That is hardly how it works, Illidan. You know that. The Emerald Dream must be cared for by the druids. [ Bitterness entered into her voice and she winced as she realized how audible it was. She let out a sigh and then checked the makeshift soup for how done it was. It seemed finished so she spooned some out and came to him. ]

Here. It is hardly much of anything but I suppose that is better than nothing at all.