3
"I do not understand why you have lost your faith," Grom said. "You were willing enough to go with us to liberate the internment camps. You even asked me to take your oldest children with me so they could see how the Warsong clan fights."
"That was different. You were leading them. Doomhammer was leading us. I can't say I was friends with Orgrim Doomhammer, but I've seen him enough to know he could get things done. He knew how to win. What does this child know of battles?"
"What do I know of battles?" asked a deep voice behind her. "The humans started training me as a gladiator almost as soon as I could walk. And I know you were there when I bested Doomhammer in single combat. Do you think he asked me to be his second in command for no reason?"
Sync turned to see black plate armor - Doomhammer's armor - now adorning the underage boy who called himself warchief. She frowned. Even in the moonlight, it was obvious that the armor did not lay quite right across Thrall's broad shoulders. "We are talking of battles, not single combat. It is different. It was easy to destroy those first internment camps because they did not know we were coming. But now they have figured it out, and they will be waiting for us. You saw what they did tonight. They killed Doomhammer."
"I am aware of that." Thrall stood calm. "But I lived with humans. I fought with them in the ring. I know what they are like."
"It is not the same as leading an army."
"True," Thrall conceded. "But I have been with you as we've freed these internment camps. And I will rely on advice from those who are older and wiser than I, such as Grom Hellscream."
Sync turned her back on him, folding her arms across her chest. "Bah. This child has no place being a warchief. I could tear him apart before he could catch his breath."
Grom rubbed his tattooed jaw, trying to disguise a smile. "I might point out that 'child' is three times your size and less than half your age."
"Bah," she said again. "Size means very little, and my age gives me experience he lacks. You have seen me defeat warriors before."
Grom could no longer hide his smile. "The first time I ever saw this one, she tried to bite me," he told Thrall.
"I have great respect for the fearlessness and strength of the Warsong. I would never willingly challenge one to a fight," Thrall said. "Even one as small as this."
Sync whirled around, snarling. "You bend down here, and I'll slap your face for saying that."
Thrall regarded her evenly. "I will take it back, Sync, if you will tell me why you have such doubts about me being warchief. It is Sync, isn't it?"
"You have lived with us all winter, and still you do not know my name?" she asked incredulously.
"Half the clan calls you Mother. I was not certain you had another name."
She growled. "My name is Shaethe. They call me Unsyncable partly because Grom tried to drown me when I was a child."
"You did that to her?" Thrall sounded surprised.
"That's a story for another day," said Grom. "And no, I didn't."
"You mean you couldn't," Sync corrected. "Don't deny it, it was your idea to cross that river."
"I knew you would make it," Grom said. "I gave you a chance to swim that river, and you did. Now I'm going to give Thrall a chance to swim his own river, and I know he will make it, too."
"But I swam alone," Sync replied. "I did not take anyone with me."