I walked back toward the hotel with something that might be hope bubbling in my chest. Maybe I hadn’t completely destroyed this opportunity after all. I could prove myself here and build something important.
The Christmas decorations strewn around this quaint little tourist town looked even more magical in the morning sunlight, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I let myself imagine what it might be like to actually belong in a place like this, to be part of a community instead of just passing through.
To have a place where someone expected me to show up tomorrow.
The thought scared me almost as much as it thrilled me, but I held onto it anyway.
Chapter 2
Becken
Iwoke before dawn, the same as every day. No alarm needed. My body had learned the rhythm of responsibility years ago. It was so ingrained into my bones that I woke before light hit the sky and got sleepy with darkness.
The hotel room felt too small, too closed in, but it was temporary. Everything about the surface was supposed to be temporary. If I chose to remain here, and I was still unsure about whether I would or not, my cousins and I would build a small ranch house for me like the ones they lived in. If I chose to leave, it wouldn’t matter where I lived. The only concern then would be who would take over the rodeo.
I dressed in the dark and headed out into the December morning. Lonesome Creek was quiet at this hour, the way I preferred it. No tourists asking questions about sorhoxes, no well-meaning townspeople trying to rope me into their holiday preparations. Only me, the work, and the familiar weight of purpose that kept the memories at bay.
The Christmas lights were still on, twinkling from every building like some kind of human obsession with brightness. Strings of red and green bulbs outlined every window, garlandwrapped around every lamppost, and someone had put up an enormous inflatable Santa in the town square that made an irritating whooshing sound every time the wind hit it.
I didn’t understand it. Back in the orc kingdom, we marked the turning of seasons with practical celebrations. We honored the harvest, prepared for winter, and acknowledged the cycle of life and death. These surface dwellers seemed determined to deny that darkness existed at all.
Three different storefronts already had signs advertising “Christmas Special Tours” and “Holiday Experiences.” The tourist season was ramping up, which meant more strangers tramping through town asking questions and expecting entertainment. The sooner I got this rodeo program operational, the sooner I could retreat to the arena and let someone else deal with managing the crowds.
Carla perhaps. We could hire her permanently and make her do it.
Yesterday had been different. Carla had surprised me, not only with her apology and willingness to listen, but with her competence. She’d fixed the gate latch I’d been struggling with for days and worked beside me without complaint. She’d asked intelligent questions about the sorhoxes.
I’d found myself looking forward to her starting full-time this morning, which was problematic. Anticipation meant attachment, and attachment was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
The arena was my sanctuary. Here, surrounded by the familiar smells of hay and leather and the low rumbles of sorhoxes greeting the morning, I could focus on what mattered. I grabbed my clipboard and started planning the training session I’d promised to show her. If we were going to turn this into a legitimate tourist attraction, she needed to understand exactly what sorhoxes were capable of and what they weren’t.
Thrakul would be good for demonstrations. He was calm, responsive, and used to being handled.
I was making notes about which exercises would best showcase sorhox capabilities for potential rodeo events when I heard voices approaching.
Multiple voices.
I looked up to see Carla walking toward the arena, but she wasn’t alone. Holly was with her, along with Max, and Aunt Inla trailed behind them, carrying a basket heaped with what looked like enough food to feed half the town.
My good mood evaporated.
“Morning, Becken,” Holly called out. “We brought breakfast.”
I stared at them. “Why?”
“Because Carla mentioned you start work early, and nobody should have to work on an empty stomach.” Aunt Inla set down a basket that smelled like fresh bread and drundeg, which was similar to human bacon, though the beast it came from was different. “Also, when Carla mentioned the training session you were running this morning, Max wanted to watch.”
Of course he did. And of course they’d all decided to turn my work into a community event.
“Can I, Becken, please?” Max bounced on his toes, his glasses sliding down his nose. “I love sorhoxes.”
He’d worked with some of the younger ones with my cousin, Hail, back when they first arrived, but since then, he’d mostly been helping in the bakery.
I looked at Carla, who had the grace to look apologetic. “I might have mentioned to Holly that you were planning a demonstration today. She got excited about the idea of a community learning experience.”
As if my work was some kind of educational entertainment for bored townspeople.
“This isn’t a show,” I said carefully, keeping my voice level despite the irritation building in my chest. “It’s work. Professional evaluation.”
