Hamuul edged his way to Naralex. Although as exhausted as the rest, the night elf stood observing a single seed in his hand. As the tauren neared, Naralex gently waved his other hand over the seed, at the same time murmuring as if to an infant.

The seed burst open. A tiny tendril rose out of it. When it grew to more than four inches, Naralex shifted his free hand to the left. The shoot arched in that direction.

The night elf made a curving motion to the right. Retaining the arch to the left, the new plant now grew to the indicated direction.

“This is what we’re meant to be,” Naralex solemnly stated to Hamuul. “Nurturers of life. Gardeners of paradise …”

“If Azeroth were perfect, yes,” agreed the tauren, “but it is not.”

“No… it isn’t.” Bending, Naralex set the seed on the ground. He drew a circle around the seed.

The ground within the circle churned. The seed sank down until only the shoot remained.

Naralex tidied the area around the plant, then turned his attention to Hamuul. “And have you found our brother Broll?”

The tauren fought to keep his nostrils from flaring. “I am still searching for him.”

The night elf’s eyes narrowed. “We both know that he never returned with us, brother Hamuul.”

Hamuul neither confirmed nor denied it. “I promised Archdruid Fandral Staghelm that I would look for Broll. I must continue.”

In what under some circumstance might have proven a dangerous act, Naralex thrust a hand out to stop the departing tauren. “Archdruid Fandral’s moved on to other things. He’s not even here at the moment, brother Hamuul.”

“Not here?” Again, the tauren sought to hide any wariness.

“While you were… elsewhere… he suggested that we all do what we can to cleanse our thoughts so that when he returned, we could begin anew with another spell for Teldrassil.”

“And where has he gone in the meantime?”

Naralex gazed up… and up. “The enclave, naturally. He said he’s seeking guidance in the seclusion of his sanctum there.”

Hamuul snorted before he could stop himself. He had his suspicions as to where Broll Bearmantle had flown, though exactly what the night elf had intended then was a matter of conjecture.

The tauren could imagine one thing in particular, but Broll would not have been so audacious… would he?

Naralex lowered his arm. “I thought you’d like to know. Do you think that perhaps our brother Broll might have had a similar thought… seeking guidance in the enclave, I mean?”

Fully recovered, Hamuul replied, “I doubt that Broll Bearmantle will be found up there.”

The night elf nodded ever so slightly. “I thought as much, also. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

Leaving Naralex, Hamuul pondered matters. Naralex had been trying to give him a warning, in case there was some reason that Broll would be up in the enclave. The night elf had likely wondered why Broll would not have returned for the convocation and came up with what he believed the most likely answer.

And that meant that Fandral had probably done the same.

Frowning, the tauren bent back to look up in the direction of unseen Darnassus. He hoped he was correct in one thing, that Broll Bearmantle was not up in the enclave. In truth, the only reason he would have gone there would have been to seek something in Archdruid Fandral’s sanctum. Hamuul feared that it would turn out to be the Idol of Remulos. The tauren knew of no other thing that Broll would have thought of to use. After all, it was tied to the Emerald Dream, where Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage’s dreamform had gone missing.

And it was also bound to the one method that someone as impetuous as Broll might use to find their missing shan’do.

He would not… Broll would not risk that…

Hamuul blinked. Yes. Broll would.

A shadow passed over him. Turning, he saw a huge storm crow descending. It could only be Fandral returning, the lead archdruid this time choosing the swiftness of the avian form to the more artful entrance he had utilized at the beginning of the convocation.

As the storm crow alighted, it transformed. Wings became arms, legs grew. Talons became feet. Feathers flew away or became hair and garments. The beak receded, turning into a mouth and nose…

Fandral once more himself, straightened. Among all the druids assembled, his eyes fixed upon distant Hamuul.

Grave disappointment filled the night elf’s gaze. It was all Hamuul needed to see to understand that Fandral knew everything Broll had done.

The tauren prayed that his friend knew what he was doing.

They had shifted again. Broll knew it, even though once more he had been unable to focus long on the place through which they had moved. He was certain that it had been the Emerald Dream… but then why were his memories of those moments as hazy as the mist enshrouding Auberdine?

And, more important, how was a human — a human!  — able to physically cross into the mystic realm almost without realizing it?

There was, however, no time at present to seek such answers from Lucan Foxblood. The three were still on the move, for Lucan’s sudden action had taken them not farther from the dragon… but rather nearly underneath it.

“Get down!” Tyrande whispered.

The shadow swooped past them as if racing the wind itself. The gust it in turn created nearly accomplished the high priestess’s suggestion. The trio were buffeted to their knees.

Yet… the dragon did not turn. It did not bank and drop upon them. Instead, it dove deep into the hills just beyond their position… and did not rise up again.

Broll was the first to voice what the others also surely thought.

“At that speed, it should have either come up or crashed …”

“What is a black dragon doing here?” Tyrande asked.

“Wherever here might be …”

“It wasn’t black.”

The night elves looked to Lucan. Still very wild-eyed, he repeated himself. “It… it wasn’t black… it was green …”

“A color-blind human,” Broll grunted.

“If he were color-blind, he would not be seeing green instead of black,” the high priestess pointed out. Her tone reassuring, she said to Lucan, “Tell us why you say the dragon was green.”

He shrugged. “It was near enough to see.”

The druid shook his head. “Well, that’s an answer. Not the right one, since we were just as close to see it and it was black.”

Tyrande studied the human. Finally, “Yet an answer I sense with some grain of potential truth, Broll… at least as Lucan knows it.”

She checked her glaive. “I think we should investigate this dragon who might be black, might be green. There could be a reason we ended up so near it.”

“And if it turns out to be a black dragon?”

She started in the last direction that they had seen the beast fly.

Tyrande readied the glaive for tossing. “Then, we kill it.”

Lucan looked to Broll as if hoping he would tell the man that she did not mean what she said. Instead, the druid gripped the cartographer by the arm and led him after, saying, “You’re better with us than not …”

Lucan did not look at all convinced.

They wended their way over the hills, moving as quickly as Lucan’s presence permitted. He was not slow, but he was neither in optimal health nor a night elf. Still, he kept pace better than Broll would have expected, considering all the human had been through.

They paused only once, when Broll felt an itch on his neck. He looked behind them.

“What is it?” Tyrande quietly asked.

“Thought someone was following us… but I’m wrong.”

A short while later the high priestess called a halt. Lucan took the moment to catch his breath while the night elves conferred.

“If the dragon landed… it must be very near here,” Tyrande remarked.

“Agreed. We’ve seen a few caves, but nothing large enough for such a huge creature… and this one’s bigger than many, no matter what its color might be.”