Page 96 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
“I’ll consider it,” I said.
Drogar’s eyebrows rose. “Consider? She invited you into your own bed. What requires consideration?”
Everything. Nothing.
The bed was large enough, however. We were adults.
We’d slept beside each other in the cave with newborn twins and their mother. That had been necessity. This would be choice.
My throat felt too tight.
“The consideration is complete,” I announced. “I’ll return to my cottage tonight.”
Drogar’s grin could’ve lit the entire facility. “There. Was that difficult?”
More than he knew.
I left before anyone could say anything else.
Carol arrived mid-morning, her silver vehicle pulling into the lot. She got out and smoothed her jacket before striding toward the entrance.
Laina was examining the fizzlings while I tried to figure out how they’d recently escaped when Carol joined us at the gate.
“That one.” She pointed to the smallest fizzling, whose stripes glowed brighter than its siblings’. “Why is it separated?”
Laina crouched beside the enclosure, her tablet balanced on her knee. “She’s not separated. She’s choosing to be alone right now. Fizzlings need individual time after they discharge energy.If we forced socialization too soon, she’d build up static too quickly.”
“So the alone time is medicinal,” Carol said.
“It’s necessary.” Laina made a note on her tablet. “For her well-being and for the others’. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for a creature is give them space to regulate themselves.”
Carol was quiet for a moment. “That’s remarkably insightful.”
Laina looked up, surprise flickering across her face before she could smooth it away.
I returned my attention to the mesh pinned between two posts that might have a small hole, but I’d heard the change. Carol wasn’t questioning whether Laina knew her work anymore. She was beginning to see what everyone else at the facility had recognized within an hour. Laina understood creatures because she understood what it meant to need space to become yourself.
“How long is snugglethorn gestation?” Carol asked when we reached Abagail’s enclosure.
“Sixty to seventy days,” Laina said without looking at her mother. “Though they can delay birth if they don’t feel safe.”
“And the twins’ development rate?”
“Accelerated compared to many surface mammals. They could run confidently within a week.”
Carol pursed her lips and asked more questions. The mirrormoose’s stress responses. The fizzling grounding procedures. Each answer Laina gave came out with none of the warmth she used when talking to the creatures themselves.
I wondered what Carol was searching for. Whether she recognized her daughter in these answers or whether she was still trying to find the version of Laina she’d left behind years ago.
I went inside to handle some paperwork and didn’t emerge until Drogar called out that our midday meal was ready.
Traig had prepared lunch today.
The break room smelled like roasted turesh root and spiced meat. He’d set the table with the same care he applied to everything.
We gathered around the table, all of us except Greth, who’d taken his portion outside to sit with Gerald while he ate. Carol sat between Krem and me, her expression neutral.
Traig set the serving dish in the center of the table. He’d made kormek the way his father used to, slow-cooked until the meat fell apart and seasoned with the combination of spices that couldn’t be replicated with surface world ingredients. We’d had three spice deliveries this month specifically so Traig could perfect this recipe.
