4. Laina
CHAPTER FOUR
LAINA
I’d left the clinic early today. My partner had everything in hand, and she’d tried to corner me about the legal paperwork she’d laid on my desk.
One of the few tangible things still connecting me to my dad. It was going to be hard to let it go. He wouldn’t have agreed with the partner’s plans for the clinic. He would’ve fought the expansion, and I’d done so in his place, though my battle had mostly consisted of avoidance.
As I drove out to the rescue league, I told myself I was checking on Cooper. Professional follow-up. I’d said I would.
I didn’t examine why I’d stopped at my cottage and changed clothes three times before climbing back inside Bertha.
I punched the code into the gate, and it swung open with that same low groan. When I pulled through and it latched behind me, the tangle in my chest settled. It felt right to come here today.
The road looked different in daylight. Still wild and bordered by a high fence, but the creatures I’d only glimpsed in headlights were visible now.
A bloomback grazed near the tree line, flowers along its spine shifting colors as I passed.
A small, bright orange creature darted across the road ahead.
A mossnibble, maybe, or an emberkit like Sofia.
It disappeared into the underbrush before I could be sure.
I slowed Bertha to a crawl, watching.
This could be my job. Caring for these creatures. Coming to this place every single day.
I hadn’t let myself think about it too hard since I’d driven away. If I thought about it, I’d have to recognize what I was giving up. The clinic Dad had built with his partner. The routine I’d maintained since he died.
My life worked because it was predictable and safe.
But I’d spent part of my morning pulling up research articles on orc kingdom creatures. Texting questions to Dr. Halstead about interspecies treatment protocols. Rereading the field guide. And making lists of equipment I’d need, medications to stock, and books to order.
In my heart, I’d already left. I just hadn’t moved my things out of the clinic yet.
The facility appeared around the curve.
My pulse did something that had no business happening over a professional visit.
I parked Bertha out front and didn’t bother with the step stool, jumping down, my boots hitting damp ground.
Inside the main building, I came to a halt.
I’d walked in to check on a bird. I did not expect five orcs to look at me like I contained the answers to every question in the universe.
My face went hot under their attention.
Sofia launched herself at me before I’d finished closing the door behind me, landing on my shoulder with enough force I had to shift my weight to keep my balance.
“Hey, sweet girl,” I said, reaching up to stroke her spine. “Did you miss me?”
She trilled and nestled into my neck. Heat radiated from her small body, warming through my jacket.
The orcs remained where they were, standing in what I could only describe as a casual formation that was anything but casual. They’d spread themselves across the space like they’d arranged themselves for maximum visibility. None of them looked surprised to see me.
Brovish stood near the counter, his dark hair loose around his shoulders, his dark eyes locked on mine, his expression caught somewhere between pleased and mortified.
The orc beside him felt louder even though he wasn’t making a sound. He had the same medium green skin and dark hair, but his grin was enormous and his tusks were slightly longer than Brovish’s.
“Have you chosen a mate?” he asked, stepping forward. “Brovish remains unclaimed, and he’s gentle.”
“Drogar.” The way Brovish said the name made my heart flip over in my chest.
Another orc, a touch smaller than the others but still towering over me, lifted a mug off the counter, juggling a clipboard beneath his arm. He had a warm, open face and eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“You’ll want this,” he said, handing me the mug before I’d thought of taking my coat off. “It’s restorative. Also, do you have opinions on vellicharms?”
I blinked. “I… What?”
“Vellicharms. They mirror manners. They’re very polite most of the time but startling if they’ve been with someone rude.”
“Krem,” an orc standing to Brovish’s right said. He’d pulled his longish dark hair back and secured it with a strip of leather at his nape, and he held a tablet like it was an extension of his hand. “Back away. She has just arrived.”
“Yes, and she will require tea. This is part of the welcoming customs.” He smiled at me. “I’m Krem. I run our community activities. We’re happy to see you.”
The orc with the tablet stepped forward. “I’m Traig. I manage this place. You should disregard their enthusiasm.” He stared at me with the same intensity as the others, but his felt more analytical.
The last orc stood in the doorway to the hall, taller than the rest, broad-shouldered. He watched me with dark, steady eyes and said nothing, though he nodded once.
For some reason, that felt like approval.
“I’m Laina,” I said, because I felt like I should say something. “I came to see how Cooper is doing.”
“The clatterwing.” Krem nodded enthusiastically. “Brovish has checked on him twelve times today. Maybe fourteen. I lost count.”
Brovish’s lips twitched.
“He hasn’t eaten yet,” Traig said, glancing at his tablet. “But his breathing remains stable and there’s no sign of infection.”
I looked at Brovish. “You’ve been monitoring him.”
“Of course.”
“Did you log the checks?”
“In my notebook.”
“Good.” I took a sip of the tea Krem had handed me, finding it cool, refreshing, and faintly sweet, with an herbal note I couldn’t place. “That’s exactly what I would’ve done.”
Krem’s face lit up. “See? I told you she’d understand the system.”
“We don’t have a system,” Traig said.
“We do now. She just validated it.”
I hadn’t validated anything. I’d said I would’ve done the same thing Brovish did. But they all looked at me like I’d pronounced something important.
“For the vellicharm’s intake,” Traig said, scrolling on his tablet, “will you need us to set up the exam table in advance, or do you prefer to assess first and determine the space requirements after initial observation?”
I blinked at him.
I didn’t work here yet, and “yet” was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
“Hypothetically, I’d want to observe first,” I said slowly. “Get a sense of temperament before I start handling.”
“Perfect. That’s what I thought. I’ll make a note.”
He wrote something on his tablet with a beat-up stylus while I held my tea, realizing that I’d answered a question about a future event I hadn’t committed myself to.
Brovish’s gaze remained on me.
The orcs exchanged a look, a silent conversation that radiated group chat energy so strongly I almost expected to hear a notification sound.
“Can I see Cooper?” I asked.
“Yes.” Brovish moved toward the hallway. “This way.”
I followed him, Sofia still perched on my shoulder, and the noise of the entryway faded behind us.
The hallway felt quieter with only the two of us. My boots made soft sounds on the tile floor. His footsteps were heavier, steady.
He opened the door to the kennel room and stepped aside to let me through.
The room looked the same as it had last night. Clean counters, organized supplies, and the crates lined up along the far wall.
Brovish lifted Cooper’s crate up onto the exam table, leaving the cloth in place.
I set my tea down and lifted the corner of the cloth carefully.
I leaned closer to check Cooper’s wing, and Brovish angled his body to block the overhead light that had been casting a shadow across my work.
“Thank you,” I said.
His pointy-tipped ears darkened. “Of course.”
Cooper’s pale blue eyes tracked my movement, and he ruffled his feathers, making a soft chiming sound.
The food bowl was empty.
“He ate,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
Brovish crowded close, his arm brushing mine as he squinted at the bowl. “Good. I was worried.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to see.” I straightened, though I didn’t put any space between us. “You said you logged each exam today?”
He pulled a notebook from his back pocket and held it out to me.
The cover was worn, the edges soft. I opened it and found pages of neat, small handwriting. Each entry had been dated.
I flipped to Cooper’s page, skimming through what he’d written. There were three pages just for the bird, full of detailed, careful observations written in the same steady hand. I flipped back and found more names. More pages. Every creature had an entry.
“You really do name everyone,” I said, running my fingertip along the worn edge of the page.
“Yes.”
“And you write about all of them.”
He nodded.
I closed the notebook and held it out. Our fingers connected when he took it back, and I felt that brief touch all the way up my arm.
“Why?” I asked.
His large hands curled around the notebook. “Because we all want to be seen.”
My breath caught with nowhere to go.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “We do.”
I unlatched the crate and ran one finger along Cooper’s back. His feathers chimed softly, reminding me of distant bells.
“He’s doing well,” I said.
“You do good work.”
“We do good work.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “Yes.”
After I made sure the wrap would hold and resecured the crate, covering it with the cloth, we walked back to the entryway together, Sofia purring as she bobbed against my neck.
The other orcs stood around the desk, talking.
The words came out before I could stop them. “I’ll take the job.”
Drogar let out a whoop loud enough to make Sofia peep in alarm.
Krem beamed. “Perfect. I’ll add you to the schedule.”
Traig, sitting at the front desk, started tapping something into his tablet. Probably HR paperwork. Possibly a supply order. I had no idea, but he looked satisfied.
Greth, standing in the doorway, smiled, though it was more of a shift at the corners of his mouth.
Brovish didn’t say anything but the tension in his shoulders eased, his eyes went soft, and his expression opened up in a way that made my breath catch.