Merell took a moment to pause before the Moonwell in Zangermarsh
listening to the spirits as they greeted her. She had been out hunting
with Dakana and Yig once more late into the moon's noon hour. As she
often did as she came to the Moonwell's across the world Merell spoke
to her sister, taken first in the slaughter that had made Merell and
Orphan.

"Good evening little one." Merell's voice crooned to the pool before
her. As many times before Nightbloom answered. "Good evening Merell."

And so the hours were passed by the pool speaking with the spirit of
her dead sister, her voice most strong by the Moonwell's of the world.
Merell told stories of the new family she had met, the Tribe and
talked of the various members to her little sister's spirit.

Of one Pack Mate there were many stories, Dakana. The warrior spirit
in the girls body. Of near death experiences, laughter and tears
Merell told of Dakana and her travels to her sister.

"I would have liked to have known this Dakana, Elder Sib." her voice
drifted from the Moonwell. " I think she is your sister now, and mine
too in a way."

Time in the Dream had made Nightbloom wiser than ever she should have
been. Merell came to think of Moonwells as portols to the Dream, where
the sprits of the Ancestors, of the world and universe could be heard
if you listened correctly.

Days would pass and Merell would find herself yet again telling more
stories of Dakana to her sister, then the weeks flew by, the months
and Dakana and Merell grew in power together. All that was shared was
related to the voice of her sister through the Moonwell's door.

"Nightbloom" Merell paused looking to the surface of the Moonwell
imagining her sister's face. "I have some what I need to ask you
about." Merell blew air out of her nose and mouth and shook her head.
"I want to adopt Dakana as my sister. She would be your sister too,
and for this I need your blessing."

The pool's surface was quiet for a long time when suddenly color
flared in it's surface, the pool a swirl of purple, blue and green.
Arcs of color and liquid jumped through the pool like happy birds
swooping into a full pond.

Nightbloom's voice spoke as the colors faded "It has taken you this
long to see the bond you share? I say it's about time Elder Sib, and I
am happy for you."

Tears filled Merell's eyes as she felt the energy from the Moonwell
rise up and envelop her squeezing tightly as if her sisters arms were
around her once more in the flesh.

"Go to her Merell, bring her to the clan and to me. I want to meet my
new sister."

Knuckling tears from her eyes Merell smiled and took form of the swift
hawk and few out to find Dakana and ask her a very important question.

Merell met with the robed man benieth one of the Sha'tar of Shattrath
city and was walking along with his familiar. He told a story of how a
great many blood elves have come to the city seemingly to do battle as
directed by Prince Kael'thas yet as one laid down their arms and threw
themselves upon the mercy of the Sha'tar. Merell at once saw sence in
the furitiveness of the Scryer folk in the city. Merell remained
suspicious of such a powerful holy order of Aldor. The poor world had
enough problems with the Burning Legions without adding religious
intollerance as well.

In her time spent with the Scryers she fell in love with the libraries
there, the instructors. Especially the ones who taught her how to
bless items with the Earth Mother's touch.

Her heart broke a little with the small child whispering how he was a
Scryer and therefore subject to suspicion in the predominantly Aldor
city. Merell wondered how peace was kept till she went back to the
robed one benieth the Sha'tar. Then she knew how the peace was kept
but for one or two slain bodies she'd seen in the city, quickly swept
under the rug of politics and policing. The Sha'tar protect the city,
and all of it's inhabitants.

Let me harm none that do not offer harm first. she silently prayed to
the Mother.

Her mind made up she went into the Scryer's tier later that day after
having lived among them for moons and offered her formal allegance.

"I Merell Feathermane, Pack of the Tribe of Bad Moon Rising, Tauren of
the Wildmane clan offer my allegience to the Scryers."

To Merell the eons of study the Aldor have maintained in their fight
against the great enemy was worthy and a right thing to do. However,
Was it not more honrable to learn the path you walk is evil, and
change your path?

Merell returned to Shattrath shortly after wedding two of her clan
sibs. The first of such ceremonies she had ever performed. Calling
upon the Mother and her elements the dark furred Tauren felt a great
peace in her heart and soul.

After an evening working with Keva in Blades Edge she returned again
to Nagrand, with it's wide blue sky, rolling medows and islands in the
air. Laying on her back watching the clouds blink and fitz near the
islands in the sky she closed her eyes and sank into herself.

Perhaps it is the Dream she finds in these odd moments where the
Mother comes to her. Cenarius is with the Mother strolling down an
unseen path towards her prone figure. Gracefully the Mother lowers
herself to the dark furred Tauren and lays the palm of Her hand
against the Taurens heart.

It is time Her voice whispers through Merell's mind.

Cenarius sits at her head and lays his hands on her temples. With the
Mother's consent he begins.

Merell is whisked in her mind further... deper into the Dream. Green
diamond scaled dragons soar overhead calling her to join them. She
hears Cenarius' voice in her mind.

No, not that form young one. This one. In Merell's mind the form of
the golden hawk forms, it's sharp beak, curving talons. Every inch she
takes in the form, the light. Step by step, take it in, fix the
details in your mind, pour yourself into this image.

With exacting detail Merell memorizes every nuance of the feathered
form before her, inside her. The dragons continue to call her. She
pushes it asside with some regret and pulls herself into the image,
every feather perfectly placed, the wind ruffling the light down on
her chest. Her talons sinking into the soft earth. She blinks a couple
times, shifting her head to better see things around her.

The Mother's hand on her chest is now scratching the warm down of her
feathers and smothing them back into place while Cenarius' hands at
her temples lay flat and run down her back to her tail feathers.

Go child of mine, go learn your feathers. the Mother's warm caress of
a voice fills the Taruen's soul.

With a cry of joy Merell is lifted into the air by Cenarius and tossed
into the air, strikeing her wings to either side she flaps, and drops
a little too low. Finally after some desprate flapping she learns to
scoup the air with her wings, to push it down, and herself up. Ever
upward to the great flying things in the air above her. They call out
to her roaring in greeting. She crys out in return and together they
wheel through the air of the Dream.

She is reminded of what is the root of her world. This deadly and
beautiful paradise is what she and her Tribe fight to restore, to
keep, to defend. With the bloodshed never ending it is hard to
remember what lays beyond her own survival and that of the Tribe.

Reeling through the air she plays for a time a game of catch the
dragon that soon disolves into chase the hawk. Though playful she
learned the sharp manuvering nessacary to defend herself in the air
from above, and below.

She dives towards the figures on the ground, the Mother and Cenarius.
Cupping her wings at the last minute she back beats to land on the
ground.

"I See Mother" she says to the glowing form of the Mother.

The Mother nods That is good. Time will call for your strength of
wing, to scout, to escape what cannot be fought. Use it to defend this
land, this home and those others you make your own. Her hand comes out
to cup the beak as she bends to brush lips of energy across the hawk's
crown.

It is time to return to sleep, to the other place. Never forget one is
as real as the other. Cenarius says in fairwell.

As the forms around her disolve she lets go of the hawk to simply lay
furred once more upon the ground. Blinking she opens her eyes briefly
to the sky above Nagrand. Content she closes her eyes yet again and
sinks into true sleep and rest.

She left me with a gift, the gift to heal, far more than I already
did. It left me feeling weak, crippled. My strength gone, surviving by
stelth, only confronting things in groups. I had been a solitary
hunter for the most part. Occasionally I would run with Dakana and
others of the Tribe. Now my power left me one avenue, to maintain
others so they may venture forth into the frey. Distancing myself, so
that I may learn. At least that is what I thought She had in mind.

It turned out regardless of Her intent, or perhaps because of it I
began to see. I began to see that I had been taking delight in
removing evil things from this world. To take delight is to tempt
chaos and destruction. It was better I began to think after a moon's
phase to think upon it as releasing the soul from it's evil binding,
not enjoying the death I brought. Better to morn their passing,
understanding that they themselves may have never choosen the path
that they were forced to walk. Or were betrayed into. It is better to
kill quickly, cleanly lest their corruption touch you in the form of
battle maddness.

My healing hand touched many, the Earth Mother having granted me a new
form perhaps to remind me how I am bound to the earth, to things that
grow, the wolf does not kill for lust. He kills to defend, to feed. A
tiny spark of corruption had touched me, and in my wooden skin I saw
it laid bare and began to heal it.

Colors around me were brighter, the air was cleaner and again the
Earth Mother came to me, Wolf trotting by her side. I fell upon them
both with tears of grief and shame that I had needed to be reminded,
that I had needed to heal that which never should have happened.

"Come child," she whispered in my mind "do not think upon it more."
Her touch was cool and clean like a mountain spring. "You did not
fail, you misstepped and We were here to help guide you back on your
path. Now that you have seen the other way, do not forget it."

I snorted in spite of myself, "I do not think I will forget." I said
aloud.

Wolf fur brushed me, and I felt my strength come back to me. I would
still heal those around me but never again to the fullest extent
sapping my strength with it. I could defend myself once more.

She and the Wolf brushed my mind and the trick of wooden skin was
gone, but the memory was there. I would never become so completely
focused on death, and the blood bath that I took joy in it.

I could take joy in surviving, to defend, to hunt to feed. I crawled
back to the den leaving my guilt of a path lost and rediscovered
behind. Joy I took in my Pack, and my family.

I felt Her smile upon me and stood up, knowing I walked true once
more.