Page 8 of Protective Pucking Orc

To my surprise, the kitling bristled. “I’m not little! I’m five! That’s this many!”

She held up two plump little fingers, and to my surprise, I had to tamp down the urge to smile again.

“I can see you are growing up quickly,” I acknowledged with a solemn nod. “But you are little to me.”

“That’s because you’re huge,” she pouted.

“Yes, I am.” I was large even among orc males; that’s why I played defense on the ice, and why my teammates called me The Wall. “I brought something for you.”

“A present? For me?” she squealed.

I distracted myself by pulling the art supplies from the nice bag from The Inkwell, laying them on the counter between us. “I don’t know if you like to color, Rosa, but I do.”

“You like to color?” the little girl gasped, reaching for the box of crayons. “I do too! What’s your favorite?”

“Red,” I announced, picking a color at random.

As I pulled out sheets of paper for us, Rosa opened the brand-new box of crayons, her little fingers making a mess of the packaging in her eagerness. She pulled out the red crayon and presented it proudly to me.

I nodded my solemn thanks and reached for it, allowing my claws to grow enough to pinch the tiny cylinder of wax. Instead of shying away from this display of otherness, Rosa leaned in, giggling, studying the way I had to carefully hold the crayon as I tried to draw…

I was not successful, and the crayon snapped in two.

Rather than crying, as I was afraid she might, the kitling merely continued her laughter, holding up the two broken pieces. “See? You’re too huge to color!”

“Nothing is impossible; we all need different tools.” I pulled out the set of large markers I’d made certain to buy. “These suit me better.”

By the time I uncapped the marker and begun to draw a cartoony dog, Rosa was perched on the stool beside me, draped over my arm, watching with satisfaction.

Rosa’s little fingers dug through the crayon box, her dark eyes alight with excitement. “Can we make it blue?” she asked, pointing at the dog I’d drawn. “Blue like the sky!”

I nodded solemnly as I passed her the paper. “Blue it is.”

She attacked the paper with the enthusiasm only a child could muster, her tongue peeking between her lips as she concentrated. I wondered if her mother looked like that when she was intent on something. When my Kteer purred at the thought, I pushed the thought away, forcing myself to focus on the next sketch.

“What’s that?” Rosa demanded, squinting at my attempt at a fish.

“A trout,” I said gravely. “They live in the rivers here.” I’d grown up hunting them in the summer to preserve with smoke.

“Do they have teeth?” Rosa leaned in, her breath warm against my arm.

“Some do.” I added jagged lines to the fish’s mouth, and she giggled.

“It looks scary!”

“Good.” I slid the paper toward her. “Color it red. Like a monster fish.”

She obeyed, chattering about the time she’d seen a goldfish at the pet store. “Mama says I can’t have one because they’re too espensib to take care of, but I promise I’d feed it every day, and they’d be like a friend for me!”

I didn’t answer, my throat suddenly thick. What was Sofia’s life like, that a goldfish was too expensive? I found myself aching to care for and protect these two females from life’s hurdles.

Sofia appeared beside us, her scent sharp with curiosity and something else—wariness? Fear? I kept my expression neutral as she set down my skillet and a fresh cup of coffee. “You two seem to be having fun,” she said, her voice carefully light.

Rosa didn’t even look up. “Dakvaar’s drawing with me, Mama! Look, I made the dog blue!”

Sofia’s gaze flicked between us, lingering on the way Rosa’s small body was pressed against my side. I could smell her tension, the faintest hint of fear beneath the warmth of her usual scent. My Kteer snarled, urging me to reach for her, to vow to her I’d never hurt them.

They’re not yours to protect.