The Road to Nogvurot

Traveling out of Rexxentrum on the road to Nogvurot, I camped along the roadside, seeking shelter beneath a large broadleaf tree. The weather was warm, but the intermittent showers made finding a dry place to sleep difficult. In the grey before the dawn I awoke, surprised, seeing a fellow traveler just a dozen yards away. She had spent the night in a thicket at the edge of the forest. We made pleasantries and shared a warm breakfast. Thistle travels to Nogvurot as well, so we formed a casual companionship and took to the road together.
 
The road moved beneath our feet uneventfully; the heavy rains stalking us from behind discouraged wiser folk from traveling this day. As the heaviest part of the storm caught up with us we found refuge in what seemed an abandoned cottage. But investigating the backroom revealed a family of bears who must have called it their home. The tumult of rain and thunder continued outside as we quietly left this "den" on the lower level and retreated to a second story loft.
 
The roof seems to be adequately keeping out the rain, and the door of our room should be enough to discourage our hosts downstairs from interrupting our evening. And if the fates are on our side perhaps we can enjoy a dry journey tomorrow.
 
...
 
In the morning we found the bear family in the living quarters. It was quite an unsettling sight to be sure -- the doors were closed! -- as if they had dexterity enough to operate the handles, and politeness enough to close the doors behind themselves. Through our own door we whispered pleasantries down to the bears and thanked them for their hospitality. In considering our situation Thistle mentioned something about an animal who keeps their young in some sort of pocket-shaped appendage; and in a series of odd turns of dialog I think Thistle may be under the misconception that I don't know what a vagina is. I might want to clarify that, but it's not the sort of topic that comes up often.
 
Making an egress of the second story window, we were met by another (more menacing) bear below. With a strong toss of some food as an offering of friendship we hurried for the road. I was a few paces ahead of Thistle when it seemed she was preparing to take a stand, but then she bit herself. She later told me it was blood magic. I've never seen that sort of thing before; whatever it was it diffused the situation.
 
As we continued Westward a sudden rustle and low growl came from the North side of the road, and I caught a glimpse of a large patch of grey fur through the foliage. Worgs! The encounter was bloody to say the least. There were more than I suspect we could have handled alone, but we weren't alone. The bears arrived on the opposing flank and dispatch many of the worgs.
 
Thistle fell from her injuries. I hid us from the bears while trying to revive her, but this required a level of healing beyond my abilities. I considered the bears again. These were no ordinary bears: their apparent intelligence back in the house, their obvious strength against the worgs. I hoped my hunch was right when I called to them -- and we were surely rewarded. They understood my pleas and transformed before my eyes into beautiful elves. They then used their magic to heal Thistle. I was so happy to have her back!
 
We spoke just briefly with our saviors. The elves indicated that, while they were grateful we showed their cubs no malice last night, they had no interest in our friendship. We offered final gratitude and hurried from their domain.
 
Yesterday Thistle may have been a stranger, but in our short time together I've come to care for her. I hope our arrival in Nogvurot won't be where our plans fork.