Page 85 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
“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.”
