Bearclaw Valley and it was for only one of two things: opening or leaving closed

the dark witch motioned for the borders. illidan did not hesitate in this offering. he nodded his head to her once and quickly took a place at her side so that he might make himself of use to the leader of the valley. the gunslinger was smart about keeping his pace just slightly behind her, head below her own, and perfectly content in this display of submission. he trusted morgana to lead them wherever she believed needed tending, and illidan would assist in any way that he could.
 
knowing that conversation was a limited thing with the dark witch was not a bad thing for the weary young beast. he felt that he had talked enough in his lifetime; words did little good except to build hopes and then dash them. the stern silence that was met every time he had approached morgana had become a comfort to the hooded boy. he feared this to an extent, knowing that comforts were often just a temporary thing.