Daybreak.

The two kal’dorei finally made their way through the path between the cave system owned by the furbolg Timbermaw.

Their journey had been quick, having left in the later hours of the night and prepared and packed for somewhat of a short trip through the Timbermaw Tribe’s caves. They had spoken briefly through the uncorrupted guards that had lead them through at the early hours of the morning.

The Marksman glanced to his mate, she often carried a joke on her face, ever teasing and always harassing him in more ways than one, but she seemed to have a serious expression on her face. One that seemed to be filled with doubt, one of worry. Her face had been like this for hours despite what Kanta asked and told her.

He told her he would find her daughter, that is what this whole journey was about.

Several months ago, when the Druids of the Flame first formed by the traitorous Fandral Staghelm, Anarial’s husband had awakened and was tricked into this new order, following the maddening words that were painted in revenge against Malfurion and the Kaldorei for his imprisonment and the death of his son.

The Bear, what Kanta had often called Bairne, came back and sought to kill the Marksman and branded him as a failure. To this day the scars on his chest still remained from the flames burnt into his skin. He had nearly killed Kanta twice during those times, successfully killing his spirit bound beast.

Anarial managed to trick Bairne. She lured him into a trap, played the part of the seductress, denouncing Kanta and her comrades to embrace the Flame. The Marksman, Anarial and their two friends Koryander Emberstone and the druidess Telpeka then managed to drive Bairne back to the earth and snuff his maddening flame out.

Anarial’s daughter eventually found out about the death of her father and approached Kanta about it. While Kanta had lied and said that it was his plan and idea, and that he was the one to put the bullet in Bairne’s body, she left without a word, forbidding Anarial from seeing her granddaughter.

A lot happened since those days, as Anarial and Kanta finally settled down as mates and had shortly gone up north from there. There they fought with the other heroes of the Alliance and Horde to down the Aspect of Death, Deathwing.

Ever since the downfall of the dragon, Anarial and Kanta returned to Moonglade, and nightmares of guilt and recollection of the past months began to plague Anarial’s dreams, just as Kanta’s past had with his own.

Now they move on, making their way and walking through the fresh snow along the path of Winterspring, the sun in the view from the east, over the mountains and shining down on the two kal’dorei.

The Marksman smiled for a moment, happy to see the end of the tunnel and happy to finally have made their way into Winterspring. The two did not expect to be here long, as Winterspring was really not that large of a place, nor that far from their home in Moonglade.

Kanta inhaled the cold, winter air. It was not as cold as the Northrend weather that the Templars were living in for the past few months. It was actually a calming, cool feeling to the skin. It was nothing like the frost biting at the tips of his ears and nearing the feeling of frost bite.

Mid-breath, a snowball hit the Marksman on the side of the head, a cold feeling shooting over his skin as he glared and looked around.

Anarial either took to the shadows or took behind the snow banks, he could hear her usual playful fit of a laughter as the Marksman just stood there in a cold shock.

“Really. Snowballs again, love?” He spoke in his Darnassian tongue, staring in the direction of her laughter in a bit of confusion.

“Come now, you wanted me to cheer up, did you not?” She responded from beyond the snow bank, another snowball flying over and hitting Kanta in the shoulder. The purple haired druidess popped back down to pack together another snow ball.

“... True enough, I suppose.” He smirked and brushed off some of the snow from his shoulder and wiped out some of the remaining chunks from his beard.

Another snowball looped up and over the snow bank towards the Marksman’s direction. This time Kanta took the care to cup his hands and catch it in his gloves. He packed the snow together a bit and readied his arm, waiting for Anarial to pop up like a target.

… Soon enough, a snowball hit the back of his head. Laughter filled the air.

“Elune dammit.”

After some time of the two kal’dorei playing with the snow, the two continued on. They made their way onwards to Starfall village.