Finally! I finally found the perfect Winter's Veil gift for Ahka. It took hours and hours of searching, but I'm sure it was worth it just to see the look on his face. In my eagerness, I almost gave it to him early, but he reminded me that I needed to wait.


... I should probably go find gifts for everyone else, shouldn't I?

My short time with Takchawee has lent me into some insight on the nature of parenthood. That is, I have discovered that just because you might have conceived the child, it does not make you the ideal parent to raise that child. The stories I hear from T'wee are horrendous at best - not the rearing of the calves, nor the birth itself, but the decisions of her calves so-called "father". I cannot say that I whole-heartedly agree with Takchawee's decisions on her role as a mother, but from what I heard this morning, it makes my mind boggle to imagine why, for Earth mother's sake, she would leave her two calves in the paws of Ambershanks.

Perhaps I am only hearing a biased explanation. That I have considered. But if what she says is true, I will consider revoking my oath on staying my strength in harm from another Tauren. To take calves that have barely even thought of walking into the Caverns of Time.... what insanity could drive anyone to do such a horrible thing to their offspring? The Caverns are a mess of twisting time-lines and causalities, each thread of destiny so tightly interwoven with another that the slightest tug in the wrong direction could unravel all of existence! My few ventures into the Caverns had always wrought me with splitting headaches - I am uncertain what effect such a journey would have on two newborn calves, but it cannot be anything short of disasterous.  I do not know how the Bronze Dragonflight would even begin to consider to allow such a thing to occur, either. The whole situation reeks of tragedy. Nothing good can come from it.

I have spurred Takchawee to attempt to rekindle her passion to protect her calves. Though I offered my support, I do not believe it is my place to directly interfere with her dealings with Ambershanks.

Parenthood is a frightening concept. I can only hope and pray that, when the day comes that I might conceive a child for Ahka, our lives will not be as devastated with foolishness.

For all the bitter cold and inhospitable weather in Winterspring, the hot springs there are something of amazement. Truly, a perfect retreat to cleanse away the harshness of battle and purge the pain of recovering wounds. At first, I was a little worried when I found Ahka's note, saying that he had gone off to the springs by himself; his broken bones were still mending and I feared that he might not have had the strength to remain on the wyverns that carried him on their wings to that icy veil. But, as I watched him in the steamy waters, wading about in complete content, all of my fears were relieved.

We spent the rest of the night there, enjoying the warmth of the hot springs, but mostly the comfort of each other's company, alone amidst nothing but snow and tree. Ahka apologized for 'having doubts about us', but I believe he knew that he would have been forgiven the moment the words left his lips. The doubts were seeds I had sewn; it was a relief to know that they had been plucked before they had a chance to take root.


<There is a break in the entry here, a few doodles and nonsensical sketches providing filler between coherent thoughts. It was as if the writer was lost in thought.>


What was that oil Ahka combed into my fur? It smells wonderful. I need to pester him about it later.

I suppose miracles can happen.

Last night, as I reflect upon it, was perhaps the best, truly fulfilling night I have had in weeks. Takchawee, Ahka and I shared stories, jokes, quips and enough drink to drown a small village of gnomes - I should really take to heart when the barkeep says that the bottle is "Tauren-sized", they really mean "Tauren-sized". I can handle my drink with relative ease, as can Takchawee (T'wee, as I call her now - so cute!), but poor Ahka was stumbling and blubbering the entire way back to the tent. Is there anyway that bull can make himself more adorable? If there was, I think I surely be overwhelmed and melt on the spot. With T'wee's help, we carted him back to the comfort of our tent and curled up for the rest of the night, something that I could easily get accustomed to.

Among our sleepy talks, T'wee finally opened up - I think she caught Ahka by surprise by admitting she loved us. I can attest that such feelings are not easily spoken, but T'wee did so with conviction, offering a glimpse into her vulnerable, tender heart that I truly believe held no hidden intents. She truly loves us. Ahka as much as myself. The concept is difficult to imagine, but somehow, perhaps because I am the one experiencing it, it is so simple to understand. Tauren culture has never seemed to be a monogamous one; I often see bulls of importance and high stature with several mates, fathering many calves to bolster their tribes. Yet ... I have yet to see a tribe that, at its head, had two females. Admittedly, I am curious to see what the elders might have to say - will they vehemently object? And if so, will I even care?

Probably not. If such a thing is a burden to the loosely established "culture" that my Tauren people seem so intent to keep in secrecy, then I will gladly take my family to greener pastures and better hunts, such as our ancestors always did. I have taken a liking to Nagrand. The Mag'thar are an honorable group of Orc and I am certain they would welcome a tribe of strong, thorium-willed Tauren into their lands. Demons encroach on their ancestoral grounds - this time, I am strong enough to not only stave off those detestable abominations, but with Ahka and T'wee, I am certain we can purge those damnable cretins from blighting the land of Nagrand like they did to Desolace.

Hmmn, T'wee and Ahka are waking. Thankfully, our breakfast is almost done cooking. I must go.

There are few times I felt more pathetic than I felt last night. Constantly lying to the two that I had opened my body and soul to - to Takchawee, I hid the true reason of Ahka's condition. I am sure that, if she were to have known, I would have never seen her again. To Ahka, I lied that I was emotionally stable, that I was there purely for his support. In truth, I wanted them both there just so that I would not go mad with guilt - I wanted to start over, to try and erase the mistakes I had made that hurt Ahka so fiercely.

I had hoped that sharing my food and my mead would melt the ice between Ahka and Takchawee. The two of them could easily get along, that much I could see - but Ahka was obviously discomforted, with good reason. I felt so pathetic asking him to accept Takchawee, even after what he had gone through. Each time I encouraged him to get closer, act friendlier, I felt myself become sick at how selfish I was being. He said that he would always forgive me, no matter what - but I have yet to forgive myself. I pray that something might happen, some miracle, that would cleanse this stain on my conscience, but such wishes are nothing but more selfishness; I must endure the consequences of what I have done, pray that I might have learned to make better judgements, and hope that Ahka and Takchawee can see each other the way I see them.

I do not know what plagues Ahka, though. All through the night, his body was wracked with horrible shaking and spasming. He did not seem to want to divulge just what he had done to himself, but for it to be effecting him so, it tears my heart into pieces. His teeth chatter, his muscles act on their own accord; I had no sleep last night, having kept myself awake, though my eyes were closed, just to ensure that he had no symptoms worse than what he fell asleep with. At least, I hope he slept. I am used to having no sleep - a single restless night is trivial to me. But to endure the night next to my mate as he shivered, convulsed, spoke nonsense... it was all I could do to keep myself from weeping in shame. This is what happens when I act too rashly. I do not suffer nearly as much as my loved ones do. Earth mother as my witness, I am so sorry, my love.

I almost lost him again. Because of my own stupidity, I nearly lost Ahka yet again.

It took me hours to track him down, having to wade through dozens of demon-worshiping cultists who had already been put on edge by Ahka's uninvited arrival. When I found him, I wanted to cry - not because of my happiness in finding him, but because of my sadness of discovering just what my actions had done to him. I have never felt so sick in my life. I do not remember how long it took me to get him to even recognize me; his mind had reverted to that of a feral beast, I still have left the wound that he accidentely scarred my right arm with, for it will be my personal reminder of my idiocy. Out of some miracle, he came around and I was able to treat some of his more serious wounds, though the demonic rune energies he had willingly consumed proved to make his recovery quite hindered. Earth mother damn me, for I am such an idiot. My eagerness to accept Takchawee as a lover nearly cost me the one I love most.

Thankfully, I was able to carry Ahka back to Thunder Bluff with little resistance. The cultists seemed happy to watch me leave, taking Ahka with me, and gave little uproar to me walking through their unholy grounds so long as I was leaving. I believe the majority were still tending to the wounded I left in my path while searching for Ahka. It wasn't soon after that I had placed Ahka in my tent to rest and went to purchase various herbs and medicinal supplies from the mesa that I came across Takchawee, sitting outside my tent, greviously wounded and quite drunk.

Earth mother save me, I suppose it was my penance to tend to my wounded family this night. Thankfully, I convinced Takchawee to lower her voice so that she would not wake Ahka while I treated her wounds, some of which must have causing her unmeasurable amounts of pain. Surprisingly, after she had sobered up faintly, she began to tell me a little of her past, on the unspeakable tragedies that befell whatever family she had. It is surprising, how similar she and I are. I will tell her of my own tortured past another night, for she was obviously in need of comfort and security, not a contest of misery. I can only hope that, in the morning, Ahka will be understanding of why Takchawee and I are leaning on each other while we sleep. I would so love to share his warmth as well, but his wounds are too severe and tainted for me to afford any risk of aggravating them in the night.

It has been nearly half a day since I departed my tent in search of Ahka. I have taken his satchel with me, though I slightly regret not having the forethought to wake Takchawee and tell her where I was going. After our heartfelt love making the night before, I did not want to immediately have her worry. She is a strong taureness, but I must remember she is also a mother - I cannot allow her to split her attention over something that I should be able to take on myself. After examining Ahka's pouch and conversing with the Bluffwatchers, it seems that Ahka entered Thunder Bluff the night before, but was not seen exiting; his pouch is undamaged and I could find no sign of any sort of struggle outside my tent, where it was found.

He left of his own volition. I can only speculate at his motives, but I still fear the worse. Perhaps he saw Takchawee and I, embraced in passion - I know embarrassingly little about Ahka's emotions, it seems. One day, he is practically telling me that to mate with another is perfectly fine, now he flees and hides at the sight of his mate enjoying the intimate company of another female. It seems that in order for him to be mad with me, I have to beat him to within an inch of his life! Not that I ever would, but the temptation is there.

Looking through his meager possessions, I found little to help me in my search for him. So I am forced to rely on what little tracking skills I had learned from my hunter companions and from surviving on my own - a slender brown feather was all I found that I recognized Ahka's scent on, which made my task infinitely more difficult. Only one Bluffwatcher saw such a bird fly out of Thunder Bluff last night, but due to the darkness of night, they gave me very little information. It seems I must track Ahka by my instinct alone.

Where are you, my love?

Last night. The smell of Takchawee still permeates my fur, the taste of her body still lingers on my tongue. It was a night I will not soon forget never forget, a night where I welcomed such an amazingly gorgeous taureness to share my body and my very essence of being. I feel no regret, I feel nothing but wonderful feelings whenever I think of her. Perhaps the only thing I wish that could have been different about last night was that I wish Ahka could have been there to share such a bond. I ...

<The entry pauses here, a light scratch of ink left where words might have been, but the writer seems to have dropped their quill. The following entries are written in quick, scrawling script, as if written by a nervous hand.>

How could I forget the satchel? I remember seeing it last night, but my mind had wandered away from it because of Takchawee. As I look through its belongings, I recognize that it belongs to Ahka. This worries me to no end - what does it mean? Was he here? Did some twisted fool kidnap him and lay his pack at my tent, taunting me? I do not recall him ever leaving his artwork behind, even while on the hunt. I must go. I fear the worst - and Earth mother have mercy for whomever might have taken Ahka away from me, for I will definitely not.

I have never had such a fulfilling night's rest in my entire life before today.

Over a year ago, I had been told by an elder druid in the Mojache village that ever since the tragedy that had befallen my tribe, I have never had a single night's peaceful slumber. It was hard to admit to, but it was true; even now I am still plagued by horrific nightmares, constant yet always changing visions of the gruesome slaughter of my fallen Thundermoon kin. No matter how much I steel my nerves, how much I harden my resolve with battle after battle, the sights of my childhood family being decimated in such ... never mind. I do not wish to write further on this, for I have better things to reminisce.

Specifically, Takchawee and Ahka. It was an enormous weight off my heart to find the two get along so well; though I would unquestionably side with my mate should the worse occur, I would box his ears if he disapproved of my newfound friendship with the beautiful Stormhoof. Thankfully (for me and him), Ahka seemed to get along rather nicely with Takchawee, even surprising me by carving her a delicate jade figurine of a sea turtle for her. It made me smile for hours, since I remember that Ahka once carved a figurine for me as well, long ago when we met under the stars of ... oh, what was the name? Bah, curse this wandering memory of mine. Mor'shan Rampart! Yes, between there and Ashenvale. I think that is when he gave it to me. Or was it one night in Thunder Bluff? Bah, I suppose this is what years of nightmare induced insomnia will do, not to mention the years of acting the shield for my Clan. Still, I cherish the tiny jade whelp Ahka carved for me, keeping it with me always. Perhaps it is merely his way of accepting a close, personal relationship with another.

I can only dream of having two close relationships, that of with my mate Ahka and of with Takchawee Stormhoof. Ahka told me of tribes that choose to love one and mate with another, but I wonder.. can I love both Ahka and Takchawee? I admit both are exceptionally attractive, both physically and emotionally to me, but will such a bond be shared by them, let alone accepted? Perhaps I am thinking too far ahead - Takchawee and I have only just met, yet our emotions flare in the same directions, much like it was for myself and Ahka when we first met. I am apprehensive yet curious, fearful yet eager. Will I gain something I had only fantasized about, or will I lose all that I hold dear?

It is always so depressing to share your feelings with someone, to bare your very heart and soul, only to find that they do not share those feelings at all. I am embarrassed even to write this down here, so I suppose I will make this the shorter portion of my journal this gloomy, rainy morning. In a way, however, I am relieved - reflecting on it now, there are just so many differences between myself and Samhuinn that I believe that had things transgressed any further, I would more than likely have broken parts of his face rather than just the ties between us.

The Earth mother be praised I was so lucky to find Ahka again later on that evening. I hate the fact that I have grown to be dependent on him to stabilize my emotions, but I cannot help but be driven mad with depression and loneliness when he is off on the hunt for so long. I was partially afraid that my talk of raising a family would frighten him off yet again, but he surprised me yet again with his calm, sensible eagerness. It is too soon for me to raise calves, I know - the call for my shield is stronger than before, now that our Clan has proven itself yet again to the Horde by defeating the detestable Magtheridon. The depths of the Nagas' Coilfang Reservoir require my utmost attention and strength; I cannot allow myself to falter for a second, less I bare the responsibility of countless lives lost in a watery tomb.

And yet, even though I may not be able to afford myself the challenge of parenthood, there is a way I can still have my family grow. It is difficult for me to befriend others - many times I see strangers as untrustworthy and dishonorable. Yet, just yesterday, fate perchanced me to meet a rather ... peculiar Tauren by the name Takchawee. She reminds me so much of myself, I am startled to believe that I had not been mistaken for her by my superiors in the Horde forces. Granted, it is probably due to the single fact that we do not look alike - her pelt is a soft, cloudy gray whereas mine is black as midnight - but we are alike in so many ways. It is rare near impossible to bear witness to such a thing. Even though I am told she is the mother of two, her grace and beauty hold no bounds, especially as she wards off countless opponents with ease. I hope that sometime, the two of us could become friends. Earth mother knows that they are so rare to find.

By the Earth Mother, I wanted to punch him so badly. But doing so would have defeated the entire point I was trying to make.

I think the next time I see him, I will just greet him with a bruised jaw. There might be little point in it, but damn it, I would feel so much better and perhaps it would knock some sense into that foolishly thick skull of his. I swear half of the things he says are meant to drive me away and nothing angers me more than that.


Rrrgh. Damn males. I am so glad Ahka seems to be the exception to the norm.

It has been well over a week since I have seen the lands of Azeroth. My duties to my clan and to the Horde have driven me to reside in the Outlands for quite some time - though I have a homesickness for Mulgore and its green pastures, the land known as Nagrand seems to call out to me, beckoning me to stay. Ahka has often spoke of it, though in hushed tones as if afraid to offend me if he were to suggest that I abandon Desolace. Perhaps ... it is time I did abandon Desolace  I should move on. I was so proud of the stories my father told me, on how our tribe was one of the few that was able to attain a permanent home, self sustaining and without need of the constant migration our ancestors always had to endure. No sooner was that sense of pride instilled in me then came the time that it was stripped away in one single, bloody night.

I will continue to visit the grave of my mother - it seems to be the only portion of the entire region of Desolace where grass continues to grow. The beasts of the land appear to respect her grave as well; father always spoke of how powerful mother was - I suppose that strength persists even through death for her. I can only pray that I have developed a fraction of that strength.

Nagrand is a land beset with constant war and conflict, but it is a lush, vibrant land that thrives and survives through every day of violence and suffering. Maybe ... it would not be so bad of a place to call home.

As a warrior, I have overcome many challenges. I have faced down colossal monsters, towering dragons, ancient Gods of forgotten civilizations, demons and wizards. Through my strength and the strength lent to me by my countless allies, these opponents have all fallen beneath my hooves, crushed and belittled to the point that meeting them again only requires a paltry amount of effort.

However, I have my weaknesses.

I am told that I am cursed. Or, in the very least, someone or something has taken it upon themselves to inflict agony to my dreams, making it near impossible for me to rest, as well as driving me into an uncontrollable bloodlust should my will waiver. The nightmares, I have become accustomed to - thankfully, when I fall asleep in the sheltering arms of Ahka, the nightmares give me reprieve and I am allowed to sleep undisturbed. The bloodlust ... it frightens me. Where most warriors find pride in their ability to rend destruction into the fields of their enemies, I cannot see anything but arrogance in their boasting; there was a philosophy spoken to me once on how there are Creators and Destroyers in this world, nothing more. But I have never seen myself as either - I prefer the role of the Protector, shielding the Creators from the Destroyers so that more beauty can be brought into existence. When I lose that role and become a Destroyer, I fear that I might harm or kill one that took upon the role of Creator. It is why I fled over a year ago, but Ahka has reminded me that self-isolation is just another form of destruction.

Another weakness, one that I hate more than anything...


Several small blotches of ink stain the paper here, as if the writer was considering omitting the following entry.


... I am very ticklish. Gods help me, if Ahka starts tickling me one more time, I will have his hide. The oaf. How I love him.

Some times, the most painful words are the ones that had no intention on hurting you at all. They come from out of nowhere, catch you off guard, let you see the true intentions of the one that delivered them to you. I have built myself to withstand physical pain, mental anguish and torture, but a stab at my emotions still finds me naked and vunerable. Even if it was unintentional, even if I knew that they meant nothing by it, I cannot help but feel hurt.

Then again, perhaps I am to blame as well. Were my actions being misinterpreted? Was I overstepping my boundries yet again? I have often been called a Zhevra amongst horses when it comes to my people - I know rather little of typical Tauren customs and expectations, or at least, I only know that of what little I was taught when I was younger. I suppose that I am grasping at straws in the dark when it comes to relations with those I hold close; perhaps it is best to merely hold onto the one straw I have with all my heart.

The following words are rather erratically written, with the occasional blot of ink marring the parchment.

Why ... why would there be a holiday conc didik ded-eh-kay-ted to alcohol? Why now?...

I was doing so well...

Didn't drink a drop after Ahka returned...

Now it is back in my veins. O Earth mother.. what -- The rest of this sentence is covered by an ink blotch.

Might as well ... have another.

The lower portion of the paper is smeared in patches of dampness, the stench of alcohol permeating it.

They say that there are three words that can overwhelm your senses and make you feel as though you were the center of the entire universe for one brief, glimmering moment. Most claim that these three words are "I love you", but I say that they are two-thirds correct. "I forgive you". Those words I had been longing to hear for so long, always fearing the possibility that I would never hear them from the one I had wronged so badly. Though I wasn't expecting him to say he no longer loved me, I would not have been surprised if he had - he is an incredibly handsome bull and I was partly shocked to see there weren't females eager for his attention during the year I was gone. But all I wanted, all I prayed for, was that would be able to forgive me.

He did. Earth Mother preserve me, he did.

Sometimes, I do not believe I deserve such a mate as Ahka. He is stronger than I am in so many ways. Though I know he had a troubled past, filled with violence, bloodshed and atrocities, he shows a kind, compassionate soul that I could barely compare to. Hopefully, I can nourish that soul until he would no longer have to live with the burdens of his past. I know that I owe him at least that much.

The following words are written in Taurahe, in a smooth yet firm penmanship.

Odd inventions, these are. A mere quill dipped in ink and a collection of parchment, bound by thin straps of scrap leather - I never viewed myself as the literary type, though  I was taught well enough by my father how to read and write. Orcish is still rather difficult for me to speak, let alone write, but with a little help, I've been making some progress. Since this is supposed to be a 'journal', as I was told by my guild Chief, I am supposed to write on these pages whenever I feel like, but he recommended I do it often.

Seems rather silly to me.

Regardless, Thorgrun instructed me that the process is supposedly 'theraputic' and would help with these bursts of rage I keep having. How this works, I have no idea, but he hasn't led me wrong yet. It still seems silly, though.

When I have anything worthwhile to write down, I believe I'll put it here - my memory is spotty enough as it is, maybe this will help me retain some of it. Who knows?