Page 135 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

Fred grumbled and bumped into the cabinet door I’d left open. He ricocheted toward the window, Amanda’s crown flaring brighter.

“Careful,” I told him.

He grumbled again, this time in a lower pitch, and settled on top of the refrigerator until I placed their food on a mat on the floor. He flew down, and they ate.

The kettle whistled. I made my tea and carried it to the back deck, easing the door closed behind me.

Shadows still covered most of the clearing behind our cottage, but the sky had started to lighten at the edges. The trees stood black against it, their shapes sharpening as my eyes adjusted.

A rumbleback emerged from the tree line, moving toward the water trough. Its stone armor caught what little light there was, making it look like a piece of a mountain had come loose and started walking.

I sipped my tea and watched it drink.

This was mine. The cottage, the clearing, the creatures that wandered through. The mug in my hand that I’d chosen because it held the right amount of liquid and the grip felt good in my hand.

Willa sleeping in our bed with her hair spread across my pillow.

Competence is expected.

My father had said it as a warning. Anything less than perfect was grounds for dismissal.

The rumbleback finished drinking and walked back toward the trees, its footsteps heavy.

I’d spent my entire life making choices I thought would fit an invisible standard. Weighing whether I’d done enough to justify existing. Doing this had kept me away from the truly amazing things in life. Instead of being the person my parents demanded, I needed to be myself.

And now I no longer felt the need to try.

The door opened behind me. Willa stepped onto the deck, wearing one of my shirts, her coffee mug cradled in both hands.

She studied my face.

“You decided something,” she said. “Tell me.”

“When it matters,” I said. “Soon.”

Her mouth twitched. “That’s cryptic.”

“It’s honest.”

She frowned for another moment, then settled into the chair beside me, tucking her legs underneath her. The shirt—my shirt—rode up, exposing the curve of her thigh. Her mating mark caught the growing light.

The sky continued to lighten. A clatterwing flew past, its wings chiming.

“Today’s the first day of the school program,” she said. “Do you feel ready?”

I glanced at her. “Do you?”

“I asked first.”

“We built it together,” I said. “It’ll work.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I am ready.”

She smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “Alright then. Let them bring it.”

The facility was already alive when we arrived. Gerald the snugglethorn waited in the front pasture. Drogar was carrying something that chittered from inside a covered crate. Krem stood near the driftwhisp enclosure with his clipboard, making notes while seven driftwhisps orbited his head.