Page 4 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

Was that her only distinguishing characteristic?

“Vans are nice,” I said.

“They are.” Drogar set the crate on the counter in front of me, leaning on the desk with both hands beside it.

“Where are you from?” he asked. “Do you like creatures? Have you ever seen a grumbletoad?”

I laughed. “Maine, yes, and I’m about to?”

“Drogar,” Traig said. “She’s orienting.”

Drogar waved this off with a flick of his hand. “She can orient and meet Fred.”

He opened the crate enough for me to peer inside.

A low, grumbling sound emerged.

“Amazing,” I breathed, studying the round creature with short, black-and-white fur, spotted like a tiny cow, his tiny wings folded against his sides.

“Does he always scowl like that?” I asked.

“They do,” Drogar said, stiffening his spine.

“He’s adorable.”

“He’s also loud when he likes you,” Drogar said.

The grumbling intensified.

“See?” Drogar said. “You’re fitting in well already.”

Traig watched me with an expression I couldn’t read, though it vaguely matched the look on the grumbletoad’s face.

I chose not to mention that, however.

Yet another orc strode out of the hallway on my left, holding a binder so thick it could double as a weapon.

“Willa?” he said, stopping beside Drogar. “I’m Krem. I do community outreach and handle our social media. I prepared an orientation binder in case you needed one.”

He held it up. Three inches thick, with colorful tabs. These orcs sure loved big books and tabs.

“Traig made one,” I said. “A digital version.”

Krem’s gaze fell on Traig. “Is it thorough?”

Traig huffed. “Very.”

“How many pages?”

“Krem.”

Krem nodded and left, taking the binder with him.

This had to be orc central, because another orc strolled through the entryway within seconds, though he didn’t stop. He made eye contact with me and nodded once before strolling down the other hallway.

“That’s Greth,” Drogar said. “He doesn’t talk much.”

I wondered if the nod meant approval, acknowledgment, or something else.