2. Laina
CHAPTER TWO
LAINA
Iwanted to stay in the hallway forever, standing with Sofia’s warmth against my neck and Brovish watching me like I’d done something miraculous instead of just existing. But the clatterwing was hurt, and I had a job to do even if it had just startled me with a squawk.
I stepped inside.
The medical bay was clean and organized in an orc-scaled way, with counters higher than I was used to and upper cabinets built at levels I’d need a stepping stool to reach. The equipment was half-familiar, half-not.
The injured creature had been placed inside a crate sitting on an examination table in the center. I dimmed the lights and slowly stepped closer, leaning down to the bird’s level to peer into the crate.
Its coppery feathers gleamed in the low light, and sadly, its left wing hung loose. The bird was the size of a large hawk and when it shifted inside the crate, its feathers made a sound like wind chimes.
Clatterwings were gift-givers, according to my field guide. They collected shiny objects and dropped them on people’s heads. Tin foil if you were lucky. Dumbbells if you weren’t.
I set my bag down on the counter and stroked Sofia’s spine.
“She should probably go back to you,” I said, even though I didn’t want to give her up yet. “I don’t want her frightened by the clatterwing.”
“She won’t be, but I’ll take her if you insist. She’ll fight me, though.” His voice had gone gruff. “Sofia will come back only if and when she’s ready.”
Sofia peeped and burrowed deeper against my neck.
“You can stay, little one,” I said, “but be ready to leave if things get messy.”
The clinical part of my brain kicked in, the world narrowing in on the problem in front of me.
“How long has the wing been like that?” I asked.
“Since this evening. I found him near the eastern fence about an hour ago and brought him here right away.”
“Is he eating?”
“Not since I brought him in. I put the bowl of water in the crate, though.”
I’d seen it. “Has he tried to fly?”
“Before I could catch him. He didn’t get far.”
Sofia leaped from my shoulder to Brovish’s arm, latching onto his shirt and scrambling up to settle on his shoulder.
I moved closer to the bird.
The clatterwing watched me with its head cocked and one pale blue eye tracking my hands.
“Hey,” I said softly, donning rubber gloves. “I’m going to take a look at your wing, alright? I’ll be gentle.” I glanced Brovish’s way, finding him watching me, not the bird. “He’s alert, which is a good thing.”
“Yes.”
“And his breathing looks even.”
“I don’t think he hurt anything but his wing.”
“Have you examined him yourself?”
“I brought him in and looked him over, but he wouldn’t let me touch his wing. I put him in the crate and called the emergency line after that.”
“Do you have a towel I can wrap him in?” I asked, peering around.
While I released the latch on the side of the crate, he crossed the room to the far-right cabinet and swung it open, pulling a white towel off the shelf and bringing it to me.
I slid the spread towel inside and carefully wrapped the creature into a bird burrito, easing him out of the crate, placing him on the exam table.
Slipping one hand beneath the towel, I checked him over, taking care to avoid his talons.
“He’s not too warm,” I said. I was operating under emergency stabilization protocols, which allowed a vet to provide life-saving care to an unknown species until a specialist could be found.
My hands moved through the familiar motions but nothing about this felt normal.
The bird’s body heat registered much warmer than I’d expect from a raptor.
The bone structure felt close to a hawk but not quite.
I’d spent years learning to read animal bodies, and this one had been written in a language I only half-understood.
I loved it.
I didn’t find any injury other than the wing.
“No crepitus,” I said as I subtly probed. “Also good.”
“Crep…”
“The best way to describe it is a crackling feeling under the skin. It’s common with a fracture. There’s also some edema—swelling—that’s concerning.” I looked up to find Brovish watching me intently. “Do you have an X-ray machine here?”
“We have all the best equipment.”
“Perfect.” I placed the bird back inside the crate and lightly sedated him, a common way to reduce stress and prevent movement. I’d noted the exact dosage in my log and calculated the appropriate drug dose for species I’d never treated based on the animal’s weight and metabolic rate.
After the medication had started taking effect, Brovish carried the crate down the hallway to the X-ray room with me following.
I positioned the sluggish bird with sandbags and medical tape and stepped behind the lead shield and took the films.
Finished, I placed the bird back in the crate and went to the computer to view the images. I scanned both views, zooming in, taking time to study each tiny bone before leaning away from the screen.
“Right here.” I pointed. “See that? He’s got a hairline fracture. That means…pretty much a crack in the bone. Nondisplaced.”
Brovish stood near enough I caught his woodsy scent and the heat radiating off his skin. I’d read orcs were hotter-blooded than humans.
If I shifted my weight even slightly to the left, we’d be touching.
“I’ve never stabilized a wing on a clatterwing before,” I said. “But the bone structure is close enough to raptors I’ve worked with. I can do this.”
His lips twitched up into the start of a smile. “I know you can.” His smile faded fast. “What does this mean for his recovery?”
I studied the film again. “The biggest risk will be keeping him from using it. We’ll need to immobilize it to give it a chance to heal. He’ll need to stay in a small, quiet enclosure where he can hop around but be restricted from flying.”
“Will he ever be able to fly free again?”
“In two to four weeks if it heals well, yes. Otherwise…”
“He’ll always have a home here.”
“I saw the pictures of your placements in the lobby.”
He nodded. “We home any creature that isn’t able to live safely in the wild.”
“I imagine everyone’s begging for one of your creatures.”
He shrugged. “We get a lot of applications, but we’re choosing. We won’t let our friends go to anyone unless we’re completely sure it’s the right home for them.”
“Good.” I loved how he called them friends. That was how I referred to all animals.
He picked up the crate. “Back to the examination room?”
“Yes. Do you have supplies to bind his wing?”
“We do. The vet we’ve been using gave us a list of items to stock, and Traig—he’s basically the manager here—made sure we have everything.”
We walked back down the hall and into the room, where he placed the crate on the table.
After locating what I needed, I gently removed the bird from the crate with the towel again and settled him on the table. Brovish moved the crate out of the way so I could work.
I kept talking to the clatterwing while carefully wrapping the wing to keep it snug against his body, telling him what I was doing in a soft tone of voice. It helped that he was still sedated, but the bird relaxed under my hands, the chiming sound fading to something more melodic.
Brovish stood close, big and solid and silent except for his breathing.
“You have gentle hands,” he said.
I glanced up. He wasn’t looking at me but was watching my hands on the bird’s wing, his expression unguarded in a way it hadn’t been before.
“They have to be,” I said. “Or I hurt them.”
“Not everyone understands that.”
I suspected he wasn’t just talking about the bird.
He was quiet for a moment. “Your coat’s still wet.”
I glanced down. He was right. I’d never taken it off, and it was saturated from the rain. “It’ll dry.”
“There’s a staff room. I can get you something else to wear.”
Orc-sized? I didn’t laugh.
“I’m fine,” I said. “We’re almost done here.”
He nodded but didn’t move away, and I had the strangest feeling that he was studying me the same way I’d been studying him. Taking inventory. Deciding something.
The driftwhisp had settled on top of a cabinet, its silver light dimmed. Sofia had moved to a perch nearby and watched my every move.
“Do you have kennels or small cages?” I asked. “That will work best for him for the first part of his recovery.”
“We do. Out back.”
“He needs to be inside.”
“We have crates both inside and out.”
“Good.” I gently wrapped the towel around the bird again and nudged my chin toward Brovish. “Lead the way.”
I followed him halfway down the left hallway, where he opened a door and waved for me to enter. Inside, I found a row of crates, all empty.
“Most of our creatures roam free within the building or live in pens outside,” he said. “We’re very strict on where they can be and follow government-created protocols. Will one of these do?”
“This is perfect. He’ll need proper feed.”
“They’re carnivores.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Like scavengers. Roadkill and things like that?”
“Yes, though they also hunt mice. Smaller birds. Even grumbletoads.”
“You brought some of them to the surface as well?” From what I’d read, the loaf-shaped creatures were squishy and they wore perpetual frowns. Their skin was velvety. Long ago, orcs would hunt and kill them for meat or leather.
“We’re slowly introducing various species to your world, though we keep them on our property until we’re sure they’ll fit in with human life. We have over a thousand acres here.”
“Impressive.”
“Insurance, too. Traig handles that.”
A wise decision.
After placing the bird in the kennel and ensuring it had sufficient food and water, plus covering the crate with the towel, we left, walking down the hall.
“This was unlike any call I’ve ever taken,” I said after I’d retrieved my bag and we’d returned to the lobby. “Very special. I’m honored I had the chance to meet some of the animals you’re housing here. And you.”
His small, crooked smile changed his entire face.
“Are you looking for a job?” he asked. “We’re hoping to hire a full-time vet.
While creatures go through quarantine before they arrive here, some aren’t adoptable and will remain here forever, even as we grow bigger.
The league is also the only contact in Maine for orc creatures, so we see drop-ins on a regular basis. ”
The question hit me sideways. I’d been offered jobs before at other clinics and emergency hospitals in Portland.
Even a zoo position once. I’d turned them all down without much thought.
Bramble Creek was home. I still had my share of my father’s partnership at the clinic.
My life worked well for me as it was. But standing here in the rain with the phantom weight of Sofia on my shoulder and the visual of the bird’s wing bones, I couldn’t make myself say no.
“I—”
My brain was spinning through logistics. One of our staff vets had gone part-time until her son started preschool, but now she was asking for more hours. She’d kiss me if I told her those hours might be coming. But…
“I have my own practice.”
Plus Dad’s partner, who was eager to buy me out. She had big plans for the facility to turn it into something more upscale, a place that just wasn’t me. Or Dad, for that matter.
He shifted his weight, and for the first time since I’d arrived, he looked uncertain.
“We could match what you make on your own. And the creatures… They’re special.
We’ve gotten by with on-call vets, but we need someone permanent.
There’s no one else who can do this as well as you just handled the clatterwing.
Not anywhere on the surface. You could start whenever you wanted. Tomorrow or three months from now.”
This wasn’t something I’d expected tonight.
But it was surprisingly appealing.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, not willing to commit to more than that.
He nodded and walked with me out to my truck.
The rain had eased to a drizzle, and the air smelled piney. Bertha sat in the muddy lot looking enormous and heroic, her hot pink paint loud under the facility lights.
Brovish looked at the truck with approval.
“She can take a beating and keep going,” I said.
“She?”
“Bertha.” I patted her hood. “My family has always named our vehicles.” Our houses, too, though I wasn’t going to get into that now.
He stood silhouetted in the warm light spilling from the building, fresh rain dripping from the tips of his shoulder-length hair.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I’ll check in on the clatterwing tomorrow,” I said. “I want to know how he does.”
“The code’s one-zero-zero-four,” he said. “In case you need—”
“I remember.”
He blinked. “You remember the code?”
“Yes.”
Surprise crossed his face. “Most people forget.”
I turned toward Bertha and reached for the door handle. The step stool was behind the seat. I’d have to—
Brovish’s big hands closed around my waist, and he lifted me like I weighed the same as Sofia. One smooth motion, and I sat in the driver’s seat, blinking down at him.
“Oh,” I said. Brilliant observation, Laina.
He stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. I’d just been hauled into my truck by an orc I’d met a short time ago, and I hadn’t hated it even a little bit.
He cleared his throat. “Drive carefully. Watch out for the fizzlings. They love scampering around in the rain and they can be a bit…shocking.”
I had no idea what a fizzling was, but I was excited to find out.
When he’d backed away, I shut the door and started the engine, easing my truck around and driving onto the main road.
I didn’t look back.
Okay, I did. He stood beside the door again, watching me leave.
I clutched the wheel and focused on the road ahead and the dark shapes moving between the trees. On anything except the fact that I’d spent the last two hours wanting to impress an orc I’d just met.
He’d offered me a full-time vet position at a creature rescue facility that took care of animals no one else here knew how to treat. Animals I’d spent two hours falling in love with.
I turned onto the main road, Bertha’s headlights cutting through the last of the rain.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder, and I glanced down.
Thank you again, Brovish texted. The clatterwing is resting. His name is Cooper.
I pulled over to the side of the road and typed back. You named him?
I name all of them. Even the ones we’re not supposed to get attached to because they’ll go to new homes.
Warmth unfurled in my chest.
That’s lovely.
I put my phone down, but the screen flashed with another message from him.
Sofia says hello. She’s sitting by the door, hoping you return.
I smiled at the dark road ahead and texted back. Tell her I miss her too.