(Author's Note: The italics in this chapter indicates a flashback. It also, as usual, indicates that the characters are speaking in Zandali, the language of the trolls. Enjoy.)

The troll girl – Jenxa – sat on a stool across from Gorrum's desk. Gorrum squinted at her, frowning deeply. He glanced down at the documents on his desk. "Jenxa." He pronounced, reading the girl's name off the paper. "Mother, Antu of Sen'jin. Father, unknown. Do you know why you're here?" Jenxa lowered her head. She kept her hands folded neatly in her lap, her ankles crossed. She fidgeted uncomfortably under Gorrum's steady gaze. Her yellow hair fell in tangled waves over her bare shoulders. Karg had pulled her right out of bed. She still wore her loose, thin nightclothes. After several seconds of silence, Gorrum repeated himself. "I said, do you know why you're here?"

Gren jabbed the girl's shoulder with a fingernail. The girl squealed as though she'd been stabbed. "Captain asked you a question."

"Let her be, Gren." Gorrum scolded. Gren stepped away from the girl, rolling his eyes. The troll rubbed her shoulder, sniffling quietly. Gorrum smiled at the girl. "We're not here to scare you, Miss Jenxa. We just want some answers." He said in a low, soothing voice. The troll girl looked up. She rubbed her eyes. Her face was purple and puffy from crying.

"I…" She hiccupped, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, "I…I d-didn't do a-a-anyfin' w-wrong." Her words were broken by sobs. Tears dribbled down her face and dripped off her chin. She refused to look Gorrum in the eye, instead staring down at the desk where he sat.

"We're not saying you did anything wrong, Miss Jenxa." Gorrum continued in his most soothing voice. He could understand why she was scared. Being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night was scary by itself. As much as he hated to admit it, Gorrum knew he was pretty frightening looking himself, what with his extensive burn scars. "Are you cold? Do you want something to drink?" She'd be more likely to answer questions if they put her at ease first. Jenxa shook her head, hugging herself tighter. Her small chest heaved with sobs. "I need you to cooperate with me. If there's anything I can do to help you relax, please tell me."

"I didn't do anyfin' wrong!" Jenxa cried shrilly, covering her head with her hands. Gorrum sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration. He pointed to Karg, who stood near the door with Gren.

"Get her a blanket at least. It's not fair to make her sit here in her underwear." Karg saluted and ducked outside into the hall. Gorrum looked up at the girl again. "Miss…all you need to do is answer a few simple questions. We're not going to hurt you. We're not accusing you of anything."

The troll girl lifted her head. "De…de guard said…I was undah arrest." She whimpered.

"He said that, yes, but that's not entirely true. We're just trying to find the truth, Miss Jenxa. And you can help us." He said, smiling at her again. "Don't you want to bring your mother's killer to justice?" Jenxa didn't say a word. Gorrum frowned. "The sooner you cooperate with us, the sooner you'll be able to go home with your, er, employer."

Karg returned with a blanket. He draped it over the girl's naked shoulders. She flinched away from his touch. Pulling the blanket tightly around her, she let out a strangled sob. "O…Okee." She breathed. Gorrum nodded.

"All right, then. Your name is Jenxa, daughter of Antu of Sen'jin." The girl nodded. Gorrum shuffled through his papers. "Exactly nine days ago, your mother was discovered murdered in her hut. Someone had impaled her on a fire poker and pinned her to a table. The record shows that you were nowhere to be found. Is this all true?"

"Y-yah." Jenxa sniffled.

"The day after the murder, Karg Skullcrusher encountered you in the town of Razor Hill. A week after, Karg spotted you again working at a jewelry kiosk in the Valley of Strength." Gorrum finished. He set the papers back down on his desk. "We just need you to fill in the gaps, Miss Jenxa. First things first – what happened on the day of your mother's death?"

Jenxa reached up to her collarbone, touching her neck as if feeling for something that wasn't there. She quickly dropped her hands. "I…I didn't mean ta…" She began, hiccupping, "I really, really didn't…it just…it just…" She rubbed her watery eyes.

"Didn't mean to…what?" Gorrum prodded, tilting his head toward the girl.

"I was…I was jus'…jus' so scared an'…"

"Miss Jenxa, take a deep breath." Gorrum advised. The troll girl did as she was told. "Now…tell us clearly what happened on the day of your mother's death." However, it was no use. The troll started crying again. She covered her face with her hands, body trembling with the force of her sobs. Hugging her knees to her chest, Jenxa curled into a heaving, shaking ball. Closing his eyes, Gorrum groaned. "We're not getting anywhere with this."

Karg stepped forward. "Maybe we should give her some time to calm down."

Gorrum nodded. "That seems like our only option at this point. Karg, take Miss Jenxa back to the holding pen. Gren, fetch me the man she was with." He glanced back down at his papers. "This jeweler, Zaljaf. I want to question him as well."

Gren saluted. "Yes, sir." With that, he vanished out the door. Karg took hold of the troll girl's shoulders and lead her out of the room. Gorrum spread his papers out across the table. There were a thousand different pieces to this murder. No matter which way he looked at them, none of the bits seemed to fit together. Just who was Jenxa? And who was this 'Zaljaf' she'd been living with? And what did it have to do with the murder? Gorrum had been captain of the Orgrimmar Guard for many years now, but he'd never seen a murder quite as convoluted as this one.

Zaljaf sat in the dark, his back to the holding pen wall. They'd taken Jenxa away before he got a chance to speak with her. The night's events played over and over again in his mind. Groaning, he rubbed his head. He could feel a large bump forming on the back of his skull. The last thing he remembered was seeing Jenxa fall. After that, he'd tried to fight back, but the guards overwhelmed him. One of them had cracked him over the head with the hilt of his sword. Next thing Zaljaf knew, he was here in the holding pen with the unconscious Jenxa. As soon as she came to, though, the guards dragged her from the pen. Zaljaf hadn't gotten a word in edgewise. All he could do now was wait.

The holding pen door creaked open. Zaljaf lurched forward. "Jenxa?" He asked, squinting to see the figure entering.

"Guess again." The orc guard hauled him to his feet. Zaljaf hissed in pain. His leg throbbed painfully under him. "Captain wants to ask you a few questions."

Zaljaf snarled and threw a punch at the orc guard. The guard ducked, seizing hold of Zaljaf's wrists and squeezing. Hissing, Zaljaf tried to jerk free. "Where's Jenxa?" He demanded.

"She's fine." The guard answered, "But you won't be if you try any more of this shit." The guard gripped Zaljaf's wrist a little tighter. The bones in Zaljaf's arm popped sickeningly.

"Let go o' me!" The old jeweler spat. He swung with his free arm, but the orc caught his fist.

"I told you, your girl's fine." The orc sneered. "You coming quietly or not?"

"I need to talk ta Jenxa, mon. Dis is important!" Zaljaf pleaded.

"There'll be time to talk once the questioning is over." Still gripping Zaljaf's wrist, the orc led him outside. Zaljaf looked up at the sky. The dark blue night was stained with the faintest pink blushes of dawn. He'd only been unconscious for a few hours at most. His head reeled. Where was Jenxa? He had to talk to her, to tell her that…

The orc led him to a hut standing separate from all the others. Gripping Zaljaf by the shoulders, the orc pushed him inside. "I brought the man for you, captain." Inside, the small office was lit with lantern. A bulky, muscular orc, his entire right side colored with burn scars, sat behind a desk toward the back of the room. An eye patch hid his right eye, but the left eye was small and orange. The burned orc gestured to a stool a few feet in front of the desk. Still pushing Zaljaf along, the orc guard forced him down onto the stool. Zaljaf sat. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to keep from lashing out at the guards again.

"Good morning." The burned orc said. "I'm Captain Gorrum of the Orgrimmar Guard. And you are Zaljaf the jeweler, if I'm not mistaken."

"Dat's me, mon." Zaljaf grumbled, glaring at the captain from under his bangs.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"All I know is dat some crazy orcs pulled me an' me model outta bed in de middle o' de night an' dragged us down here." Zaljaf stared defiantly at the captain. "Where's Jenxa?"

"She's fine." As soon as the captain spoke, another orc guard entered the room. Zaljaf glowered at him over his shoulder. It was the very same orc guard who'd come to arrest them earlier. The guard bowed to the captain.

"Miss Jenxa's safe back in the holding pen, sir." The guard announced.

Gorrum smiled. "See? She's all right. Now…Mister Zaljaf, all I want to do is ask you a few questions. That's fine, isn't it?"

Zaljaf chuckled bitterly. "Ya have yer boys pull us outta bed in de night, knock us ovah de heads, an' den throw us in a cell. Sorry ta say it, cap'n, bu' I ain't really amenable ta answerin' questions righ' now."

"That's too bad, because I'm asking anyway." The captain replied. "As long as you cooperate, we can wrap this up and send you home all the sooner. But if you want to stay and struggle over this all night, we can do that too."

"Ask away, den, mon." Zaljaf couldn't feel more humiliated. He sat before the orc captain half naked in just his slacks with his long hair falling all over his face. His gimp leg dangled off the edge of the stool, useless. The orcs eyed him with disdain. Zaljaf's skin burned with loathing. How dare they drag him from his home in the middle of the night? How dare they force him to sit half naked through an interrogation? He scowled at the guard captain.

The captain glanced at his papers, then back at Zaljaf. "Zaljaf. Occupation – jeweler. You have a stall in the Valley of Strength, where you sell handcrafted jewelry. Is this all true?"

"Yah, mon."

Gorrum eyed him suspiciously. "How long have you been working in Orgrimmar?"

Zaljaf shrugged. "Four years, give 'r take."

"And what is your relationship to Miss Jenxa?"

Zaljaf shook his head. "I dun even know anymore, mon."

Gorrum raised an eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Zaljaf looked directly at the captain. "Jenxa's dead mum. Her name was Antu, righ'?"

Gorrum glanced down at his papers. "Yes, it was Antu."

"It's a funny ting, mon." Zaljaf combed back his hair with his fingers. For a moment, he forgot his rage at the orc guards. His head swarmed with thoughts. Antu. The name struck a chord inside him, echoing in his memory. When he heard the name, it called forth images of a time long past. He saw lush, steamy jungles, long, starless nights, and a young woman with yellow hair. "It's been…well, near twenty years since I last seen me mate. Bu' dat dun mean I's forgotten her. No, nevah. When I heard dat lad down dere say Jenxa's mum's name, well, I nearly fell ovah in shock. Antu, ya see…dat was me mate's name."

Gorrum's eyes widened. He leaned forward over his desk, craning his strong neck to get a better look at Zaljaf's face. "Is…Is that so?"

Zaljaf grimaced. "Yah, mon, it's so."

Gorrum shook his head. "But…it can't be the same Antu, can it?"

"'Antu' ain't a common name, mon." Realizations pinged against Zaljaf's consciousness. The memories of his years with Antu were hazy with time, but he still held onto them. When he first caught sight of Jenxa wandering through the Valley of Strength, she'd looked unsettlingly familiar, though he couldn't pinpoint why. He'd recognized her tall, skinny figure and her long blonde hair. She looked like someone he knew, even if he couldn't remember who. Perhaps that was why he'd had her model for him. Only now did he realize it – she was the spitting image of his mate at that age. The only difference was the eye color. Antu had orange, sunset colored eyes. Jenxa's were gold. "It was…so long ago."

"Are you…" The captain began, squinting at Zaljaf, "Are you suggesting that you're Jenxa's father?"

Zaljaf opened his arms, gesturing to himself. "'Ey…I'm old enough, ain't I?

Gorrum shook his head. "I…I don't believe this. You come in here telling me that you're this girl's missing father. The father that, my records say, she's had no contact with for the last eighteen years."

"I don't quite believe it eithah, mon."

"And you just happened to run into her the moment she came to Orgrimmar. What are the odds of that - just turning a corner and meeting your estranged father? I don't believe it, Mister Zaljaf. I do not." Gorrum concluded, standing and slamming his hands down on the desk. Zaljaf gazed at his feet. Painful memories bubbled up in the back of his mind. "I am searching for a murderer. Not some troll girl's lost family. Unless you know anything about this...Antu's murder, I have no use for you." Gorrum dropped back into his chair, massaging his temples.

"I ain't been to Sen'jin since I first came here, mon. I dun know nothin'."

Gorrum glared at Zaljaf through his fingers. "Take him back to the holding pen." He ordered. The two orc guards approached Zaljaf from behind, pulling him off the stool and dragging him toward the door. Zaljaf didn't resist. They hauled him through the courtyard back to the holding pen. Overhead, the sky was lavender with dawn. Zaljaf stumbled along with the orc guards, not fighting back when they opened the holding pen door and shoved him inside.

The inside of the holding pen was dark. There were no windows and only a faint, silver beam of light crept in under the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the hunched form of Jenxa crouching in the corner. "Jenxa?" He called. She looked up, the silhouette of her head just barely visible against the dark wall.

"Zaljaf!" She scrambled to her feet and dashed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Zaljaf caught her, wrapping his arms around her torso. His daughter. She was his daughter. Zaljaf squeezed her tightly. "I was worried dey'd taken ya away!"

"It's awright, mon. I'm here." Zaljaf replied. "I…I want to tell ya sometin', Jenxa. Sometin' important."

She pulled away from him. "What?"

Zaljaf took her hand. He sat down, pulling her down to the floor with him. "It's…a story ya need ta hear, mon. Maybe aftah ya hear it, tings will make sense."

The moon hung high in the sky over the Cape of Stranglethorn, bleaching the landscape with its white light. Fireflies danced through the trees, turning lazy circles in the air and lighting delicately on the plants. Steam rose off the nearby river, shrouding the low jungle like the veil of a bride. Zaljaf, only twenty, sat next to Antu on the riverside. Reaching out, he captured one of the fireflies in his fist. Smiling, he turned to Antu. The small bug glowed inside his hand. Unfurling his fingers, he let it go. Looping dizzily in the air, the firefly drifted up out of reach. "Now you try." He said.

Antu frowned up at the fireflies. Licking her lips, she rose to her feet and made a grab at one. Opening her hand, she grinned down at the small, glowing bug. "My big brother used to catch these in a jar. He'd put them by my bedside so I wouldn't be afraid of the dark." She said, letting the firefly free. Grinning, she dropped back down next to Zaljaf. "They're really beautiful, aren't they?"

Zaljaf wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her fondly. "Not as beautiful as you."

Antu giggled, kissing her lover on the cheek. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, stroking his bare chest with her fingers. "I haven't played with fireflies since I was a kid." She sighed. "The jungle's peaceful at night, isn't it?"

"I have a gift for you."

Antu cocked her head curiously at Zaljaf. He turned away from her, searching his pockets for her present. Finally, he found it. Taking the necklace from his pocket, he lifted it up to let her see it. The pearls gleamed brightly in the moonlight, segmented on the string by shimmering bits of gold. Antu gasped in delight, taking the necklace and reverently touching the shiny stones. "It's beautiful!" She exclaimed. Pushing back her hair, Zaljaf helped her tie it around her neck. "Where did you get this?"

"I made it." Zaljaf answered. "For you."

"Where did you find all these pearls? And this gold?" Antu asked, brushing the necklace with her fingers.

Zaljaf blushed. "Well…it took a lot of digging and a lot of diving, but…you're worth it."

Antu squeezed his arm. "It's lovely. I can't believe you made it all by yourself. You're an artist."

Zaljaf chuckled, his blush deepening. "Me? No…I just wanted to give you something special. Because I love you."

Antu pulled him into a kiss. As they parted, she stroked his cheek. "You're so kind to me, Zaljaf. Not like the others." All of a sudden, her smile faded. She turned away from Zaljaf, staring instead at the steamy surface of the river. Zaljaf's grin dropped off his face. Leaning in, he gripped Antu's shoulder.

"Are they giving you trouble again?" He asked, a hint of a growl in his voice. Antu shrugged off his hand.

"It's nothing."

"If they're bothering you, I'll—"

She cut him off. "I said it's nothing, Zaljaf. Honestly."

Zaljaf's hand fell off her shoulder. "I don't care what they say. They're jealous. You're the strongest warrior in the village and they can't stand it. It doesn't matter that you're a woman."

"Don't say it like that!"

Zaljaf raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

"I fight hard. Gender isn't important. Calling me a woman is just singling me out as different."

Zaljaf chuckled. He lifted her hands and kissed them. "You are a woman, Antu. To me." Antu blushed brightly, ducking her head. Zaljaf laughed again, kissing her shoulder. "The most beautiful woman in Stranglethorn."

"And you are the most sentimental berserker I've ever met." Antu huffed, tugging affectionately on his braids, "But I like that about you."

"I'm glad." They kissed again. Antu hooked her arms around Zaljaf's neck, drawing him closer to her. Zaljaf's hands moved over her curves, groping her body hungrily. Gently, she pulled him down on top of her.

The two trolls lay entwined on the river bank as the fireflies swirled overhead.

Zaljaf woke to the sound of Antu vomiting. She leaned heavily against the doorframe with her back to him, emptying the contents of her stomach all over the ground. "Antu?" Zaljaf called. Antu turned slightly, managing to look him in the eye before she doubled back over in sickness. Pushing back the blankets, Zaljaf rushed to her side. Gently, he rubbed her back. "Antu? What's wrong?" The door to their hut stood open. The sun was just rising over the trees. Tears rolled down Antu's cheeks. Her face was purple with discomfort.

"I just woke up…and I felt sick." She croaked, clutching her stomach. "Urp…." Her mouth filled and she rushed back outside. Hot stomach bile spilled out on the sand. Zaljaf followed her out, holding back her hair as she vomited.

"We'd better take you to see the witchdoctor." Zaljaf concluded."You say it just started this morning?"

Antu nodded, wiping her face with her arm. Linking arms with her, Zaljaf walked her away from the hut. The village witchdoctor lived in the center of town in a hut by himself. It was just a short walk from the house he and Antu shared, but Antu vomited all the way there. Finally, they reached the witchdoctor's hut. After a few knocks, the old witchdoctor answered. "Yes? How can I help you?" He asked, then he noticed Antu hunched over with nausea.

"My mate is sick." Zaljaf answered. Nodding, the witchdoctor stepped aside. Gently, Zaljaf ushered Antu in. Once inside, Antu dropped down in the first free chair she found. Zaljaf hovered nervously by her side. "She just started vomiting this morning. She usually never gets sick."

The witchdoctor nodded. He examined Antu closely, peering into her eyes and mouth. "Hm." Turning, he began digging through his cabinet of supplies. Finally, he retrieved a small vial and handed it to Antu. "Go out back and urinate into this." He ordered. Antu nodded weakly. She rose from her chair and shuffled outside.

Zaljaf frowned. "Why do you need her urine?" He asked.

"I have a feeling your mate may be with child." The witchdoctor answered. Zaljaf nearly fell over in shock.

"With child?" He spluttered.

"Yes." The witchdoctor nodded. "It's common for women to vomit when they're with child."

"She can't be. We—"

Antu pushed the hut door open. In one hand, she gripped the now-filled vial. With the other, she rubbed her stomach. Zaljaf gaped at her, looking her up and down, trying to find some change in her appearance that'd betray her pregnancy. She looked no different than usual. Blinking blearily, she handed the vial off to the witchdoctor and sat back down. The witchdoctor retreated to his work table, taking a handful of powder and dropping it into the vial. He swished the vial around experimentally. The contents changed color. He turned back to the couple, giving them a congratulatory smile. "It's official – you are pregnant, Miss Antu."

Antu's eyes widened. "Wha—?" She rubbed her eyes, "Pregnant?"

"You're going to have a baby."

"A…A baby?" At the news, Antu began to cry.

After hearing that Antu was pregnant, the other warriors refused to let her fight with them. Antu spent her days confined to the hut. Every now and then, Zaljaf would catch her crying quietly by herself. 'It's only for now', Zaljaf reassured her, 'You'll be able to fight again once the baby is born.' His attempts at comforting fell flat, though. All through the nine months that Antu carried the child, she refused to let him touch her. She refused even to sleep in the same bed with him. Even so, she never took her anger out on the child. Antu was good. She stayed in bed and let the pregnancy run its course.

He sat down next to her on the bed, Scowling, she rolled over away from him. Gently, he stroked her thigh. "I'm going to take my raptor for a run. Are you all right here?"

"I'm fine." Antu growled, slapping his hand away. Zaljaf frowned down at her, but said nothing. Silently, he rose from the bed and stepped outside. His raptor, a great blue beast with yellow stripes, waited in the communal village stables with the other raptors. Saddling his raptor up, Zaljaf mounted and headed for the gate. The witchdoctor was there waiting for him.

"Zaljaf, wait." The witchdoctor called, running up to him. Zaljaf pulled his mount to a halt. "Your mate. How is she?"

Zaljaf shook his head. "She's being stubborn. I think she hates me." He sighed.

"I noticed she's getting big. Do you need me to send one of my apprentices over to your hut?"

Zaljaf shook his head. "I don't think she's quite ready to give birth yet. But thank you for your concern, witchdoctor. Right now, I think it would be better if everyone just left Antu alone."

"A man shouldn't bow to the whim of his mate."

"I know, witchdoctor. But Antu is stronger than most women. It's best to let her have her way." Giving his raptor a gentle kick, Zaljaf rode out into the jungle.

"Be careful!" The witchdoctor shouted after him. "There's a storm coming!"

Zaljaf ignored the witchdoctor's warning. Summer was Stranglethorn's rainy season anyway. Short thunderstorms battered the cape almost every day. Zaljaf knew how to ride in the rain. Muddy trails and slick vegetation posed no problem for him. Holding tight to his raptor's reins, Zaljaf trotted through the dense, verdant forest. Everywhere, he could hear the sounds of frogs croaking and wild raptors bellowing.

These rides calmed him. He enjoyed them almost as much as he enjoyed working with his hands. Antu still wore the necklace he'd made for her a year ago. Zaljaf took it as the only sign that she still loved him.

His raptor's feet beat a steady rhythm against the ground. Overhead, dark clouds gathered on the horizon. The storm was still far off, a massive pillar of darkness looming out over the sea. Zaljaf ignored the distant roar of thunder, focusing instead on the beat of his raptor's stride. They were deep in the jungle now, far away from the village. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. For a moment, he forgot about Antu and the child in her womb.

All of a sudden, the storm was upon him. Torrents of rain crashed down over his head. The dark clouds blotted out the sun, casting an unnatural darkness over the cape. Zaljaf gasped as the rain struck him. The tiny drops came down in a merciless hail. They felt like a thousand tiny needles on his bare shoulders. In the sudden darkness and wet, his raptor let out a deep bellow. Its feet slipped out from underneath it and it toppled over. A sudden, sharp pain tore through Zaljaf's leg as the raptor hit the ground. He cried out in pain.

The raptor struggled back to its feet. Zaljaf's right foot remained hooked in the stirrup. "No!" He shouted, but the raptor didn't listen. Another bolt of thunder struck. The raptor let out a frightened bellow and took off running, dragging Zaljaf along with it. It didn't slow down, no matter how much he screamed.

By the time he got his leg free of the stirrup, the rain had stopped and Zaljaf was alone in a part of the jungle he'd never seen before. He couldn't even feel his right leg. It was as though someone had cut it clean off.

By the time Zaljaf made it back to the village, Antu had already given birth. She held the baby in her arms as the old witchdoctor treated Zaljaf's leg. With a sigh, the witchdoctor stepped back. When he looked at Zaljaf, the old troll's eyes were filled with unfathomable sadness. "Well?" Zaljaf asked, "Will it heal? When will I be able to walk again?"

The witchdoctor shook his head. "It will be a miracle if you can ever walk again, Zaljaf." He replied. Zaljaf's face fell. "Your leg…well…it's…it's shattered. If I had gotten to you in time, I might have been able to fix it, but…now…"

"I-I…I can't…" Zaljaf stammered, "I can't be a cripple. I…I have a child to take care of."

The witchdoctor shook his head again. "I can do nothing. I'm sorry."

Slowly, Zaljaf turned to look at Antu and his child. The little girl gurgled in her mother's arms. A delicate yellow fuzz covered her small head. "Antu…" He began, gazing pleadingly at his mate. She was wearing the necklace he'd given her.

"I don't want to care for both a baby and an invalid." She replied coldly. Her words struck Zaljaf like a punch to the gut. "You're just a burden now."

Zaljaf reached out to take her hand. She pulled it away from him. "Antu…Antu, how can you say such things? I thought you loved me."

"I thought you loved me too. Then you forced me to have your child." Clutching the baby, she turned and exited the witchdoctor's hut. That was the last Zaljaf ever saw of her.

"She…she left de village aftah dat, mon. Took de kid wif her." Zaljaf concluded. "I nevah saw her or de babeh again. I didn't know if dey was alive or dead. Aftah a few years, I started walkin' again, though everyone said I couldn't. An' den I came ta Orgrimmah. I sorta hoped I'd find her, bu'…aftah a year o' lookin', I finally gave up on 'er." As he finished his story, he looked down at Jenxa. She knelt across from him, her face hidden by the darkness. He couldn't read her expression.

After a few seconds of silence, Jenxa reached out and took his hands. She pressed her palms up against his. His hands were much larger than hers and covered in calluses. "So…" She began, her voice trembling, "So…dat babeh…"

"Was you, mon." Zaljaf finished. "I tink it was you. Yer da right age an'…well, ya look a lot like her now dat I tink about it. Jus' the eyes are different. Ya…ya have me eyes."

Jenxa looked up at him. "H-how…?" She asked quietly. Zaljaf shook his head.

"I dunno, Jenxa. Maybe it was fate." He smiled in the darkness. "Some kind-hearted spirit guided ya back ta me."

Jenxa was very still for a few moments. She looked down at their entwined hands. All of a sudden, she lurched forward and threw her arms around him. Zaljaf hugged her back tightly, rocking her back and forth. "Papa…" She whispered. At the sound of the word, Zaljaf broke down. He wept quietly into Jenxa's hair.