A calm wind whistled throughout the cliffs of Mulgore. The full moon was bright tonight, providing light for the sleeping village of Thunder Bluff. On the spirit rise, a shaman sat with his back against the walls of the tent, whittling away at a new totem. Occasionally, the scraping of lumber paused and the shaman glanced up. Tarrus would toss and turn, deep in the Emerald Dream. The shaman knew better than to wake him, because this same experience has been repeating itself. Tonight, however, the druid was more sporatic with his movements.
Suddenly, Tarrus raised his back from the floor, breathing heavily throughout his nostrils. His chest sunk and rose with each deep breath. The shaman stopped carving once more and glanced to him.
"Bad dream?" he said.
Tarrus turned his head towards the voice and let several seconds pass before nodding.
"It's unnerving, Yichimet. I've been having nightmares repeatedly, but not like this. I've felt disruptions in the Emerald Dream before, but this is different. This isn't coming from the Dream, but from Nature itself. She screams to me."
"Nature is at peace for now, brother. Perhaps these dreams you're having... A warning? An omen?"
More seconds passed. Tarrus rose and lifted himself with his staff, walking towards the entrance to the tent. He stared at the moon, the winds brushing his cloak to the side.
"Perhaps... But what could it be warning me of? With the successes our forces are having in Icecrown, Azeroth finally seems to be at peace once more. "
The shaman chuckled sadly. "Peace never seems to last, but, we've handled worse."
The elder druid walked back to his mat. "I'm not so sure."