12. Tark
Chapter 12
Tark
W hile I worked on something special, Gracie crafted a meal. Finished, she brought something that smelled amazing over to the table, laying a loaded plate in front of me and a smaller one on the opposite side.
I kept my project tucked beneath the wooden surface, not ready to share it with her yet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to share it.
As she settled in the seat across from me, I tucked it inside my pocket and gave her an attempt at a smile.
“What were you working on?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I growled, then realized how snarly I sounded. I lightened my voice, aiming for sweetness, though there wasn’t anything sweet about a big orc like me. “It isn’t anything.”
Sharga flew into the kitchen and perched on the counter.
“I wasn’t sure what he ate,” Gracie said. “But he enjoyed the muffin this morning, so I left some food in the pan for him. Let me go grab it.”
It didn’t take her long to scoop up a generous portion for Sharga, who watched her intently, his head cocking this way and that. She placed the plate in front of him on the counter and he eyed it before he started pecking.
She was so pretty when she smiled. “He likes it.” After lightly stroking Sharga’s feathers, she rejoined me at the table. As she lifted her fork, he kept pecking, releasing a low rumble from his throat.
She watched him eat. “I’ve never been this close to a bird before. He’s amazing. I’m so glad you rescued him.”
“He’s my friend.” One of my few friends if I didn’t count my brothers. They were family. We loved each other, but it wasn’t quite the same thing.
“Sometimes, pets make the best friend,” she said almost sadly. “They rarely judge you.”
“Who has judged you?” I wasn't a violent orc, but the thought of anyone making Gracie feel sad made me want to go on a rampage with swords flashing. Orcs hadn't done that for many generations.
“Everyone.” She sucked in a breath and new words burst out. “I mean no one.”
“Who?” The word came out softer, but my need to rampage still churned through me.
“I like it here. I feel…accepted.”
“Was it your parents?” It wouldn't be good to kill them. She might protest. “The people you worked with making the streaming images?” Them, I could kill.
“Both. But I've put all that behind me.” She straightened in her chair. “I'm an influencer now. Working for one of the hottest new tourist destinations in the country.”
I frowned. “Who?”
Her low laugh rang out. “Lonesome Creek Ranch, of course.”
“Oh, yes, us. Me. Us.”
“Yes you. I have so many ideas already. I'll write them down when I get to my room and put my plan in motion tomorrow. You're going to be so busy, you won't know how to handle all the visitors coming to this town.”
“We do want to be busy.”
“This place is going to stun them. They'll be booking their next vacation before they finish the first.”
“All from social media?” I couldn't quite process how that could be possible. Surely what I'd done so far had only driven them away.
“Wait and see. You'll be very happy with what we can do together.” She waved her fork toward my meal. “Now take a bite. You're going to love it.”
Gracie leaned forward, sliding her fork into the food and bringing it to her mouth. She chewed and wiggled in her seat.
My cock kicked up, a totally inappropriate thing to do in this situation, and I scowled down at it, telling it to behave.
“Is everything alright?” Gracie asked.
“Fine,” I squeaked, hating how nervous I sounded. At least she couldn't see my cock pressing against the front of my pants--all from her doing something as simple as enjoying her meal.
The quiet scrape of Sharga’s beak on his plate filled the room. Turning my attention to my own food, I stared down at it, uncertain. The whitish blobs and green things that curled gently like blades of grass puzzled me most, though the red fingers…
My gut tightened, not from hunger, but from confusion. Were humans savages in secret? They must be if they ate each other's fingers. No, they couldn’t do something like that. They’d have none left if that were the case.
“Humans don’t eat fingers,” I barked out, my brow furrowing as I started to lean closer to sniff at the plate. Then I froze, realizing I'd spoken the thought out loud. My gaze darted to Gracie, who was watching me with expectant eyes. Her expression shifted, and she blinked at me like I’d just grown a third tusk. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I scrambled to find words to cover my embarrassment. “I—I mean, it looks very artistic. I'm sure this meal is special.”
Her lips twitched into a smile, and before I could retreat further into my panic, she leaned forward, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers. She was so small, her slim fingers barely managing to curl halfway around mine. Her warmth seeped into my skin like sunlight warming the soil, chasing away every thought in my head except the awareness of her touch and the fact that my hand was far too large. All of me was too big for a delicate human like her.
My voice felt trapped somewhere in my chest.
She was touching me. Not jerking back. Not frowning. Actually touching me in a way that suggested she was trying to soothe me.
“This,” Gracie said gently, lifting her other hand to point to one of the whitish blobs, “is mac 'n cheese. It’s made from pasta, which is formed from ground grains, and a cheese sauce I made with milk, flour, which is ground grains as well, and cheese. Lots of cheese because there can never be too much cheese, don't you think?” Her shoulders twitched. “Sorry. Got carried away there.”
Was she embarrassed? Her cheeks had darkened like my ears did when I felt like I'd said something foolish.
I stared at her, feeling a sense of comfort in that.
“And here, we have green beans.” She pointed to the blades of sort-of grass. “They grow in pods, kind of like your dartlings, but without the need for singing. Just water, sunlight, and some care. We eat the entire bean before the seeds inside mature.” Finally, she pointed to the red-skinned “fingers,” her smile widening. “And these are hot dogs.”
“Dogs?” I groaned and reeled back in my chair. “I cannot eat dogs.”
“No, no, they're not real dogs. We just call them that. No idea why. They're made of meat, though, and that does come from an animal.”
“I eat meat to survive. We hunt a lot in the orc kingdom and eat whatever we kill. We bless the creature, thanking it for its sacrifice to keep us alive. I should bless these dog fingers?”
Her lips twitched this time, but her eyes remained somber. “I think that would be okay.”
I said a silent word to the dog fingers while she watched.
Her smile softened, her eyes glowing with warmth. “You’re sweet, Tark. I think the animals would appreciate that.”
Gracie’s praise landed somewhere deep inside me, a small ember fanning into a flame I wasn’t sure I could control.
“I'll taste it all now,” I said. Picking up the fork she'd placed beside my plate, I hesitated before spearing one of the whitish blobs. Gracie watched me closely, and I could feel her eyes on me as I took a cautious bite.
The mac 'n cheese melted on my tongue, its texture soft and smooth. I'd only tasted cheese once and I'd adored it. A wave of creaminess filled my mouth, the tangy flavors of it balanced by a slight sweetness I didn’t expect. It reminded me of the rare honey-thistle cakes we made on special occasions back in the orc kingdom, a food tied to celebrations.
As I chewed, I let out a low hum of approval.
Gracie’s face lit up. “You like it?”
“No.”
Her expression faltered, and panic surged through me. I held up a hand quickly. “I mean, yes. Yes, I like it. Very much. I was…teasing.”
“Whoa.” She grinned. “Give me a warning next time.”
I sucked in a breath. “I will.”
“Now I'm the one who's joking. Tease away whenever you want. No need to give warning.”
Teasing… That was something people did when they liked each other, right? My body overheated, and I grinned.
She grinned right back.
Yes, maybe, just maybe…she liked me. A little. Not a lot. Not enough to mate with but enough to…
I bit off the thoughts before they consumed me and focused on my food. “This is wonderful. Like nothing I’ve had before. Soft, rich, and warm. It's like eating sunshine.”
Her brow arched, but she laughed, a sound so light it sent a tingle across my skin. “I think you might be the first person to compare mac 'n cheese to sunshine, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
Encouraged, I moved on to the green beans. They snapped faintly between my teeth and were earthy and crisp with a hint of butter. I loved butter. We didn't have it in the orc kingdom, and the first time I tasted it, I groaned. My brothers laughed, but they were soon groaning too.
I nodded as I chewed, letting the simple goodness settle.
Finally, with Gracie still watching me, I picked up one of the red dog fingers. I half expected it to bark at me as I lifted it closer. Whatever it had been once, though, it had been transformed completely. My tusks grazed the edge as I took a bite. I was wary but determined to honor her effort.
Heat and salt exploded across my tongue, followed by the subtle smokiness of the meat. It was bold and satisfying in a way that made pleasure rumble through my chest. I leaned back in my chair, staring down at the remaining dog fingers that had won a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting.
Gracie grinned, folding her arms on the edge of the table and tilting her head at me. “Well?”
“It’s…smoky. Salty, too, but in a nice way. I thought it would be…” My eyes shot to her, and I hesitated. “Well, I wasn't sure what they'd taste like. They're good.”
“It’s, uh, very processed. Some people say that’s not good, but I think processed can taste pretty great.” She smiled. “I’m happy you like it all. I was worried I wouldn’t make anything you could eat.”
“It’s extraordinary, because you did it for me.”
Gracie beamed, the skin above her shirt turning pink. Her happiness carved itself into my chest. What secrets had she carried to this little town that made her glow so fiercely from a simple compliment? I wanted to keep that glow alive, protect it, and draw every shadow away that might try to dim it.
She lifted a bite of mac 'n cheese into her mouth. “I’ll make sure you’re well-fed. Can’t have my orc friend starving.”
Friend. That word settled somewhere bittersweet within me. I wanted more, even though I wasn’t sure what more looked like in the human world. Orcs knew love like we knew the seasons, deeply and without question, but her world was more complex. I could see it in her soft defenses, her careful way of choosing words as if she was determined to keep parts of herself hidden.
Resisting the urge to lick my plate clean took every bit of self-control I had. The flavors clung to my tongue, and I forced myself to place the fork down instead of scooping up the last streak of cheese sauce off the plate.
Gracie stood and began gathering the empty plates, and I followed her lead, collecting Sharga’s cleaned plate from the counter as I passed. Her smile widened as I moved to help. “You don’t have to?—”
“We shared the meal,” I said, taking the utensils and stacking them neatly in the sink. “It’s only fair.”
The curve of her lips did something strange to my chest, but I nudged the feeling aside. I’d drag it out later, when I was alone, and examine it fully.
We worked together, her washing again while I dried and put everything away. The sound of clinking dishes and running water filling the space between us. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, noting how her delicate hands moved, plus the tiny furrow on her brow when she scrubbed a stubborn spot on a pan. Her human world fascinated me, from the rituals, the tools, to the way everything seemed to mix effort with comfort. I wanted to learn it all. For her.
“Sharga, you’re supervising, I see,” she said to the bird now perched on the windowsill, preening his feathers. He chirped in reply before puffing up, satisfied.
“He believes himself to be a warrior.” I dried the last plate and put it away. “His heart is much larger than his size.”
She chuckled, a sound as sweet as wind whispering through spring leaves. “I think that describes you too.”
Her words swirled inside me. It wasn't the same as the heat I felt when she smiled or when her fingers brushed mine. This was quieter, like the earth settling after a storm.
Something gnawed inside my chest for space it couldn’t give.
Before I could find something to say, she turned away from the now-empty sink. “I guess I'll head to my room. I want to post a few videos and outline what I'll do tomorrow.”
Sharga fluttered back to my shoulder as we climbed the staircase together, his claws digging into my shirt. The second floor smelled faintly of lavender, a scent my Aunt Inla said humans enjoyed. It made me sneeze more than I liked.
I sneezed.
“Bless you,” Gracie said.
“Bless what?” I'd never heard the saying before.
“History lesson time. I took tons of classes while on the set of the…streaming images. Memorized all sorts of unimportant details. Anyway. Sneezing was a common symptom of the plague, one that took place on the surface hundreds of years ago. A bishop, who is a religious leader, urged people to say it as a way of warding off the disease.”
“Did it work?”
She shrugged. “It never hurts to wish someone well.”
“Thank you then.”
Gracie walked ahead of me, down the hallway, her shoes tapping softly on the old wooden floor. The indirect light from the sconces—I was told they were called—made her hair gleam like polished bronze, and I found myself staring too long, drawn to the sway of the strands.
When we reached her door, she stopped, tugging the key from her pocket.
“Thank you for the amazing day and evening,” she said, unlocking and pushing the door open. The room was cozy, filled with warmth from the soft glow of a bedside lamp she must’ve left on earlier.
She turned, her hand still on the doorframe, her smile softer now. Maybe it was the light, but her face looked tired. Or maybe wistful. I stayed where I was, carrying all the words I didn’t understand how to say. I didn’t know how to ask if she was alright. Thoughts tumbled awkwardly in my head, none of them feeling like the right thing to say. All of me felt too big here, standing at the threshold of her quiet world.
Unable to stop myself, I reached out, brushing my knuckles across her cheek, my skin rough against her softness. I marveled at how small her face seemed when compared to my hand. It was as if the world had made her too delicate for this place. Yet she carried a strength I couldn’t see but felt lingering beneath her smiles.
“You’ve given me a day I won’t forget,” I said, my voice croaking through my chest. “Thank you, Gracie.”
“Me too.” With a smile, she stepped into her room. “Goodnight, Tark.”
“Goodnight.” My voice cracked. I turned before I could do anything foolish, my hand already sliding down to my side.
Walking along the hallway felt like dragging myself through mud. Each step away from her door made me feel twice—no, three times my size. Sharga meowed beside my temple, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t drag up words even for my pet.
Outside, the night air felt cool on my skin and filled with the familiar scents of pine and the soft hum of insects in the dark.
I called for my sorhox, and the huge beast padded from where she’d been grazing. I leaped up onto her back, appreciating the quiet comfort of her strength beneath me.
When I reached home, Sharga flew off my shoulder, soaring in through the open hatch on the top of my barn, seeking his roost. Podar waited inside the house, sitting with an air of impatience by the door. As I strode into the kitchen, he yowled, reminding me I was late coming home.
“Sorry, little one,” I said, closing and locking the door. He wound around my legs as I took food from the fridge and fed him.
Podar dove in, eating with enthusiasm. Smiling, I stroked his glossy fur while his purr echoed in the quiet room. My friend always brought comfort, and tonight I needed his presence.
The house felt still, almost too much. Without Gracie's laughter or her asking me about this or that, the quiet pressed down on me. After getting a drink of water, I walked into the living area and sank into an orc-sized chair, staring at the cold fireplace beyond the low table. I kicked off my boots and shucked my socks, propping my bare feet on the table and wiggling my toes.
I couldn't stop thinking about Gracie, how she moved, her bright smile. I could still feel the ghostly warmth of her cheek against my knuckles. It was maddening. She was human, her world unknowable in so many ways. Yet everything about her felt familiar, as if my heart had been waiting for her all along.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing at my touch. A swipe, and I tapped until I found our business's profile on InstaPlug.
She’d already begun posting. There was a short video highlighting views of the surrounding mountains, each shot tied together with her voice overlaying them—a voice like honey talking about the beauty and hidden charm of Lonesome Creek Ranch. She’d included a wide shot of the meadow beyond the red barn too, its golden expanse merging with the horizon. In the comments, people were already asking questions about visiting. Excitement glimmered in her words as she responded.
Pride swelled in my chest as I scrolled through her posts. She was so much better with this than me. The way she painted pictures with her words, her eye for finding beauty in the small things. She had a magic about her.
I hovered my fingers over the screen, wondering if I should leave a comment. But what could I say? Anything I might type felt clumsy, out of place. Instead, I liked the video, a small bit of acknowledgment. She might not notice my heart among all the others flooding in, but the thought brought a faint smile to my lips because I was supporting her.
Setting the phone aside, I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The quiet of the house felt heavier tonight. Empty, like a cavern with echoes that didn’t reach any walls. My heart teased me with a longing I didn’t know how to resolve. It wasn’t just her kindness or the way she looked at me that made the ache in my chest grow. It was everything about her. She made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t since leaving the orc kingdom, like the first time I drew in a breath under the big open sky.
I grabbed the remote and flicked on the streaming box. Dungar had insisted we watch the images to better understand humans. He'd also mentioned that many showed how a male might court a female, something all of us were interested in.
The screen lit up, revealing a lone rider on a vast plain, his too-small, not-sorhox carrying him toward the horizon.
This streaming image was strange. Humans seemed to solve the problems presented in the story with weapons that barked out bangs, or with exaggerated speeches. But then came the moments that Dungar must feel were significant—the courting scenes. The hero tipped his hat toward the female of his dreams. His lazy smile rose, and he spoke flowery words that made the female smile.
He brought her wildflowers.
Shielded her from storms.
He carried all her burdens without hesitation.
It seemed humans valued quiet strength paired with tenderness, and my mind raced, trying to piece together what I could learn from this.
Podar jumped up onto the arm of my chair and then climbed onto my lap, curling in a ball, purring. I absently stroked him, taking care not to touch where his missing front leg used to attach. He got around amazingly well, but I could tell that the lack of his limb still sometimes hurt him. Phantom pain, the woman animal healer had called it.
Similar to the feeling in my heart now that Gracie was no longer by my side.
The streaming images ended, and words dragged across the screen.
Somewhere inside, beneath my thick flesh and tougher pride, a longing beat in place of what used to be utterly still.
Gracie deserved more than I knew how to offer, but these humans managed to win affection through their boldness and care. Perhaps if I tried something like what I’d seen tonight, something meaningful, I could show her all the feelings growing in my heart.
A plan began forming in my mind. It wasn't much, but it was enough to spark hope.
Soon, I would put it into action.