Page 143 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“She learned from you.”

I laughed, the sound coming out shaky and relieved and slightly unhinged.

Traig pulled me back against his chest.

We stood in the doorway with the morning light streaming in.

We’d chosen each other.

That was all that mattered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EPILOGUE: WILLA

One month later, I stood in my office doorway watching Tenley, our new receptionist, navigate her first week at the front desk.

She was twenty-seven, full of energy, and she had a knack for making visitors feel welcome the moment they walked through the door. Exactly what we’d needed when the fall program brought more foot traffic than any of us had anticipated.

“Just tell them we’ll call back within twenty-four hours,” I said when she glanced my way, the phone pressed to her ear.

She nodded, repeated my words almost exactly, and hung up with a smile.

“You’re doing great,” I told her.

“Thanks.” She gestured at the schedule board mounted behind the reception desk, the one Traig had color-coded within an inch of its life. “I’m still learning the system.”

“You’ll get there. It took me weeks.”

I returned to my office, one with a door and a window that looked out over the west pasture and a desk that didn’t require sharing space with Fred’s aerial acrobatics.

The schedule board from my old spot at reception hung on my wall now, transplanted when I’d moved in two weeks ago.

Fall semester dates filled the left column, color-coded by creature type. Blue for bloombacks, green for grumbletoads, yellow for driftwhisps. The spring session ran down the center, with preliminary parent inquiries noted in the margins.

My handwriting wove through Traig’s columns. Creature engagement notes. Behavioral observations. The things kids had said that we needed to remember for next time.

A hybrid system, better than either of ours alone.

Fred dozed in a patch of sun near the window, his wings tucked against his sides, his grumble a soft purr. Amanda sat on the windowsill above him, her crown pink, her letter opener resting across her lap.

Nix glowed in the corner. I’d put him back in his pen three times, but he kept finding a way out.

The three of them had reached an understanding nobody could explain, and none of us were willing to question. Amanda hissed when Nix zipped past. Nix didn’t discharge near Fred’s napping spots. Fred grumbled at both of them every now and then.

Movement in the hallway caught my eye.

Greth was walking down the hall but paused at my doorway. His gaze clung to Tenley at the front desk.

He stood there for a full ten seconds, saying nothing.

Then he nodded once and kept going.

I bit back a smile. This was the fourth time today he’d done that. Yesterday he’d done it six times.

He never said anything. He appeared, stared at Tenley, nodded, and left.

“That’s Greth,” I’d told her yesterday when she’d asked. “He’s quiet.”