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Stirrings drove her on. She knew not where she went, nor what drove her. She only knew it must be done. She must go there, alone. She left all she knew behind to answer the call. She took only the songs in her heart, the soundtrack of her life, ringing in her head.

It drew her across rough lands, with broken feelings. Echoes of sadness and fear, trembles of anger and of ferocity rocked the earth on which she trod as fast as her feet would take her. A desolate place where few understood the trials such a place presented to one such as her. There were bogs that tugged at her, slowed her down. They slurped and laughed and begged her to join them in their despair, their acceptance of lack of hope. KNowing there must be better along the way, and feeling the call grow faint, she tore at the vines that now entwined her legs and pulled her into the murky water. Angered, and using this frustration and fury as a knife, she slashed the vines and wept as she struggled out of this awful place. There must be better later, she told herself. I can do better than this, surely!

Then suddenly she is not alone. There beside her is a shining steed, a stallion of midnight blue, starred and silvered. His mane glows like moonlight, his eyes black and starry, a nova sun burning brightly at their core. Amazed, she slogs on, trying to free herself, though she makes slow progress. He paces beside here, somehow striding along above the much and mire. Wistful, she reaches a hand to him. Instead of fleeing as all dreams do, he bows his head graciously and allows her hand to stroke his rippling neck. Her eyes widen as she realizes he is there to save her. He is there to help her. He is there to give her what she cannot give herself.... encouragment, courage, strength, and a belief in herself. But he can only give it if she will accept it.

Still amazed, she accepts his love, accepts the gracious offer of help. With a rising heart she leaps upon his back and clings on tight. Her breath catches as he gathers himself powerfully beneath her, and what breath she has left leaves her as he surges forward. His movement is sheer joy, his steps light with love. His neigh echoes like triumphant trumpets ringing back from the hills to welcome her. His stride lengthens further, faster, longer! They are not merely running, but they fly! Without wings, without changing her, he shows her how to soar.

He slipped through the forest, alone and empty. His scruffy form belonged nowhere. It was not dark enough to be like a shadow, nor pale enough to blend with mist. It lackedthe color of other things that lived, simply being a pointless shade of grey. Rain speckled his hide as he made his morose way through the land. Friendless, without family or home, he merely kept moving. He would pause long enough to feed himself, but beyond tta he had little purpose in life. His head hung as he padded along, lost and despairing.

So did his aura exude depression and hoplessness, and so did the rain soak his fur, that the few markings that might have set him apart and given him pride were hidden from view, lost in the sodden droopings of his sorry coat. Everything about him spoke of solitary misery.

He needed a change. One was coming. But I know not what it will be.

Can you hear it?
The storyteller and his tale
Beckoning you to enter his world
Of flights of fantasy
Of journeys to tell.

He can't share
if you don't come
If you turn a deaf ear to the music
And close your mind
To the softly haunting hum.

Beneath the wailing whistles
Behind the throbbing drum
Hear the words that are not spoken
That beckon to you
Telling the listener to come.

Hidden within the notes
It is there you will see.
Discover what was woven
For only the imaginative
For those such as you and me.

Open the portal
Step through the gate
Pass with me through
To a better world shut away
Woven without mar or hate.

See the promies,
Know the way
Seek the path that opens up.
When you choose with open mind
To truthfully say

There is life in the music.

Will flames forever darken my eyes?
Must the echoes of sorrow ever burden my heart?
A smudge of darkness, sooty taint,
Marking my soul with pain.

Something lost, taken from me,
A sense of wellbeing, a surety of safety.
Gieving for things forever gone
Memories in ashes, doomed to fade.

How I fight this feeling of loss!
How I despise the return of that time,
Sullying what has become established,
Safe, dependable, and normal once more.

I would banish the ghosts if I could,
Dismiss the feelings of woe and fear.
I wish the shock and deepened despair
Would disappear forever in time.

Forgetfulness would be welcome,
A closing of the doors of my soul.
A silencing of the echoes
And a blanket of cushioning ignorance.

I wish I did not know, did not feel.
I wish I had not seen, had not smelled.
I wish there was no fear, was no agony.
No closing of the throat, no tears.

But wishing and bidding and forgetting
They get me nothing but heart sickness.
So each time it arises, like a cobra on the prowl,
I must face my fears, face the pain,
Acknowledge, defy, understand, and allow.

I must weep if I must weep,
Admit to the weakness that terrified me then.
Be angry, be anguished, be sad.
Then let it go, swept away, tears in the stream of time.

I am not the same.
I am not the old and familiar.
This is new, this is real.
A reality to be face, dealt with, and set aside.

I give Cihiru complete control over the distribution of T'Cora and Darius' first batch of breeding baskets. She has first choice of the three, Uta has second choice, and the third goes to Zero Dream. Cihiru has my permission to inform the colorist of the owner of each basket, so that they may be certed and distributed accordingly.

Even number Draenei, odd number Night Elf!

Turned away to face the pain
On my knees to weep and pray
Tears upon my face in sorrow
For the friend who sees no tomorrow