Page 89 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
I leaned back in my chair. “Observations about the creatures. Their patterns of behavior, what they ate, what they avoid, and when they change. I’ve always written things down. It settles me.”
She held out her hand. “May I see it?”
I’d shown it to Laina, and the moment had mattered more than I’d known how to say. Handing it to Carol felt different. Riskier.
I lifted it off the desk and held it out.
She opened it to the first page and started reading. She turned pages steadily, not skimming. Her expression stayed neutral, and I got the feeling she was working to keep it that way.
When she paused, I knew which pages she’d reached.
She read through the entire journal.
I didn’t speak because I’d learned that Laina’s mother approached everything with caution.
Finally, she closed the notebook.
“You care for my daughter,” she said softly.
“I do. She’s special.”
Carol raked her lower teeth across her upper lip. “She’s always been good at her work. Since she was a little girl, tagging along with Dave to farm calls at six in the morning. She has excellent instincts.” She handed the notebook back. “He encouraged her, told her she could one day care for animals just like he did. He would’ve been delighted that she took over his clinic. Disappointed that she was selling it to his old partner. I still cannot believe my daughter is willing to set aside his entire life.”
“She was ready for a change.”
“A change that takes her away from everything she’s ever loved.”
“She stayed at the clinic because it was the last piece of him. If she let it go, she’d lose what remained. That’s not choosing. That’s grief making decisions.”
Carol’s gaze traveled to the window behind me. “And here she remains, still stuck in this small town. Working at a rescue operation. Creatures who need her specifically.” Her attention fell on me again. “You see the pattern.”
“She recognized something here was worth building and moved toward it instead of standing still.”
“How is that not standing still?”
I sought the right words and found kingdom ones first, which I worried she wouldn’t understand. Surface words couldn’t show her what I hoped to describe. “Where I come from, when a healer stays at their post for the wrong reasons, the person feels it. They stop trusting the hands that treat them because those hands and mind are somewhere else.” I kept my voice steady. “The creatures here don’t behave like that. They come to her. Sofia chose her on the first night. That’s?—”
Carol waited.
“She belongs here,” I said. “She could’ve gone anywhere, but she chose to be here. This is the place she can grow into.”
Carol’s expression could’ve been carved from stone.
“What do you truly want from my daughter?” she asked.
“I want to give her whatever she needs. If it’s me, good. If she chooses something or someone else, I’ll support her. If she wishes to stay, I hope to build something here alongside her. I want her to know her value isn’t only in what she can do for the creatures or for this facility. She needs to see she’s valued for herself.”
Carol studied me with the same assessing focus she’d used on the mirrormoose. “You’ve only known her a month.”
“That’s true.”
“And in that month you’ve developed intentions you’re prepared to declare to her mother.”
“You asked.”
She looked down at her hands clasped on her lap.
“If you know my daughter even a little, you know what she shows when she’s excited about a creature and what she looks like when she’s doing work she loves. You know the version of her that’s running toward something.” She looked up. “Do you know what she’s running from?”
