The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.**
It had been strange times for the young druid in the intervening years since her departure from Outlands. After reaching the culmination of her druidic training, she had wandered for a bit, sight-seeing as it were, and losing herself in the majesty of new lands and the comfort of old ones. She lost touch with not only her extended tribe, Horns of Shu'halo, but also her family and friends. Indeed, she became quite reclusive after spending so many of her years training to please and honor others. She even lost touch with her brother when they parted ways as he went off to Northrend, seeking his fame and fortune chasing after rumors of the Lich King.
After one too many explosions at far too many alchemy labs, not to mention the cost of repairs to her flambéed armor as well as many bad haircuts to disguise a singed mane, Runeclaw moved on to something a little bit safer…for everyone. She found she rather liked inscribing. She loved the brightly colored inks, the floral scents of each glyph she painstakingly created, and even the feel of the delicately feathered quill, one of her very own feathers from her storm crow form, scratching softly across the parchments. The methodical whisper of pen on paper and the evolving flow of her script was a soothing balm in what had become a very chaotic world.
Eventually, she too found herself in Northrend, more out of her insatiable curiosity than anything else. She would occasionally hear a rumor or three or four about her brother's work for the Kirin Tor, but she found that the mages of city Dalaran made her uncomfortable. They seemed quite opposed to the idea of fun and didn't seem to appreciate her attempts at humor, like the time she filled the fountain with soap and watched it bubble over halfway up the road to the flight deck. They also didn't appear to appreciate the waterslide she created in order to "wash it all up" like they ordered. She didn't think three inches of water qualified the bank as being "absolutely ruined by flooding." It did drain out eventually!
It was while she was out on a leisurely flight one day, searching for a suitable fishing hole to while away the hours, that she found herself in Dragonblight, more specifically the Emerald Dragonshrine, and everything changed for her once more. It was there that she met Nishera the Garden Keeper and learned of The Wyrmrest Accord. It was there that she learned more of the Emerald Dream, something she had not thought about since a short jaunt through Wailing Caverns to speak to a druid named Naralex. Instead, she had found an angry mammoth murloc as well, and it left a much deeper impression on her than the slumbering Elf.
She also was urged to speak to an ancient Tauren druid named Xarantaur. He seemed to have more patience for her than many others, and he encouraged her to follow more closely with the Green Dragonflight and to try to learn more of her history as a druid. So, that was what she did, with the hopes that one day perhaps she too could rise to the venerable level of Dragonsworn. She loved listening to The Witness' stories. She spent many an hour imagining herself on a long pilgrimage as he had undertaken, seeing everything there was to see, learning everything there was to know.
Unfortunately, all of her aspirations and ideas were put on hold with The Shattering. Even as far away as Storm Peaks, news eventually reached their ears of the destruction that Deathwing had wrought on Azeroth. Like many druids, she rushed to Mount Hyjal to answer the calls of Hamuul Runetotem and Ysera. It is there that she has been for many months now, eking her way across the landscape of Nordrassil's roots and fighting the raging fires of Ragnaros and the sinister Twilight Dragonflight. Lately, she has been seen keeping company with another young, spirited druid named Thisalee Crow, and the two of them seem to be stirring up a "raven's nest" of trouble as they work together for the Druids of the Talon. Perhaps Runeclaw is finally learning that not all Night Elves want to stab her personally, even if Thisalee does seem to love stabbing things in general!
**Lyrics above are from Bob Dylan's Times They Are A-Changin'