Azeroth had two moons. This was known to anyone who upon occasion looked up, but it wasn't a fact that had much relevance in day-to-day life. Only this week, out of the entire year, was there much attention paid to two lunar bodies.
Xara hadn't been to Moonglade in seven years. She wasn't necessarily avoiding it; there had just been no reason to return. There had been other continents, other worlds, to travel to, when she hadn't been in retirement. But it had been suggested to her that she make the trip now to the place where the lunar powers were the strongest, and with the way Cyelaena was acting, it had seemed wise.
The trolless looked down at the creature who padded alongside her as she exited the tunnel into the cool green of the glade. The glowing blue wolf was as inscrutable now as she'd ever been. Even Lupa, Xara's diffident ghost saber – notably, not actually a spirit, unlike Cye – was more readable. The ghost wolf was a loyal companion, who willingly assisted Xara in combat, but her motivations remained mysterious. The only thing Xara knew about her was her purpose for being here, and that was a purpose Xara had thought was fulfilled seven years ago.
It had been a long seven years, Xara reflected. Moving through the glade's paths, they occasionally came across a deer or rabbit which only regarded them, unafraid, before returning to its business. After the Eclipse, Xara had left Elrioch, left Citadel, and met Fhenrir. She had lost so much over the years; friends, times, opportunities, homes; and yet she had grown wiser for it, and more appreciative of what she did have. She appreciated Fhenrir, her partner, gruff and hot-tempered and loyal; she appreciated the old friends she still had, like Civarra, Elek, Vilmah, Nojinbu, Feorn, and others; and she appreciated the new friends she had made since coming out of retirement, especially the one who turned out to be family, Lilliana.
They reached the ancient pavilion. It was high elf in design, like the ruins of Azshara or Feralas. Xara wasn't exactly knowledgeable on history, but she'd learned a little about the origins of the various kinds of elves who inhabited Azeroth. She climbed the steps, Cye bounding up them easily, and turned around at the top to look over the glade.
The still waters of the lake glimmered peacefully. Cye stood by with all evidence of patience as Xara breathed in the misty air. The ghost wolf evinced no concerns, now. No pacing; no staring at strangers. Xara frowned down at the creature.
"Why are you still here?" she asked.
Cyelaena didn't answer. She merely looked into the woods.