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Lost, but not forgotten
Mula stared deep into her tea, the herbs and spices permeated her senses. She was feeling like that tea, right now--a mix of complicated emotions: Regret, fear, anxiety, denial, and relief, to name a few.

She'd run into Aracna earlier that day and the news was confusing, to say the least. She'd wanted to follow Aracna right then and there to their campsite to see if the news was true; that her father was still alive. But she knew that rushing blindly into this would be dangerous. What if she said the wrong thing? Aracna said that her father had lost his memory, and worse, could not remember something he did five minutes prior.

She'd never appreciated her father, not really. She'd always thought him to be weak. She'd lied in her original letter to the Tribe, so many moons ago, saying that she'd taken up his sword after he died in battle against the forces of the Lich King, but that was not the case. He'd never been a warrior. It had been her mother's sword that she'd taken up. It had been kept safe for her by the tauren in Bloodhoof village. Her uncle had kept it safe until he'd died and he'd had the tauren keep it for her until she returned.

She'd learned much since then. Since then, she'd come to appreciate the ways of the druid, for that was what her father was.

"You know, if you look any harder into that cup, you're gonna bore a hole into the bottom of the cup."

She looked up, "Rince, hey.'

The forsaken mage looked at her, "You're supposed to drink it. What's on your mind?"

"My father."

"He's passed on, no?"

"Aracna seems to think that he hasn't. The thing is...I think I already knew that."

Rince just stared at her for a moment, then he regained himself.

Mula continued, still staring at her tea, "The thing is, I think there's something else I'm forgetting, as well." She looked at the mage, who was as pale as a sheet of ice.

"How is she?" He asked.

She patted him on the back, "She's...ok."

Rince stood up and walked out of the room. Mula didn't try to stop him. Her eyes fell back to the tea...It had been her grandmother's recipe. Her father and she would spend much time together gathering herbs and preparing them. At the time she thought it was absolutely boring. But she'd gone back to drinking it when she was carrying Lucerra.

She brought the cup to her lips and drank.
It had not been a good week. She'd gone to speak with her father, and he spent the whole time as a cat. She'd tried to coax him into transforming into his natural tauren form, and all she got was a set of scratches on her leg.

Then there had been that whole ordeal with that goblin.

Mula sighed. "If only there was . . . " She stood up so suddenly that the chair she'd been sitting in flipped backwards. She picked it back up and ran out of the guild hall. It was a stretch, but it just might work.

She reached the Pools of Vision in no time. She needed to calm down. She stood outside the cave, hand on the rocky entrance. Her hands were shaking. She knew at once, it would not work, she was too worked up. What she needed was...
She walked over to the inn and checked in. She took off her armor and put on a simple gown. For the first time in a long time, she unbraided her hair and combed out the knots and using fragrant oils to help soften it. She purchased some incense from a local vendor and found a quiet spot overlooking the grasslands. She lit the incense, knelt down and closed her eyes. The sun was high overhead, and she let the warmth fill her. The wind caught in her hair and it felt as if the spirits were brushing it. She breathed in the incense and ...

She opened her eyes. The sun was on the horizon. The incense was burned up. She watched as the sun melted into the horizon. She stood up and walked back to the inn. She would not need to visit the Pools of Vision.

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