“We know,” Holly said. “But Max has been interested in what you do, and Carla’s trying to understand the program for her consulting work. Aunt Inla and I thought we could learn what makes this rodeo program special. Then we can talk it up with our customers.”
I wanted to say no. I preferred working alone, without an audience watching every move and asking questions. Especially not when that audience included humans who thought livestock handling was something you could learn by watching a few demonstrations.
But Max was looking at me with that hopeful expression I couldn’t resist, and Carla was studying my face like she was trying to read my mood. If this program was going to succeed as a tourist attraction, people would need to understand what they were watching. Better to start with locals who actually lived here.
“Fine,” I said, probably more sharply than necessary. “But you stay behind the fence, and if I say move, you do it. No questions, no hesitation.”
“Cool.” Max pumped his fist in the air.
Aunt Inla beamed at me and started unpacking food. “I brought extra, in case you get hungry during the demonstration.”
Twenty minutes later, I found myself with the strangest training session audience I’d ever imagined. Holly and Aunt Inla sat on the fence rail, each drinking a container of that human beverage, coffee. A nasty liquid I’d spit out the first time I’d tried it.
They also kept commenting on everything. Max had positioned himself where he could see every detail, his tablet out to take notes like he was documenting a scientific discovery.And Carla stood at the barrier with her own tablet, watching everything with the intense focus I was beginning to recognize as her default mode.
“Today we’re working with Thrakul on basic commands and movement patterns.” I led the large sorhox into the arena. “The goal is to demonstrate the difference between sorhox handling and traditional livestock management for rodeo applications.”
Thrakul snorted and tossed his head. The creature had always enjoyed attention, which would be useful since we planned to use him with tourists.
“He knows we’re watching,” Carla said, making a note.
“Sorhoxes are smart. They read situations, understand context. That’s going to be important for rodeo events where there are crowds and noise.” I ran my hand along Thrakul’s side, feeling the familiar calm that came from working with creatures who understood me better than most people did. “Watch his ears.”
I guided Thrakul through a series of movements, including stops, turns, backing up, and responding to voice commands and hand signals. The sorhox performed with ease, but I could see him keeping one eye on our audience, adjusting his posture to look more impressive.
“The pressure points are completely different from horses,” I said. “Their bone structure means you have to adjust your approach entirely. See how I’m positioning my hands here? With horses, you apply pressure at the shoulder to initiate a turn, but with sorhoxes, you need to signal at the base of the neck instead.”
I’d learned all that online. At first, I didn’t care one bit how horses responded, but I’d quickly realized that the humans who’d come here for an orc rodeo experience would only know horses. If I could compare the commands, it would add to their experience.
“How long does it take to train sorhoxes for something like barrel racing?” Carla asked, making notes.
“Like with a horse, it depends on the individual animal and what you’re asking them to do. Basic commands, maybe six months. Complex patterns for entertainment…” I considered it. “A year, minimum. Maybe two.”
I could see her processing that information, probably calculating timelines and costs. Most consultants would be pushing for faster results, but she only nodded.
“What about crowd tolerance?” she asked. “If we’re running this as a tourist attraction, they’ll need to be able handle noise and excitement.”
“That’s separate training entirely.” I guided Thrakul into a more complex pattern, weaving between obstacles I’d set up around the arena. “Watch how he responds to my voice even when he’s focused on the course.”
Thrakul moved through the pattern easily, his ears swiveling to track my hand commands while his eyes stayed fixed on the obstacles ahead. It was the kind of demonstration that usually impressed people, and judging by the quiet murmurs from the fence, it was working.
“Could you do that with multiple sorhoxes at once?” Max asked.
“Not safely. Not yet.” I brought Thrakul to a stop and rewarded him with a scratch behind his ear. He rumbled with happiness. “Sorhoxes are herd animals, but they need individual relationships with their handlers first. You can’t throw them together and hope for the best.”
“How do you build trust with them?” Carla asked.
“Time. Consistency. Respect. They don’t follow you because you’re bigger or stronger. They follow because they choose to.”
“Like orcs,” Max said.
I looked at him, surprised by the observation. “What?”
“You guys don’t do things because someone tells you to. You do them because you decide they’re worth doing.”
Out of the mouths of younglings. The boy had been paying more attention than I’d given him credit for.
“That’s accurate,” I said.
