Page 10 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

I added ground carataugh to the pan.

Humans were so much smaller than orcs. The top of Willa’s head had barely passed my elbow. Yet Brovish and Laina didn’t find this a problem. Neither did many of the orcs who’d taken human mates. Willa was equally tiny, though a bit taller than Laina. And curvy. She’d climbed into the break room chair with both hands on the seat and settled, looking sweet with her feet dangling in the air.

Tomorrow, I’d tell Brovish that we should purchase human-scale seating. Laina had probably been dealing with the same issue for months.

I’d forgotten to mention it until now.

That was all.

I stirred the mixture until the meat had cooked through, then scooped some up onto a plate, adding a piece of vrindal I’d toasted and spread thickly with butter. Butter was a human thing, but I loved it. I put it on almost anything, to my friends’ amusement.

When Fred’s grumble rose in volume, I picked out some of the vegetables and put them on a smaller dish for him, placing it on the counter. He floated over and started to eat.

“Do not get used to me cooking for you,” I told him.

His grumbles grew louder.

That reminded me of how Willa had held her bread at lunch. She’d turned it in her hands before taking a bite, measuring its weight and texture before committing.

She’d asked three questions during the orientation. Four, if I counted the one about the filing system that she’d phrased as a clarification rather than a true question. She’d tucked her hair behind her ear multiple times. The left side, not the right. She’d smiled at every orc she met, but the smile had shifted slightly with each one. Wider for Brovish, softer for Laina, and more cautious for me until I’d answered her question about intake protocols. Only then had it warmed.

I needed to stop thinking about things like this. I’d read it was good to leave work behind. Yet, here I was, thinking about our new office manager.

I sat at my table that had two chairs, though no one had ever sat in the second one, and ate quickly. The food tasted good. I’d made the dish correctly. The seasoning held the right balance of spiciness and salt.

Then I realized the issue.

My cottage was too quiet. That was the problem. I’d just never noticed that before.

I dragged my tablet closer and opened tomorrow’s task list. Intake processing. Enclosure protocols. The driftwhisp feeding schedule that needed updating. I’d do that now while I had time to think without interruption. Without someone frowning at my filing cabinets and disrupting my carefully maintained systems.

After I’d handled the driftwhisp issue, I got up and washed the dishes. I left the kitchen, stopping in the center of the adjacent living area.

Fred fluttered in behind me, landing on the back of my sofa.

Watching me.

“This is my space,” I said. “I built it to my specifications. Everything here works exactly as I need it to.”

Fred tilted his head, clearly listening, his grumbles growing louder.

My home had solid walls, good insulation, and it was far enough from the other buildings that I could think without interruption.

Then why couldn’t I settle?

I tightened my grip on my tablet and left my home, striding back toward the rescue building with Fred drifting behind me.

I’d already organized the supply room. Reorganized it. Done it again. No one had disrupted it since my last reorganization, thankfully. But there was no harm in making sure the latest supply delivery had been placed in the proper locations.

I’d show Willa the room tomorrow, and it needed to look just right.

When I reached the building, I took Fred around to the back and the pen Drogar had built for him, urging him inside. I ignored how his grumbles thinned to almost nothing while securing the gate.

“You can’t sleep with me tonight,” I said.

His grumbles faded to nothing as I turned and went inside the building.

A short time later, I stood in the doorway with my label maker and told myself this wasn’t a bad thing to do.