Page 4 of The Orc's Protection
As we sing our good morning song, I catch Vraag watching with fascination. His expression is respectful, intent—like he’s memorizing a world he doesn’t want to break. The thought makes me smile.
By midmorning, my class has mostly stopped staring at him. Mostly. During math centers, Lily holds up her drawing for my approval—a row of stick figures in front of a building, one of them green and roughly twice the height of the others. The proportions are accurate. I show it to Vraag on my way past.
He studies it for a moment. "She included my tusks."
"She noticed everything," I say. "They all did."
Something in his expression shifts, not quite pleased, but close to it. He hands the drawing back with the same care he uses for everything in this classroom.
One of the boys raises his hand during circle time. "Mr. Vraag, do you know karate?"
"StoneWatch combat training differs from—" He stops. I give him the smallest headshake. "I know how to protect people without hurting anyone."
This satisfies them entirely.
At recess, I step outside to supervise the playground, grateful for the open air after the classroom’s contained chaos.
“They are very… resilient.”
I startle slightly. I hadn’t heard Vraag approach. He stands beside me now, watching the playground where my students are climbing, swinging, and chasing each other with boundless energy.
For a moment I’m distracted by how quietly someone that large can move. Standing this close, the difference in scale between us is impossible to ignore. His shoulder is nearly level with the top of my head, and the sleeve of his uniform stretches over muscle that appears carved from something much harder than flesh. If he stepped between a child and danger, there would be absolutely no question about the outcome. It’s oddly reassuring, and I notice that I find it comforting, which is its own small problem I don’t have time to examine right now.
I clear my throat and follow his gaze back to the playground.
“Children?” I laugh. “They’re practically indestructible. Emotionally, anyway.”
“The little one, Theo.” Vraag gestures with his chin toward the boy sitting alone under the slide, watching others play. “He is different.”
My protective instincts flare. “Different how?”
“Quiet. Watchful.” Vraag’s expression turns thoughtful. “Among orc younglings, the observers often become the wisest strategists.”
I hadn’t expected such insight. “He’s on the spectrum. High-functioning, but social interactions and loud noises can overwhelm him.”
He pauses, just a beat, like the words need a moment to land, then nods. “In the StoneWatch clan, such younglings are pairedwith elder mentors. Their different way of seeing is considered valuable.”
“That’s… remarkably progressive.” I study him with new interest. “Here, we have support systems, but integration can still be challenging.”
“Integration is always challenging.” The weight behind his words reminds me that he knows firsthand what it’s like to be the different one.
We watch the playground in comfortable silence for a moment. Then I notice a cluster of girls pointing in our direction, giggling behind their hands.
“Incoming,” I mutter. “Brace yourself.”
Vraag tenses visibly. “Threat?”
“Five-year-old girls with questions,” I clarify, biting back a smile. “Much more dangerous.”
Before he can respond, they approach, all big eyes and barely contained curiosity.
“Mr. Vraag,” one of them announces, “we want to know if you have a girlfriend.”
I gasp. Vraag looks like he’s been hit by a truck.
“I… do not,” he manages, clearly blindsided by the question.
“Why not?” another girl chimes in.
