Page 10 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
CHAPTER THREE
BROVISH
I’d checked on Cooper four times since dawn broke. Each time I told myself it would be the last. He didn’t need me peering beneath the towel covering his crate. The fabric blocked the light and reduced stimulation. He needed to rest.
But I was worried about him. He wasn’t eating or drinking much.
The clatterwing’s breathing stayed even, and his feathers chimed whenever he shifted.
Sofia sat on my shoulder, her round body pressed against my neck the same way she’d nestled into Laina last night. The emberkit kept peeping and swiveling her head toward the door, waiting for Laina to walk through.
“She’s not coming back yet,” I told her.
Sofia peeped again, louder this time.
“She said she’d check in. That doesn’t mean she’ll drive all the way out here. She may call.”
The emberkit shifted against my collarbone, her wings rustling, and warmth radiated from her small body.
I checked Cooper’s water bowl. Still full. His food, strips of raw meat I’d prepared before Laina arrived, sat untouched. That was normal for the first night after an injury. The sedation still lingered. I told myself he’d eat when he was ready.
I pulled my notebook from my back pocket and flipped to Cooper’s page. I’d started it last night after Laina left, writing down everything I remembered about the injury, the treatment plan she’d gone through, and how his breathing had evened out once the wing was stabilized.
I added a new dated entry.Morning check. No food yet. Water level barely diminished. Breathing steady. Resting position suggests minimal pain.
My handwriting looked messier than usual. I’d been tired when I wrote the first entry, but this one was worse. The letters wobbled.
I kept thinking about Laina’s hands.
Her fingers had worked through Cooper’s feathers, testing the wing’s structure. She’d known exactly what she was looking for, and when she’d found the fracture on the X-ray, she hadn’t hesitated. She’d moved straight to fixing it.
I’d worked with a lot of veterinarians, both here and back in the orc kingdom. All of them were competent. Some were excellent. But I’d rarely seen anyone work the way Laina had, like the creature in front of her was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Sofia left my shoulder and flew over to the counter near the door, landing lightly. She tucked her wings against her body and fixed her gaze on the hallway.
“She’s not here,” I said.
I’d checked as well.
The emberkit made a low trilling sound and didn’t move.
Leaning forward, I wrote again.
I’ve spent my life filling notebooks with the wonders of the Orc Kingdom, but those were just rehearsals. My ink finally has a purpose: to record every way Laina Mercer makes the world feel special again.
Should I cross them out? They felt like too much and not enough, all at the same time.
Unsettled, I closed my notebook and shoved it back in my pocket. “I’m going to work. Stay there if you want.”
Morning rounds started early.
It was the one part of the day when everyone came together, even the ones who weren’t scheduled for care shifts. We’d started the tradition when we first opened the operation, back when there were only three of us and twice as many creatures as we knew what to do with.
Now it was routine. Walk through the facility. Check on every penned creature, inside and out. Make sure nothing had changed overnight.
Traig was waiting in the lobby when I strode down the hall, his tablet in hand, his dark hair pulled back in its usual tie. He glanced up as I approached, his midnight-black eyes scanning my frame.
Sofia followed me, landing on the reception desk, her gaze fixed on the front door.
