Moonlight flowed like water, and the night breeze blew softly.
The nights at Feathermoon Stronghold offered scenery completely unlike Westfall's. In his previous life, Shawn had lived among red bricks, gray tiles, steel, and white walls. His fifteen years of memories in this life held only Westfall's barren, windswept landscape. Only the lush green of Elwynn Forest had stirred his longing for the beauty of nature.
Yet compared with Feralas, Westfall was far too desolate, and even Elwynn Forest seemed somewhat young and immature.
After countless rounds of logging and planting, after passing through nature's cycle countless times, Elwynn Forest bore far too many traces of the human world. Feralas, however, had never undergone large-scale logging. Its luxuriant vegetation grew quietly through cycles of flourishing and withering, and most of its trees were hundreds or even thousands of years old.
This forest was cherished by the Night Elves, guarded by Karonas, the Ancient of War, and blessed by nature itself.
Amid this quiet, peaceful atmosphere, Shawn found a tranquility deep within his heart unlike anything he had ever known.
Meanwhile, in the Town Hall of Feathermoon Stronghold, Shandris Feathermoon and Jaina Proudmoore, two of Azeroth's most renowned legendary women, were having a heart-to-heart conversation.
After hearing about Stormwind City's current situation and what had happened to King Varian, Shandris Feathermoon considered it for a moment, then said apologetically, "The Night Elves and humans both belong to the Alliance. With Stormwind City facing such trouble, I certainly shouldn't stand idly by. But the Feathermoon Sentinels have their own duties. We must watch the Hatecrest Naga on the Isle of Dread and remain vigilant against the Satyrs of Dire Maul. We cannot leave lightly, nor can we simply launch an attack on Dire Maul."
Although Jaina had hoped Shandris could help, she