructed.

That's when she saw it on the hill, standing proudly like a beacon of hope for this land. The rocks of the structure where white as snow, encircling the pool of brightly glowing water. Dragonflies danced across the surface, infused with magical energies. In front of the steps leading into the sacred waters stood the Torii gate. It marked the symbolic transition between the sacred and the profane. Once walking threw that gate, you were on holy ground.

'Oh, Elune…! You do love me.'

A moonwell.

The Druid gave a whoof of approval but stayed by the Priest's side, fiercely determination not to ruin whatever good-will project he was undertaking in her favor. Risking his upset with foolish overexcited behavior wasn't something she wanted to do. The situation was delicate.

The Priest was quiet for a moment, eyes glowing in the manor saying he was taking some kind of mental survey. When he did this it usually lead to killed or healed. Once finished, he knelt down next to her and moved took her chin into his warm palm.

"Understand me." His voice was deeper, though still cultured, "You have 15 min. No more and no less. I don't care what you find up on top of that hill; you will come back in 15 min or I will come get you. And we don't want that." There was warning in his voice, a truth of what would happen if she made him chase her.

She didn't understand until he had slipped his fingers under the collar and snapped it open. Backing up in a furry of fur, she shifted immediately into her Dishu form and ran out of range. Turning, she studied him. He stood, holding the collar reverently in one hand, her hearthstone in another.

Crap. So running up the hill out of eyesight and hearthing back to Auberdine wasn't going to work…

"Fifteen minutes." He reminded her, settling himself on the grass to wait, "Make it snappy."

All her options weighed down on her. Run? No, he would summon his mount and chase her. Fight? He'd kill her with a swift backhand; the energies in his gloves alone would do the job without him directing it. Call for help…? Yes, maybe she could call for help!

Turning, she scrambled up the hill towards the moonwell. As much as she wanted to dive into the sacred water and wash away the stench of the fel taint all over her, she needed to warn the Sentinels that surely must be guarding the well.

But upon arriving at the top of the hill, she discovered a shocking truth.