The Heart of a Giant

1

"What do you mean he named Thrall warchief?"

The two moons of Azeroth shone at their full glory across the Arathi Highlands, illuminating a small female orc as she strode around a tall, thin male. Both had green skin and black hair, though her eyes were golden-brown while his burned a demonic red. The female halted abruptly in front of the male.

"How can you tease me like that, Grom, when Doomhammer lies dead?"

"I am not teasing, Sync. Just before he died, Doomhammer named Thrall the new warchief," Grom said quietly.

Sync paced another circle around Grom. "Thrall is hardly more than a boy. Doomhammer should have named you warchief."

Grom shook his head. Even with the fire glowing in his red eyes, he looked tired. "No. Thrall is strong and he shows a good amount of wisdom. He will be a good leader. And I have no desire to be warchief. I would rather be responsible only to myself."

Sync spat into the thick grass. "What's happened to you, Grom? Have you lost your spirit?"

"Maybe I have. I'm old. I'm tired. I've seen too many defeats. But Thrall has enough spirit for us all. He cares about the orcs. This is all new to him, and it excites him. I can feel it when he talks. I can see it when he fights. Do you not see it, too?"

Sync looked off toward the valley where the orcs had gathered after their recent battle. Adults and children milled everywhere, almost falling over each other, but she had no trouble recognizing Thrall even in the moonlit shadows. He stood taller than any of the other orcs. Two younger males, once Doomhammer's aides, were helping him adjust the warchief's black plate armor to fit his own body. Thrall was more muscular than the previous warchief, and the armor did not set easily on him. "He will not properly be of age till he goes through om'riggor."

"You still have om'riggor?"

"Yes, we do. It's not the proper ceremony we had on Draenor, but it works."

"We could hold a quick ceremony tonight." Grom reached down to put his hand on her shoulder.

She slapped Grom's hand away. "He would still be a child. And I see no reason to risk everything we've got on a child's dreams."

"It is my dream, too. And Doomhammer's. To free the captive orcs, to unite the Horde again, to find a home where we can regain our lives. And our sanity."

"We've lost so much already," Sync said, her voice almost breaking. "What if it doesn't work?"

Grom reached for her shoulder again, and this time she did not push him away. "It will, Sync. It will. It has to."