I heard he could be found in the cavernous city of Ironforge. As I rode the
oily smelling transport, I tried to think how to approach him. My muscles
tensed. Why was I wary? Upon arrival, I stealthed and wandered in the
firegut below the ways like a coward. I found him easily enough. He was
sitting on his mount. Just sitting. Alone. I turned and ran out of the mountain and sat panting in the snow.

I don’t know what I wanted. Maybe just to speak with someone. There are no
friends. I am afraid if I stay feral too long from fear or loneliness, I will lose myself again. I wish I knew what happened before. I wish I could remember. Does he know secrets I should know?

Stop. Tears do no good. So, I went back. I paced. I shifted and made myself speak to him. He stayed on his mount. Scent of what? Not fear. Perhaps anticipation? I asked about his brother. He had no real news. Something about tasks somewhere. I told him I ran from his brother because I did not want to hurt the innocent. He said,

“Do you know about his past? He was an assassin.”

I did not mean he was innocent of blood. I meant he was innocent of heart.

I asked about his lovers, again nothing. Are all druids alone in their
mind?

I trembled as I spoke with him.

This is a dark place. This hard mountain.