Thunder Bluff, during the Blood War

The spring rains had come to Mulgore and showers of it swept across the rolling hills in the night. It was a good rain. The kind that would soak into the earth and waken it to green life. The steady drum of it on the roof of the High Chieftain's lodge on Thunder Bluff gave him a sense of peace and security for his land and his people.

He clung to that feeling, because there wasn't much of either in the world at the moment.

Baine Bloodhoof, High Chieftain of the tauren, lay stretched out on his back on his sleeping furs staring up at the ceiling and listening to the rain. Jama was curled against his side, one arm thrown over him and her muzzle resting on his chest. Her eyes were closed but he didn't think she was asleep yet. He was idly stroking a hand over her mane and down her back and he felt her shift a bit, arching ever so slightly into his touch like a cat. Another minute and she'd start purring, he thought with amusement.

His fingers traced the ladderwork of ragged scars that marred the fur all down her back. The product of a truly wretched instrument of torture called a bone whip, created by the mogu and put to use by Garrosh Hellscream. Her back had healed with no permanent damage but the scars- both physical and emotional -would always be there.

They weren't the only ones his dark huntress had taken for the good of the Horde. Nor, he was terribly certain, would they be the last.

Baine pulled his thoughts off that path. That was past and future and all that mattered at the moment was now. She was here with him, they were safe for now and that had to be enough. He must have tensed or made some kind of move because Jama opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him questioningly. He shook his head, drawing her to him, pressing his muzzle against the sweet spot just below her ear and smiling when he felt her shiver in response. The fur there was silky to the touch and her scent filled his senses: soft musk and night wind, the scent of the wilds in the moonlight. "When do you have to report to Ogrimmar?" he murmured.

"Late morning at the least."

"And you still don't know what this is all about?"

"Of course not. It's going to physically pain Blightcaller to yank the stick out of his ass and actually tell me what I'm risking my neck for this time around."

"Jama." He tugged on her ear lightly in reprimand but she could feel him fighting back laughter.

She shrugged and leaned across him to grab the wineskin next to the furs. She took a long drink and handed it to him. "Let him be secretive, that's what I say. It helps him feel like he's worth something when he's not chained to the Warchief's bed."

"Jama."

"Literally, from what I've heard"

"Jama." Baine took a deep pull from the wineskin. "I didn't need that image in my head."

"If I'm going to suffer..." She watched him, her eyes gleaming mischievously. But she showed mercy and waited until he'd set the skin aside and wouldn't choke before grinning wickedly and adding: "It could be worse. Imagine what it was like before he had that pretty new face of his."

Baine growled at her and dragged her down beside him. "Go to sleep, you little witch, you'll need it tomorrow."

Jama laughed and curled against him again.

"I almost feel sorry for Blightcaller, having to deal with you."

"No you don't," she said, unperturbed.

"I don't," he admitted. "If dealing with you was the only thing I had to do, it would be paradise."

Jama nuzzled his shoulder, making a pleased sound low in her throat. He stroked her mane. "Mayla told me Lasan Skyhorn was called to Ogrimmar."

"Lasan? Really?" She considered that, her ears flicking. "I wonder if he's involved...this is getting interesting..."

"I hope he is. I'd feel better if you had more tauren around you. Petty, but I can't help it." Also he'd seen Lasan Skyhorn fight and knew he was fond of Jama, which meant he'd look out for her.

"I wouldn't mind it myself. I can't promise I'll be all right but I will be careful. If they're calling me in as a champion of the Horde, I'll do whatever is needed. For the honor of the Horde."

"Jama, of that I never had a doubt." Baine swore to himself that if he accomplished nothing else in his life, one day he would make her understand she didn't need to doubt it either.

They fell silent for a long while, letting the sound of the rain fill the room again. Baine thought she'd drifted off when she spoke again, her voice very quiet. "Baine?"

"Hm?"

She laid a hand on his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. "I love you."

He stilled beneath her hand and looked at her. She kept her eyes down, her ears flat against her head and a audible tremor in her voice. "With everything in me. Every breath, every beat of my heart is yours. I don't remember a time when it wasn't."

Baine wrapped his arms around her, unable to speak for a moment because she'd never said those words out loud. She showed it in a hundred different ways but expressing herself out loud, laying her heart on the line first, making herself vulnerable were all things that not only didn't come naturally but had been practically beaten out of her by her family and tribe. He knew how hard it was for her, even now she couldn't make herself look at him. He finally said the only thing he possibly could: "That's good to hear, sweet one, because I love you too."

Jama finally raised her gaze to his and Baine cradled her face in one hand, looking into her eyes. Earth Mother, those eyes...sometimes he thought she held every secret and sorrow of the world in that fathomless gaze. From any distance they looked as black as the rest of her, it was only when he was this close that the dim light of the brazier picked up on the brown, lightening them slightly. Now joy lit them up. Jama smiled and turned her face into his touch, murmuring his name.

"I have something for you," he said. "I've been trying to find the right time to give it to you and I think that's now." He ran a finger over the line of her right ear, tracing the line of silver ear hoops until he reached the one closest to her head. "It would look best here, I think." He brushed the stub where her horn had been on that side of her head as he pulled away and rose. Jama sat back and watched him, her ears pricked and her head cocked curiously.

He returned and sat beside her with a small wooden box that seemed even tinier in his massive hands. "I went to your friend Rhaspidy." He'd written the blood elf for it because she'd made most of Jama's jewelry including the torc that was always around her throat and the jade rings that decorated her remaining horn. Rhaspidy's ecstatic reaction to his request and enthusiasm in working on designs had told him he'd made the right choice even before he'd seen how fine her work had been.

Jama opened the box and drew out an ear stud, settling it in the palm of her hand as she studied it. It was a long oval of simple gold with a carefully shaped and preserved piece of wood forming the center and ringed with a thin band of moonstone, one of her favored stones. Even more than that, against the gold it represented the sun and the moon- An'she and Mu'sha -which was entirely fitting. Jama ran her finger over the wood in the center, tracing the rune carved into it. "Hope," she murmured, translating it.

"It's a piece of the Runespear."

Her head came up, her eyes going wide with shock. "The...your father's..."

"Yes, that one." He gave her a half smile. "Most of it was burned on his pyre but a few splinters were kept."

"Baine..." Jama cradled the stud between her hands.

"It would look good here, I think," he repeated, touching the same ear hoop.

Jama's hand closed over stud and she cradled it against her heart for a moment, just looking at him with tears swimming in her eyes. She reached up and took out the ear hoop, carefully replacing it with the stud. It stood out warmly against her black fur.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I...Baine, I don't have the words..." The tears were trailing from her eyes now and he drew her close, resting his muzzle against hers lightly. Her arms came up around him and she held onto him tightly.

"You would have confounded my father at first but he would have seen the same things in you I do," he said with a soft rumble in his voice.

She looked hopeful. "Even though I'm...?"

"The exile of Magatha's tribe she could never control or even particularly influence? Oh, yes, Jama. Mind you, he'd never show how much he enjoyed how infuriated it makes the Elder Crone but he would have enjoyed it immensely. Probably is, if he's watching over us."

Jama laughed softly. "I love you, Baine."

He laid down again, cradling her close and drawing her hand up so it rested over his heart. "My dark huntress...my love."

Baine stirred, drawn out of memories by footsteps in the corridor and moved to hide the object he'd been studying in the palm of his hand. He didn't think they'd bother to take it even if they saw it. Certainly Sylvanas or Blightcaller would look at it and see nothing of worth. It was a long piece of ivory from a yak horn cut roughly into a totem shaped like a tiger. At least...it was supposed to be a tiger. The workmanship was so awful it looked like random features in a shape one could vaguely make out as cat like only if you studied it for a long while. Attached to the top and wrapped around it was a thin braid of hair with a bead of jade woven into it, hair so black when he turned it the right way the dim light filtering into the cell caught sparks of blue in its strands.

He often teased Jama that her love for embellishment and drama- which she denied having -showed most clearly in the fact she liked to weave the forelocks of her mane into many small braids instead of two large ones, the better to weave in beads, shells, feathers and charms.

In times of peace she sometimes had so many they clattered together when she walked. In times of fighting she usually only had a few jade beads like this one.

"They call it a luckydo," Jama said, twisting her hands together, her tail swishing. "Luck plays a huge part in the grummels' culture. I never really figured out how to tell when a thing or a person was a luckydo, now that I think about it."

"Well, obviously you were a luckydo since you single handedly saved The Burlap Trail," Baine said with amusement as he studied the carving.

"I didn't really..."

"I made it a point to hear everything about your actions in Pandaria, Jama. I know perfectly well that you really." He smiled at her. The fact she was flustered and nervous around him didn't bother him anymore now that he knew the reason for it.

"Well, at any rate, one of them tried to copy the yaungol's totems in the shape of Xuen as a gift. It's always brought me luck, so...I wanted you to have it." She watched him anxiously.

Ah, Jama. Didn't she realize even if it had been the ugliest thing in existence he would have treasured it simply because she'd given it to him? He trailed his thumb over the braid wrapped around it. "And this was a personal addition?"

She smiled a bit shyly. "A token."

He pressed it against his snout, breathing in the scent of her still clinging to that braid. "Beloved, I couldn't be more honored."

"Ready to beg for forgiveness, yet?" Baine looked up to find one of Sylvanas's dark rangers peering in through the barred window in the door, smirking at him.

Not from Sylvanas, he thought but didn't say out loud. An image of Jama staring up at him with stunned disbelief came to his mind, paining him. He'd plead for her forgiveness for the rest of his life if he was given the chance. Jama, Jama, I had to. I had to. She would have tried to defend him. She wouldn't have been able to stop herself. She would have ended up in here as well...or dead. The thought was unbearable.

The ranger spoke again, her voice hard. "You'll be happy to know your...mate...doesn't know about loyalty any more than you do. We will find her."

Baine sighed. "Got away from you, did she?" A part of him had hoped that hard edged practicality that had served the Horde so very well would win out and she'd be able to wait it out but he'd known in his heart she wouldn't be able to tolerate pretending to champion Sylvanas anymore, not with him added to the balance. They'd been pushing her to the edge almost as hard as they'd been pushing him, had been from the moment Sylvanas had betrayed Saurfang. This had been the final push.

"She called the Warchief the Lich Queen to her face!" the ranger snapped, outraged.

Baine snorted with laughter, unable to help it. "Of course she did." The ranger's face darkened with wrath but a new voice said something from outside the cell. She glanced over and disappeared from the window, replaced a few moments later with the face of Nathanos Blightcaller. The Champion of the Banshee Queen stared at him in silent contempt. Baine met that gaze, impassive. He didn't care what Blightcaller thought about anything. "Lich Queen, eh? I would have thought she'd prefer that to Garrosh With Tits." Jama hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly who had come up with that one but the Alliance soldiers were rolling with it at full speed. They even had songs.

He was also fairly certain Jama, who found that hilarious, had been subtly encouraging it.

Blightcaller's brow furrowed, anger flashing though his glowing eyes for a moment before he controlled himself. "You still claim she didn't help you?"

"She knew nothing," Baine repeated firmly. "I lied to her about it as a matter of fact, and kept her from coming with me when summoned. She probably wants to kill me even more than you do." The tauren chieftain's tone was mild but as it had when he'd first said that, there was sorrow and regret riding under his words. Neither the Warchief or Blightcaller- or any of the leaders present - had missed the fact the only sign of regret Baine Bloodhoof had shown was not for betraying the Horde but lying to Jama.

"Do you know where she'd go? It will go much easier on the former Speaker of the Horde if she's found quickly."

Baine highly doubted the 'former' part, at least as far as Talanji was concerned, but kept his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted was to send any more trouble the newly crowned queen's way.

"My Queen might be inclined to spare her life if we bring her in before she can get to her Alliance allies," Blightcaller added, his voice hard.

"You won't find her," Baine stated. If Blightcaller and Sylvanas truly thought Jama would turn to the Alliance it simply confirmed that she understood them a great deal better than they understood her. No, Jama might turn to her friends but she wouldn't go the Alliance itself. He suspected she would probably hide herself among the Blackwater Raiders and was certain eventually she would go looking for Lord Saurfang.

He thought all of this and said none of it, because his dark huntress needed every advantage she could get right now but he truly didn't believe they would be able to track her down. He stared at Blightcaller and shook his head slowly. "You won't find her."

Blightcaller sneered at him and stepped away from the door without another word.

Baine closed his fingers around the luckydo again and leaned his head back against the wall, taking comfort in the familiar feel of it because he needed all the luck he could get right now.