AN: Songs used here are "Just Another Day" by Oingo Boingo and "One Piece At A Time" by Johnny Cash. I am no song writer. Anywho, you can find both of these songs everywhere and I highly recommend them not just for this story but also in general for being awesome songs.

Nogg's machine shop was a mess of oil, tools, sparkplugs, magnets, and half-eaten sandwiches in a three-story tower built next to the pond that marked one end of the Drag. Tamatanga leaned on the bright purple trike Nib work on from underneath its engine, the gray boombox sitting on the hood of the trike blaring its depressing tune sung by some Forsaken circus band Tamatanga never heard of:

When I step out the door

The jungle is alive

I do not trust my ears

I don't believe my eyes

I will not fall in love

I cannot risk the bet

'Cause hearts are fragile toys

So easy to forgeeeee—

"Any sign of Nogg?" Nib shouted over the car and radio. Tamatanga leaned forward and looked out of the stone archway. She squinted from the two spotlights that blazed on even if it was high noon.

"Nope. Nothin' but orcs," she said as she watched the little orc orphans from across the street play ball. Dikasara was not among them.

"Good. If I hear one more car song I'm gonna knock a few skulls."

"Yeah," she said and looked up at the smoked ceiling. "Ya almost done with this?"

"Gettin' there. Then it's on to the next trike. These things are getting too damn popular."

"Think you can build me one and sell it to me wholesale?"

"What are you gonna use it for?"

"To drive."

He scooted from under the car and scratched his blond head with a filthy hand.

"No, no," he said. "I mean, are you just gonna drive around town or goin' off-roading?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, I was just kiddin' around. These things are too damn expensive."

"About as much as a house for a new one, but if you talk to Worthaton I'm sure you can work out a deal for a used trike. Those are guaranteed to explode more than the newer models," he said with a grin.

Tamatanga wasn't smiling.

"You're goin' to settle in Orgrimmar, aren't ya?" Nib asked her—

And just when I think

That things are in their place

The heavens are secure

The whole thing explodes in my fa-a-a-a-a-ace

"Tamatanga?"

She curled a fist and put her forehead to her knuckles.

"The only thing keepin' me here is Fezzrik," she said just loud enough over the music that screeched in their ears. "I was thinkin' that I'll stay here until he returns from his deployment. By then I'll have a better idea of what I want to do for my life, and I should have a good amount of dough too."

There's a golden coin

(It's just another day)

That reflects the sun

(It's just another day)

"What if he gets killed before his deployment's up?"

"Leave sooner."

"You hate this place that much?" he laughed.

There's a place in the stars

(It's just another day)

For when you get old

(It's just another day)

Tamatanga raised an eyebrow. "You wanna stay here forever?"

"As long as I can. Nogg's got shit taste in music but he ain't half bad to work for, I live right above where I work, and there's not a live volcano in sight. This place is paradise," he said and crawled under the trike once more. "You could always go to Azshara. I heard that the gobs are really doing wonders there. It's like they're trying to reboot Kezan."

"Nope, I want to try someplace different. I might give Ratchet a try." She laughed at herself. "Hey, you ever imagine yourself living this long?"

"I hoped I'd be able to live this long."

"Yeah, but did you ever imagine about what or who'd you be if you lived as long as we did?"

"I imagined myself working a relatively stable job that allowed me to stay alive. You?"

"Not really. I never thought I'd live this long. It was dumb luck that got me out of the mines, and it'll be dumb luck that'll bite me in the ass." She took in a breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes closed and she saw the tunnels again that she and so many just like her helped burrow deep into the earth for glowing kaja'mite. She saw the gob known as the Whip, his face saggy with wrinkles and dirt, frazzled white hair clinging in clumps on his spotted scalp. It was his face she saw first, the whip she saw last. Both cracked in unison—

"'Shoulder up and move on,'" Tamatanga quoted.

Nib said nothing.

She continued, "I was standing next to the Whip when the mine collapsed. I ducked under him so his head would be crushed by the rocks instead of mine." Tamatanga stood up and stepped to the center of the cluttered room, her hands in her back pockets of her second-hand red pants that had faded to a sort of pink. "You ever think about the mines?"

"Hey, um, change it back to Nogg's station. I have a feelin' he's going to ambush me and then I'll hear about it for the rest of the day."

"Sure," she sighed and spun the dial back to the old station. What sounded like an elderly male goblin sang with a guitar and piano:

I'd get it one piece at a time

And it wouldn't cost me a dime

You'll know it's me when I come through your to-o-own

I'm gonna ride around in style

I'm gonna drive everybody wild

'Cause I'll have the only one there is around

She left soon after that, Nogg still not having returned, and meandered into the Wyvern's Tail. It being the dinner hour, the tables were full of drinking trolls, goblins, tauren, and a few orcs that the innkeeper ran circles around to keep up with their orders. Tamatanga slipped through the crowd unnoticed and snagged a spot near the end of the bar. She waved to the troll bartender and ordered a light beer and pork pie.

As she nibbled on her savory yet sweet pie, Tamatanga didn't blame Nib for not wanting to talk about the mines; they were an experience she'd like to move on from and forget. Years of ignoring old hurts and memories weren't helping her move on. She needed to talk to somebody, anybody who was willing to listen to her—ok well not to just anybody, but somebody who proved to her to be a trustworthy enough person to not blab her secret thoughts to every gob in the world, and that someone couldn't be her son. Her thoughts went immediately to Mida Silvertongue, whom she got along with every time she had five minutes to talk. The problem was that workaholic Mida Silvertongue rarely had five minutes to shoot the breeze.

"Fancy meeting you here," Dikasara said as she took the stool next to Tamatanga. She called out to the troll, "Gravy, I feel like dyin' in paradise."

The troll cackled before he left the bar and went through a door where Tamatanga assumed was the kitchen. Tamatanga gave Dikasara a side-glance.

"Do I even want to know?" she asked.

The orc laughed, "Oh, you'll see exactly what I mean in a bit. Anyway, I haven't seen you in a few weeks. Everything goin' all right?"

Tamatanga felt Bacon's wet snout sniffing her foot, but ignored it. "Pretty well, all things considered. Fezzrik and I have been writing to each other often enough, but about nothing serious yet." Dikasara's left eyebrow went up and Tamatanga continued, "Fezzrik's my son."

"Oh! So Battlewail was able to help you out?"

"Yeah, in more ways than one." Tamatanga drank a little more of the bitter beer before continuing. "Anyway, thanks for the reference in case I have any parent-related questions."

"No prob. I love playing with kids and being their 'big sister' so to speak, but being a friend and being a parent are two different things, y'know?"

"I guess. I dunno, I never had parents. I guess parents aren't supposed to tell their kids everything, eh?"

Dikasara gave her a sympathetic smile. "Kids don't tell their parents everything either."

It was a good thing that the beer glass Tamatanga squeezed was made of thick glass, or it might have shattered in her hand. "Kids tell their parents most everything, though, right?"

"Most everything, but not everything, either because the kid doesn't want to tell or the parent doesn't want to hear it—" she stopped short when Gravy returned with a plate of charred meat on a small mound of white rice, fried plantains, and green beans in one hand and a tall glass of pineapple juice in the other. Dikasara rubbed her hands together as Gravy served it to her in silence before returning to the bar. Tamatanga could smell the searing spiciness of the meat from where she sat.

"What is that?" Tamatanga asked as Dikasara took a big bite out of the hunk of meat.

"The best jerk raptor in all of Azeroth," the orc manage to say as tears streamed out of her eyes and she laughed. "It'll make you cry with joy and pain."

Tamatanga raised both eyebrows. Dikasara scarfed down a couple more bites before gulping down her pineapple juice. She pointed at a jar of dried bell-shaped red peppers about the size of a goblin's thumb hiding in a shadowy corner of the liquor shelf and said, "Y-You see those? Those aren't sweet peppers, those are Bwomsandi's Breath. Hottest damn pepper in all of Azeroth, and there's got to be a few of them in this one piece of raptor." She hacked a cough and drained her glass. "At first it's just a t-tingle on the tongue and then it just gets worse and worse. Legend has it only Vol'jin can eat it without crying."

Dikasara didn't speak again until she finished the raptor. After she sucked up the last bit of sauce, Gravy put a yellow yogurt drink in her shaking hands that she sipped slowly and let sit in her mouth.

Tamatanga shook her head and laughed, "You are one crazy orc."

The crazy orc swallowed and laughed with her, "Gravy only gives his jerk raptor to people who are crazy enough to finish it." She waved a free hand toward the group of crying trolls that were eating their own jerk raptor. "It is damn good, though, I highly recommend it."

Their conversation continued throughout the rest of dinner and dessert (tahini halva studded with pistachios), but now Dikasara told more of her stories as an adventurer who left her orphanage at fifteen to go and explore Azeroth and beyond with boar in tow.

"You always traveled alone?" Tamatanga interrupted as she scraped up the last of her sweetmeat.

Dikasara paused. "No, I've had Bacon with me."

"I mean, besides Bacon."

"Eh, most of the time, yes, but I prefer it that way. Battlewail and Pakkar don't like it, but that's their problem."

"Pakkar?"

She grinned. "Childhood friend. He's a shaman that won't stick his head one inch out of Orgrimmar, but he's a good guy. I should introduce you two sometime. Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Tamatanga said as she slid out of her chair, her stomach groaning as if it was digesting a cannonball, "and I'd have to introduce Fezzrik to you too."

"I'd be honored."

Dikasara hopped out of her chair and the trio stepped outside into the cool evening. Tamatanga stretched and took in a great gulp of air.

"Well, it was good to see you again, Dikasara," she said and meant it.

The orc nodded. "You too, and call me Dika. It's less of a mouthful. Also, see that apartment over there?" She pointed to the top apartment of a tower carved out of the middle of the drag. "I'm on the top floor, room 13. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to knock. I'm on my 'vacation' so to speak, so you'll most likely find me up there."

Tamatanga scratched her head right in between her three braided pigtails. "Well, you know where I live and work, so in case you need sugar or something you can swing by."

"Great! See you, Tamatanga."

"Bye."

Tamatanga watched the orc and boar strut down the Drag for a moment before pivoting on the ball of her foot and practically skipping back to the slums. It felt good to have a new friend.

TTT

Another couple of weeks passed, and one night after work Tamatanga got a surprise when she entered her tent.

"Fezzrik!" she gasped.

He was still as skinny as ever as he slid off her hammock to greet her, but he was strong enough to lift her off her feet when he hugged her. She laughed and patted the hardened meat of his arms when he put her down. "Looks like all that training wasn't for nothin'. They gave you new clothes too?"

"Nah, the only clothes they give you are the ones you're gonna fight in, and I don't plan on fighting in these," he said as he dusted off the shoulders of his neon green silk shirt. His brown linen pants were properly hemmed and his black boots were still shiny and only slightly creased. "The Alliance would see me a mile away."

Air weighted heavily in Tamatanga's lungs. "Alliance?"

"Yeah. In a week they'll be shipping me off to Ashenvale to gather up some resources for the Horde. Only things in the way are the night elves."

"Oh."

They were silent for a moment before Fezzrik added, "I was planning to spend my week here, if you've got an empty corner for me."

She clapped her hands on his wrists and kept smiling. "Yeah, you can use the canned soup as a pillow. Anyway, I'm starvin'. We can go to the Wyvern's Tail and maybe you can meet a friend of mine there."

"Tomorrow night we can go to the Broken Tusk and you can meet a few friends of mine."

"Sounds good! Let's get goin' before the dinner rush."

They reached the bar in good time and Dika and Bacon were in their usual spot at the bar, but Dika was talking to a male orc dressed in rough woven robes, his square, severe face giving his full attention to Dika. The only handsome thing about him was his slicked topknot of dark titian hair that reached his wide shoulder blades. Tamatanga waved a hand and Dika's sharp eyes caught it.

"Tamatanga!" she called out, breaking away from the other orc's gaze. "Good to see you, take a seat. Who's the fellow with you?"

"My son, Fezzrik," Tamatanga answered as she took a stool next to Dika. "Who's the fella with you?"

"My friend, Pakkar."

Fezzrik bowed his bald head to both the orcs, Pakkar returning the favor. At last Gravy came to them with the first round of drinks. The night ran long with food, booze, and good company (though Pakkar sat as silently as a molding log), but Tamatanga made sure she didn't drink too much tonight. She wanted to remember tonight and to not say anything too stupid.

Once Tamatanga and Fezzrik shuffled home that night, Fezzrik insisted that she take the hammock and he'd sleep on the floor.

"It's somethin' I gotta get used to anyhow," he chuckled as he laid himself down to sleep.

Tamatanga laughed with him, though she cringed in the dark. Why did he always bring up his damn deployment and ruin a good moment?

"Hey, Ma," he whispered.

"Hm?"

Silence, followed by soft snores. He did have more to drink than her, after all. She wiggled around in her hammock until her head was hanging over his, so she could hear him in case he threw up.

The following night followed the same routine, with the only difference being that they ate in the always over-crowded Broken Tusk with Fezzrik's loud friends from training. His friends were mostly orcs, both men and women, but there was also a Forsaken woman with a leather strap bolted over her eye sockets and a tauren bull with a gold ring through his nose. Again, when they returned home she laid over him in case he threw up, and he never did.

The following day Fezzrik went to visit Nib while she worked, her brain foggy with a tension that silently bubbled between her and her son. All this friendly talk was just a band-aid on a broken leg.

Fezzrik didn't return home until late that night when Tamatanga was scraping out the last baked bean out of a can by lantern light.

"Want some beans?"

"I'm full, thanks."

She patted the space next to her on the hammock she sat on. "What were you going to tell me the first night you were here?"

Gingerly Fezzrik sat next to her and leaned back enough for his feet to hang. He folded his hands and stared up at the holey ceiling. "I was gonna ask you about my pop."

The hair on the back of Tamatanga's neck stood up on end, but she kept her voice steady. "What did you want to ask about?"

"Did he leave you?"

She wanted to say "worse" but instead turned to him and said, "I'm sorry, but there's some secrets a mother has to keep from her child."

"Why?"

"It'll burn us both if I tell you." She looked over him again and saw only herself, especially through the hurt in his eyes. "Trust me, Fezz, you're better off not knowing. It'll make you as crazy as your mother."

"You aren't crazy."

"I thought you'd never want to see me again after I disapproved of your career choices because you didn't live under my roof. Any sane person could tell that you'd stick to me like a burr on fur, regardless of what I thought. I've let old fears take control, but I'm gonna put an end to that. Don't worry, I'll still be worrying about you when you're fighting elves."

He let out a weak laugh. They were quiet for a moment, and Fezzrik put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I got bent out of shape when you weren't thrilled about me joining the military. I'll do my best to make sure I get back home alive and in one piece."

"It's all you can do."

"Try not to have a heart attack from all the treasure I'll bring back from my missions, 'k?"

Both of them busted out laughing when the hammock snapped from their weight and the entire tent collapsed on them. They laughed even harder.

TTT

The rest of the week passed by in a flash for Tamatanga, save for Fezzrik's final night home. They had managed to get the tent back up but left the hammock spread out on the floor so they could be next to each other without fear of the tent collapsing again. They went to bed early because Fezzrik had to get up before dawn to run to the barracks and get ready for his deployment. Tamatanga awoke often in the night and watched the dim outline of his chest rise and fall before going back to sleep.

Fezzrik shook her awake when the sky was still dark.

"Hey, I have to go," he whispered.

She sat up and threw her arms around him. He put his forehead to her shoulder and hugged her back, letting her hold his head like when he was a child.

"I love you, I love you, I love you—" she whispered in his wide ear before her throat seized up on her.

"I know you do, Ma. I love you too," he said in her shoulder, his voice shaking.

"I can't watch your back out there, so be careful."

"I will, Ma."

They held onto each other in the glass world of that little tent as morning light gnawed at their final moments together in Orgrimmar. Tamatanga kissed Fezzrik on the head and let him go first. She was, after all, his mother. He kissed her cheek and left the tent without another word.