Chapter 4
Becken
Iarrived at the sorhox pens an hour before dawn, my breath clouding in the frigid air. The overcast sky dimmed the stars above, with a few dark clouds gathered on the western horizon. I prepared the morning feed, moving in the pre-dawn darkness.
Azool snorted when I approached his stall, his small form barely reaching my waist despite being the size of a human pony.
At one month old, he was growing fast, but the loss of his mother during birth had left him dependent on bottle feedings.
My Aunt Inla helped with that, taking turns so I didn’t have to handle it all by myself.
“Morning, little one.” I ran my gloved hand along his side, checking his condition. His dark green hide felt warm and healthy, and his eyes tracked my movements with sharp intelligence. “Hungry?”
He bumped his head against my hip, knocking me sideways. The strength in his small frame never failed to impress me.
The larger sorhoxes shuffled and snorted in their pens, demanding their own breakfast. I worked methodically, distributing feed while keeping an eye on the path from town. Carla had promised to meet me at dawn, and I’d come early to ensure everything would be ready.
Not because I wanted to see her. The work required it—so I told myself.
Yet when she appeared on the path, my pulse quickened.
She walked with confident steps despite the early hour.
She’d traded yesterday’s holiday sweater for a practical Western shirt and dark jeans tucked into boots, covering them with a coat she’d left unzipped.
She’d pulled her hair back in a simple tail, and she carried her tablet in one hand, a covered mug of coffee or tea in the other.
She looked like she belonged here, which was a problem. She didn’t. Couldn’t. She’d be gone in a month.
“Morning.” She stepped inside the barn, her cheeks pink from the cold. “I see I’m still not early enough to beat you here.”
“The sorhoxes don’t sleep in.” I waved for her to join me.
She gave me a small smile. “Thanks for letting me help with the feeding routine.”
“You wanted to understand the operation.” I led her toward the main pen where most of the adult sorhoxes waited. “This is where it starts.”
For the next hour, I walked her through the feeding process, explaining how each sorhox had specific dietary needs and hierarchical positioning.
She asked smart questions, taking notes on her tablet.
Several times, our arms brushed as we moved among the creatures, each brief contact sending an unwelcome awareness through me.
When we reached the last stall, her expression softened. “Who’s this little guy?”
“Azool. His mother died during birth.” I checked my watch. “He’s due for his next feeding.”
“He’s big for a baby.” She leaned against the stall door, keeping a respectful distance.
“He’s small for a one-month-old sorhox. He’ll be twice this size in six months.”
Azool stared at Carla, edging closer to the stall door to investigate the newcomer.
“He seems interested in you.” I prepared his bottle, measuring the special mixture and adding water, shaking it after. “Want to try feeding him?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you sure? I’ve never fed anything larger than a cat.”
“He needs to get used to different handlers if we’re going to incorporate him into the tourist program.” The excuse sounded weak even to my ears, but she nodded.
“Tell me what to do.”
I passed her the bottle. “Hold it at this angle. He’ll push hard, so brace yourself.”
She positioned herself at his gate, but when Azool lunged for the bottle, she stumbled backward. I moved behind her, my arms coming around to steady her hands on the bottle. My chest pressed against her back as I guided her grip.
“Like this,” I said, my voice embarrassingly rough. “Let him take it but maintain control of the angle.”
Azool sucked eagerly at the bottle, pulling hard enough that both our arms extended.
Carla laughed, the sound vibrating through her body and into mine. “He’s strong.”
I could’ve stepped back once it was clear she could handle it, but I remained in place, my arms around her, telling myself she needed the support.
The barn door creaked open behind us.
“Well, this looks cozy.”
I sprang away from Carla, flinging my arms upward. My face overheated despite the cold morning air.
Ruugar stood in the doorway, his expression far too amused. “Don’t let me interrupt whatever you’re doing.”
“She’s never fed a baby sorhox before,” I growled, the excuse sounding pathetic.
Carla maintained her composure, continuing to feed Azool. “Good morning. You must be another Bronish brother.”
“Ruugar.” He came closer, deliberately ignoring my glare. “I run the trail rides. And you’re Carla, our rodeo consultant. Word travels fast in Lonesome Creek.”
“So I’ve noticed.” She passed the now-empty bottle to me.
“How’s Beth feeling this morning?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
A genuine smile spread across Ruugar’s face. “Amazing. Aunt Inla thinks she’ll deliver in the next few weeks.”
Carla’s head snapped up. “You and Beth are going to have a baby? Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” My cousin’s eyes softened the way they always did when discussing his mate. “We’re hoping for a girl, but I’ll be happy with any healthy youngling.”
I nudged his shoulder, an orc gesture, genuinely pleased for my cousin. “First orc youngling to be born in Lonesome Creek. A wonderful mix of both our worlds.”
“We’re holding a…youngling bath.” Ruugar frowned.
“Not bath. Shower. I always get that mixed up. And why all the water for something that involves no water at all?” He shook his head.
“Anyway. We’re holding a youngling shower at the saloon on Thursday evening, after the restaurant closes.
You’re invited.” Ruugar’s gaze shifted between us.
“You too, Carla. Lavon’s going to prepare a feast with both human and orc specialties. ”
“Oh, oh… Me?” Carla said before I could respond.
“Why not you?” Ruugar asked. “You’re part of the family now.”
Her face brightened. “I guess I sorta am. I’ll be happy to come. I can…” Her grin rose. “I could get something online or maybe at the general store for her.”
“No gifts are necessary.”
“I wouldn’t come without one. I’ll be there. Can’t wait.”
My cousin’s grin widened. “Perfect. We thought eight in the evening. Then most of the tourists will have gone to their rooms.” He glanced toward the door. “I should go. My morning trail ride leaves in half an hour.”
After he left, an awkward silence fell between us. Carla busied herself straightening her coat while I cleaned Azool’s bottle.
“Your cousin is nice,” she finally said.
“He’s less annoying than most of the others.” I secured Azool’s stall, avoiding her eyes. “We should head to my office. Talk more about the program.”
We walked side by side toward the main building, close enough that our arms occasionally brushed despite my attempts to maintain distance. The cold air crystallized something between us, making each small contact feel significant.
“Beth was supposed to marry someone else,” I said, not sure why I was sharing this. “Her father arranged it. She ran away, disguised herself as a boy, and joined one of Ruugar’s trail rides.”
“That’s quite a story.”
“Ruugar recognized her as his mate right away, but she had no idea what was happening. Most humans don’t understand orc mating.”
“You mean like soulmates.” Her voice held genuine curiosity.
“Similar but more certain. Orcs know their mates instantly.”
My office occupied the far corner of the building.
A large desk dominated the space with my chair behind it and one for visitors in front.
The stark white walls held no decoration.
A single window overlooked the sorhox pasture, and a simple rug covered part of the wooden floor.
The only exception to the sparse design sat on my desk, a carved sorhox figure, about the size of my palm, made from fymsom.
Carla noticed it immediately. “That’s beautiful craftsmanship.”
“Fymsom,” I said, gesturing for her to sit.
“It looks similar to gold, but it can’t be.”
I shrugged. We didn’t share with humans that fymsom lay on the ground everywhere, though we’d quickly learned its value.
In fact, we’d used fymsom to fund our full operation here, telling everyone the orc king had provided the needed money.
Instead, it had been paid for with fymsom, which we told the humans we’d mined in the mountains surrounding this valley.
“Someone made it for you?” Carla settled into the chair across from my desk, pulling out her tablet.
“My mate, Wexla.” The words came easier than expected. “Before she died.”
Carla’s expression shifted to sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Six months ago. Illness.” I sat down, surprised by my willingness to share this with her. “She carved the sorhox because I raised them.”
“It’s exquisite work.” She didn’t press for more details, which I appreciated.
As she organized her materials, I saw hesitation in her movements, a cautiousness that hadn’t been there during Azool’s feeding.
Was she hesitant because I’d been grumpy since she arrived? Of course a human would be uncomfortable around a snarly orc. I had my reasons, but I didn’t want her finding me unapproachable. I told myself we needed to get along well to work together.
Not that I was unsettled at the thought that she may not…like me.
“I’ve been reviewing the current plans for the rodeo program,” she said, her voice shifting to a professional tone. “Based on what you’ve shown me about sorhoxes, I think we should focus on a few core activities rather than trying to replicate an entire traditional rodeo.”
She laid out hand-drawn diagrams showing simplified versions of barrel racing and ground roping courses. As she explained her reasoning, the tension in her shoulders eased, her enthusiasm for the work breaking through her caution.
“The barrel racing would use a modified course with wider turns to accommodate a sorhox’s larger size,” she said. “And for the ground roping, we’d start with stationary targets before moving to anything mobile.”
Her ideas were thoughtful, practical, and clearly designed with both tourist experience and sorhox welfare in mind. The more she explained, the more impressed I became. But she still seemed to be holding back, watching me carefully as if she expected criticism.
I wanted to reassure her, to show I appreciated her work. So I plastered the biggest, tuskiest, most ridiculous smile on my face, the polar opposite of my usual expression.
Her words trailed off mid-sentence, her eyes widening.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
My ears burned. “Yes. Fine. I, um…I’m…Ideas are good.”
She stared at me like I’d sprouted two new arms, her expression frozen somewhere between confusion and concern.
I cleared my throat, desperate to reclaim some dignity. “Please continue.”
She blinked twice, then found her place in her notes. “As I was saying, for children’s activities, I thought we could start with stick horse barrel racing to teach the patterns before introducing them to real sorhoxes, though small ones who could be trained to be extra gentle.”
Grateful for her willingness to move past my awkwardness, I leaned forward to examine her diagrams some more. “This would work well.”
“You mentioned the young sorhox connection yesterday.” She pointed to another diagram showing a simplified care routine.
“We could expand that into a formal program. A sort of farm camp, though perhaps only for a few hours. Where children can come to the barns and feed the sorhoxes. Maybe older kids could give bottles to younglings like Azool.”
For the next hour, we refined her ideas, our excitement building as the program took shape. When our clothing rubbed together as we leaned over the same document, neither of us pulled away. The room felt warmer than it should despite how cold it was outside.
“The timeline is ambitious but realistic.” I was impressed by her thoroughness. “Starting with these core activities makes more sense than trying to do everything at once.”
Her smile lit up her face. “Exactly. We can always expand later, but this gives us a strong foundation.”
“I’m impressed. It’s clear you’ve thought this through.”
“Thank you.” She gathered her materials, a flush coloring her cheeks. “I want this program to succeed.”
My eyes fell on the carved sorhox figure on my desk.
Wexla had made it during our last month together, when she already knew she was dying but hadn’t told me yet.
The sharp pain I’d felt whenever I looked at it had dulled.
The realization brought confusion rather than relief. Was this healing or betrayal?
Carla followed my gaze. “It’s beautiful work. She was very talented.”
“She was.” I touched the smooth curve of the figure’s back. “This was one of the last things she made.” Clearing my throat, I returned to safer territory. “Your ideas for the program are excellent. But there’s one important aspect we haven’t addressed.”
“Which is?”
“We should grab some sandwiches from the bakery and take them with us. I’d like you to get comfortable on a sorhox if you’re going to be developing this program. I hope you’re up for a ride this afternoon.”
She paused. “You want to go riding?”
“Unless you’d rather not.”
“No, no, it’s alright. I’m…” She peered down at her clothing before lifting her head and giving a shaky laugh. “At least I opted not to wear a skirt today. You’re sure the sorhoxes will be extra gentle with me?”
“We’ll make sure of it. You’re going to have fun.” I hoped.
“If you say so.”