Bearclaw Valley "You have forgotten the face of your father.”

furious was the dove that darted from the red pineclay path, her eyes wide and set on illidan in disbelief.

no -- that bitch was dead; astara had watched caiaphas' parting with certain smugness, confident it would be the last time the witch walked from bearclaw. that caiaphas had not returned was in of itself a testament to her demise in astara's eyes, and how soundly she slept, knowing her bear's mentor had gone to the path in the clearing.

so when the spitting image darkened her doorstep she hastened towards him, nostrils flaring -- settling only when she realized this beast was but male, and no threat to the realm that was merrick's prickly heart. astara regarded the man coolly, extending a glistening muzzle out towards him: who was he, and why was he here?