18. Brovish
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
brOVISH
Sofia had claimed the shelf nearest the window an hour ago, her tail wrapped tight around her feet, her round body rigid. She hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t moved. Just watched the empty road.
I’d reorganized the medical supply cabinet twice.
Maybe three times. The bandages didn’t need moving.
Laina’s system was better than mine. But my hands needed something to do that wasn’t clenching into fists or checking the window every thirty seconds to see if Sofia had spotted something I’d missed.
Carol Mercer had asked good questions yesterday.
Thoughtful ones, though without warmth. She’d studied the facility the way kingdom inspectors scrutinized border enclosures, looking for the cracks first and noting the structure second.
I’d watched her face when she saw Abagail’s twins, and for one breath, I’d sworn she was going to smile.
She hadn’t.
I put the gauze rolls back where they’d been at the start and closed the cabinet doors.
Through the window above the sink, the yard sat quiet and wet under a flat gray sky. The gate hadn’t opened yet, but Sofia stared through the glass, tracking something I hadn’t heard. Her tail curled tight around her feet.
She’d been watching for over an hour.
I wasn’t sure all we were doing would be enough.
Sofia launched off the shelf, shooting through the doorway, her orange glow arcing down the hallway toward the entryway. I followed at a slower pace, which meant I was nearly running.
Laina came through the front door first, shaking rain from her coat. Carol entered a step behind her, wearing white pants that already had a smear of mud on the hem.
Sofia flew at her at full speed.
Carol saw her coming and her hands went up, her arms windmilling backward. “Oh. Oh my!”
Sofia veered, redirecting to Laina’s shoulder. She landed and tucked herself against Laina’s neck. Pivoting her head, she scowled at Carol.
Carol lowered her hands slowly, straightening her jacket.
“She flew at me,” she said. “She has claws.”
“Her name is Sofia,” Laina said.
“Right. Of course. No harm done. She’s just an animal.”
Laina’s shoulders tightened.
Sofia’s tail flicked once and went still.
Drogar appeared from the hallway, a bucket in each hand. He looked between Carol and the emberkit with the expression he gave the fizzlings when they were overcharging.
“The emberkit made her choice?” he asked.
“She’s with Laina today,” I said.
“Not with the elder.”
“Drogar.”
He turned and went back down the hallway.
Carol spent the morning following us through the facility like an auditor with a checklist, nodding at Krem’s explanations, asking Traig about insurance protocols, and watching everything with the expression of someone looking for deficiencies.
By the time we reached the mirrormoose enclosure, I’d counted her frowns. Seven. She stood at the open gate now with her arms crossed over her chest, one heel sunk in mud, watching Laina and me work.
The mirrormoose had been calmer this morning than yesterday.
She was settling. Her antlers were pale, which was good, and she’d come to the fence line when we’d approached rather than holding position at the far end.
Small signs I’d learned to read during my life in the orc kingdom.
I’d passed most of it on to Laina, who’d absorbed it and added her own layer to mine.
I handed her the stethoscope from the bag.
She took it without looking up, already leaning toward the mirrormoose’s chest.
Carol stood to Laina’s left, watching everything.
The mirrormoose shifted her weight and her hide rippled, catching the gray morning light. The enclosure fence reflected across her flank. The shed appeared and slid toward her hindquarters. When she turned to observe Carol, the older woman’s image reflected back.
Carol noticed and frowned. “I see… It’s me, but it isn’t. I’m not sure I like this.”
Not liking what she saw of herself? That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The mirrormoose stomped her hooves, changing the angle, and Carol’s reflection dissolved into the tree line.
“She’s settling in nicely,” Laina said, moving around to the animal’s far side. “Her stress markers have dropped since she arrived.”
“The open sightline to the north helped,” I said. “She likes to know the route before she commits to stillness.”
“That tracks. Her cortisol levels in the first bloodwork were high.”
“Yes. Krem’s notes from intake flagged it.”
Laina came back around to our side and glanced up.
The mirrormoose changed position again, turning back toward the open gate.
This time Laina and I both appeared on her flank.
We stood close together, both bent toward the tablet in Laina’s hand.
The image held for a moment. Me, so much bigger than her, the angle of my head toward hers.
Then the mirrormoose moved and the reflection broke apart.
A hiss escaped Carol.
“You mentioned a handling protocol for stress response,” she said, her voice back to its careful register. “I noticed you’re both working very closely together. Is that standard practice? Are there professional boundary protocols in place?”
The question hit exactly where she’d aimed it.
Laina wrote something on her tablet. “Our protocols are documented in the facility manual. Krem will send you a copy if you’d like.”
“Yes, I believe he should.”
We’d turned back to the mirrormoose when a crash came from inside the building, followed by a creature bleating.
Laina and I looked at each other.
“Something got loose,” we said.
We rushed past Carol and toward the open back door of the facility, the older woman picking her way across the grass, her heels poking into the ground.
The ongoing bleats and bangs led us to the medical supply room and an open cabinet on the lower level.
The larger snugglethorn twin stood inside the cabinet with her front hooves on a box of examination gloves, her back hooves on what had been a neatly stacked row of sterile dressing packets.
She’d scattered half the cabinet in a matter of minutes.
“You,” I said. “How did you get out of your pen?”
She peered over her shoulder at me.
I glared.
She scampered forward, burying herself deeper inside the cabinet.
“Grab her,” Laina said, trying to angle herself forward.
“How did she get out?” Carol asked from the doorway. “I thought you said the creatures were well-contained.”
They were supposed to be but some just…found a way to escape. It was in their nature.
“The gate self-latches but the secondary catch requires a nudge.” Drogar had cleaned the snugglethorn pen and changed their water. The gate must not have fully closed when he left.
Drogar appeared in the doorway behind Carol. He took in the situation and a grin rose on his face. “Ah. The snugglethorn beauty is exploring.”
“She’s inside my supply cabinet,” Laina said.
“Exploring the supply cabinet. It’s an enclosed space and must offer the stimulation she’s seeking.” He set down the bucket he was holding and came over to crouch in front of the open door, clicking his tongue. “Come, small one. Come out to Drogar.”
The snuggler retreated further. Glass clinked against metal.
“You’re making it worse,” Traig said from somewhere behind us.
“I haven’t touched her,” Drogar said. “I’ve only used my voice.”
“Your voice is very large.”
“I speak in a normal—”
“She’s going further back,” Laina said.
Drogar sat back on his heels and surveyed the problem. “There’s a small opening in the back, and she’s squeezed herself into the space.” His gaze landed on Carol. “You have small human hands, yes?”
Carol blinked, her gaze shooting to her hands before returning to Drogar. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your hands are smaller than ours.” He lifted his own for comparison, spreading his fingers wide. “A small approach hand will make less fear response in the creature’s mind. She’ll accept you where she would run from me. This is the pattern I’ve observed.”
“I am not crawling inside a supply cabinet. Ask Laina.”
“I believe you’re the proper person for this task.”
“Why me?”
“You wouldn’t need to fully go inside. Only your arm and perhaps your upper body.” He measured the cabinet opening with his hands. “Your shoulder. And your head. The upper chest area.”
Carol stared at him.
Laina pressed her fingers over her mouth.
“I’ve performed this exact method with six different creatures,” Drogar said, completely serious.
“You lower your body, you slide one arm, head, and chest inside, and you make a very calming sound. No extra movements. No eye contact. You simply exist in the space until she decides you’re not threatening. ”
“I simply exist in the cabinet?” Carol asked.
“Yes.”
There was a long pause in which Carol Mercer, who had arrived in white pants and diamond earrings, considered the logistics of being partially inside a supply cabinet in a creature rescue facility in rural Maine while an orc explained the finer points of small animal extraction.
She lowered herself to her knees.
“If this ruins these pants,” she said, “someone is paying for the dry cleaning.”
“I will see to it myself,” Drogar said. He was already guiding her into position with care, his hands hovering near but not quite touching her shoulders, directing her like she was a creature being coaxed into a new enclosure. “Now. Arm extended. Palm up. You’re not grabbing. You’re offering.”
Carol’s upper body disappeared into the cabinet.
A shuffling sound echoed from inside, followed by her yelp. But she inched inside farther, her arm extended. The twin’s small dark nose appeared in the gap at the back of the cabinet, sniffing the older woman’s fingers.
Carol didn’t move.
The twin crept toward Carol’s hand, still sniffing, her ears pricked forward.
“Don’t move,” Drogar breathed.
The twin took one step toward Laina’s mother, then another, her front hooves thudding on the base of the cabinet. She lowered her head and pressed her nose against Carol’s palm.
With a bleat, she scampered toward Carol, jumping up onto the older woman’s back.
Carol yelped again. The snugglethorn bleated, prancing around on Carol’s back. Fortunately, baby snugglethorns were born with soft, pliable hooves. They toughened as they grew older.
Carol made a sound I’d never heard a human make, half-strangled laugh, half-disbelieving wheeze.
Her silk blouse had rucked up, showing a pale strip of back, and dirt streaked her formerly pristine white pants.
The snugglethorn stood between her shoulder blades, its hooves planted wide, surveying her new territory.
“This is not how I expected to spend my day,” Carol said, her voice muffled by the cabinet.
The twin leaned down and sniffed her hair.
“Don’t stand up yet,” Drogar said. “Let her decide she’s finished.”
“She’s on my back,” Carol croaked from inside the cabinet.
“Yes.”
“There is a goat on my back.”
“She’s a snugglethorn. A completely different species than a goat.”
“There’s a goat-adjacent creature on my back, and I’m half inside a cabinet and this is—” Carol laughed. “This is oddly fun.”
Fun?
Laina and I exchanged a raised eyebrow look.
The twin leaned down and sniffed Carol’s hair again.
“She approves of your scent presence,” Drogar said, beaming. “You have natural creature magnetism. Not everyone has this. Traig doesn’t.”
“I don’t want it,” Traig said from the doorway.
Laina and I started laughing.
Laina directed her gaze to her mother as the twin dropped to its belly, settling on Carol’s back as if it was time to take a nap.
“How long must I remain in this position?” Carol asked, her voice strangled.
I scooped up the snugglethorn and tucked her under my arm, her legs dangling.
“I’ve got her,” I said.
Carol extracted herself from the cabinet with a smear of something on her left sleeve. She stood and smoothed her blouse.
“Well.” Her voice had gone breathless. She looked down at the twin, who was attempting to eat the front of her pants, and her face loosened. It wasn’t a smile, but close. “I suppose I understand why Laina finds some of this appealing.”
The twin butted her head against Carol’s arm.
“You’ll need to make sure she doesn’t escape again,” Carol said. “She could get hurt.”
“I’ll see to it myself,” Drogar said. “About the cleaning of your pants in a dry way…”
Carol glanced down. “Oh, I’m not worried about a little mud.”
“You’re not?” Laina asked.
“It won’t be the first time I’ve gotten dirty.” Carol stroked the snuggler’s face. “This little one didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Laina’s eyes couldn’t widen any further. “We can spray your clothing when we get home.”
“Or throw the pants out,” Carol said. “I believe I need to wear darker clothing the next time I visit.”