Page 101 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
The eggs Brovish had just set in front of me might as well have been made of cardboard.
He’d cut the toast into triangles. Neat diagonal slices, the way my mother used to do when I was small enough to believe she’d never leave.
Something lodged in my windpipe, and I worried it would never go down.
“My mother will be here in twenty minutes,” I said.
He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. “Then we have nineteen minutes to eat breakfast together.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“I know.” But he didn’t move his hand. “Eat anyway. You’ll need the steadiness.”
He understood that facing my mother required being anchored to something.
I picked up my fork because he was right, and because the eggs were good, rich, and warm. They felt like comfort.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For eggs?”
“For the triangles.” My voice croaked. “And for knowing I needed them.”
We finished breakfast and washed the dishes.
When we were done, he turned to face me, his hands still damp from the sink.
“Whatever happens today with your mother, you’re not alone,” he said.
“You’re right.”
I rose on my toes, and he curled down to meet me for a kiss.
We walked to the main building together. The morning had turned bright and clear. A bloomback grazed near the western fence, its flowers shifting from pale yellow to soft pink as we passed.
Inside, the facility hummed with morning activity. Drogar had brought the fizzlings inside for their supervised static discharge. Krem was rearranging something in the supply room.
Greth appeared from the hallway and nodded once in our direction.
“Cooper’s big day,” Traig said. He sat at the entryway desk, reviewing the schedule on his tablet. “Is he still ready to be released?”
I’d been so focused on my mother’s impending arrival that I’d almost forgotten.
“Let me check on him first,” I said.
Brovish fell into step beside me as I headed out the back door and walked over to Cooper’s pen.
He perched near the top of the enclosure, his feathers catching the morning light. When I approached, he made the soft chiming sound to show he recognized me.
“Good morning,” I said. “Today’s the day. Are you ready?”
He tilted his head, studying me with one pale blue eye.
“I know. It’s a big decision. But your wing is healed, and you’ve been practicing your flights. You’re ready for this.”
“We have a saying about creatures who recover from injury,” Brovish said. “The wing that mends teaches the bird new ways of flying.Healing changes you. You don’t return to what you were. You become something that knows both falling and flight.”
Cooper studied Brovish.
