Page 19 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“The data doesn’t support that conclusion,” he said.

“The data says Fern stopped eating when they were apart. Her flowers went yellow.”

“That’s common during disruptions.”

“For two days?”

His finger slid across the screen as he reread the information.

“We document what we observe,” he said. “The system is designed to identify anomalies.”

“It did identify them.”

His gaze lifted from the tablet, meeting mine. “If they’re bonded, separation would cause distress. Long-term separation could be harmful.”

“I’m sure it would be.”

Fern hadn’t moved. Her flowers remained pale, still half-open, and she stared at Rue.

“I’ll review the data again,” Traig said.

It wasn’t an agreement, but it wasn’t a dismissal either.

He turned back toward the path. “There’s one more creature I want to show you.”

I followed him past two pastures and a row of smaller pens until we reached a reinforced enclosure near the tree line. The fence stood double-height, the mesh finer than the others, with a climate-controlled shelter built into the back corner.

Inside, ferret-sized creatures nestled together, asleep. One spied us and zipped across the ground, his glowing stripes leaving trails of light in his wake.

“Nix,” I said, stooping down to see him better.

“Fizzlings are highly energetic,” Traig said. “They build static electricity when excited and discharge it on contact. The shocks are harmless but frequent.”

Nix spotted us and froze mid-sprint before bolting toward the fence.

Traig sighed.

Nix hit the gate at full speed, scrabbled up the mesh, and squeezed through a gap near the top hinge that should not have been large enough for him to fit through. He perched, clinging to the fence with his one-inch claws.

“Nix,” Traig said. “Return to your enclosure.”

Nix chittered and launched himself at Traig’s chest. As he hit, a sharp crack made my hair stand on end from three feet away.

Traig pried the fizzling off his chest and held the creature at arm’s length while Nix wriggled and sparked.

“This is the twelfth documented escape this month,” Traig said.

I could swear Nix wore a fizzling grin.

“You’ll have to fix that hole,” I said.

“I’ve reinforced the enclosure each time he escapes and made sure there are no more gaps. Rebuilt the structure five times. He finds a way no matter what I do.”

Nix chittered, and a small bolt of static jumped from his nose to Traig’s hand.

“He’s drawn to emotional energy,” Traig said, shaking his hand, sighing. He carried Nix back toward the gate. “Excitement, stress, and high-stimulation environments can excite them. The more charged the atmosphere, the more energized they become.”

“So he’s basically a living mood ring.”