Bearclaw Valley triple six, five, forked tongue

The boy was itching to go out again and see what was beyond the valley, but he knew that would only put him at further risk somehow. Not wanting to anger the adults for the time being, Karst entertained himself near the rendezvous for a few hours; he was imagining what life would be like if he could wander anywhere he wanted with Illidan at his side, or his brother, or both.

He thought of the man in silver robes outside of the forest, and soon enough Karst was immersed in this game of make-believe. He ran circles around the rendezvous and would stop to dive at the dirt, stomp across grass, or mime actions that made sense in his own head and nowhere else; kid stuff, naturally.

In his head he was a great adventurer alongside his brother, seeking sage advice from the stern man of the stones. The fantasy popped right out of his head when he finally noticed the sound of a struggle rising from some trees, and so Karst's imagination died and he went on high-alert, stalking closer and closer — anticipating a trap — and let out a biiiig sigh of relief when he saw it was his brother.

He called out: What doing?