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“Or lose by less points,” Morag grumbled.

The arguments ceased, and we hardly had time for more than a few cups of water before Willa was leading us through the arena hallways and into a huge room with high ceilings. All along one side piles of thick metal chains were bolted to the wall. Nearest to us, a heavy rope was also attached to the wall. I assumed this was the battle rope and eyed it with interest, desiring to pull out my phone and ask the internet to let me see a video on this exercise, but not wanting to offend Willa with my lack of attention.

“Everyone take one of those chains and stretch it out full length on the floor,” the human female said, demonstrating with the rope.

We did as she commanded, each of us straightening a chain and waiting for further instructions.

“Now I want you to pick up the end of your chain with both hands, squat with your body weight balanced but slightly in your heels. Then I want you to move your arms up and down to create a wave-like motion with the chain.” At our confused looks, she grinned and gripped the end of the rope. “Like this.”

We watched her demonstration with interest. It looked simple, but I had concerns about our ability to maintain a steady rhythm with the chains.

“Make sure you’re using your legs to drive the motion as well as your arms.” She dropped her rope and turned to face us, hands on her hips. “Go.”

The noise was deafening. I winced knowing that every one of us was suffering. An orc’s hearing was far more sensitive than a humans, and the loud sound of the chains on the floor echoed throughout the huge room. I made a mental note to buy many sets of ear plugs from the internet store and have them delivered before tomorrow’s workout. A hockey team of deaf orcs was probably not what Willa intended when she assigned us this exercise.

Besides the loud banging, the chains caused another distressing effect. They were cracking and chipping the floor with each wave, causing a fine white dust to rise in the air around us. A few orcs began to sneeze. Others were obviously trying to hold their breath. None of us stopped the activity, though. No one wanted to incur Willa’s wrath. And none of us wanted to appear weak in front of our teammates.

By the time Willa shouted for us to stop, we were all coated with a thin film of the dust clinging to our sweat. The human winced, telling us to take another quick break for water and a wipe-down with the towels outside the locker room. The break was over too quickly and Willa had us back on the treadmills. Thankfully this time we did not run, but walked briskly with the platforms level, in what she called a “cool down”.

I had assumed this “cool down” would signal the end of our workout routine. I was wrong. Willa took us from the treadmill spot into an adjacent room with boxes of various heights scattered in a winding path along the floor.

“These are box jumps,” Willa told us. “You are to jump with both feet from the floor onto the top of the jump, then down, then move on to the next box on the path and do the same. Just to make this interesting, I’m going to time each of you on the course. The orc who completes the course in the least time without falling or failing to land both feet on and off each box will be the winner.”

“Of a cannoli?” Pug asked eagerly.

Morag snorted and I elbowed him. Yes, Pug was very motivated by pastries, but we had all become somewhat addicted to the cannoli that Ozar had awarded to who he’d considered to be the best player after each of our away games. Morag was just as interested in earning a cannoli as Pug was.

Willa gave the orc an odd look. “Ummm, okay?”

There was a roar of approval, and each of us threw every bit of effort into this box-jumping competition, no matter how exhausted we might be. At the end of the exercise, we were all shocked to discover the winner was Eng.

Eng.

The orc never left the wall during our games, glaring at all of us instead of participating. But for some reason, he had put unusual effort into every one of these exercises. He’d run on the treadmill, lifted the weights-on-a-stick, ran the hallway and threw balls at his partner, and even waved the chain with surprising strength. He didn’t linger during our brief breaks and had stepped forward to be the first to perform this activity. I had no idea what had suddenly motivated the male, but I wasn’t going to complain. I also wasn’t going to assume this rare participation would mean anything different from him on the ice.

When Willa announced the winner of the box jump, every one of us groaned.

“You are fuck-joking,” Pug moaned.

“Promised cannoli won’t get you to play hockey during the game, but it will make you jump on and off boxes with the speed of a ptamori.” Ozar threw his hands in the air and shook his head in frustration.

Ugwyll slapped Eng on the back, earning a glare and a growl from the other orc. “I knew you had speed and strength. Good job. Next time I will beat you at the box-contest, though.”

“I’ll bring your cannoli to tomorrow morning’s practice,” Willa told Eng before turning away. “And I’ll think of other prizes for a different contests.

That was a very welcome announcement. While we all loved cannoli, we would compete just as fiercely for a bag of Doritos from the snack machine, or even a paperclip Willa picked up off the floor. It was the way of us orcs, even me.

After some stretching and another, much slower, walk on the treadmill were finally done with our morning of torture. But before we could line up for the showers, Ozar informed us that we needed to head out to the ice for practice. So I strapped on my skates and hoped I could keep my legs steady for the next few hours. After that, I planned to spend the rest of the day in a chair or my bed, not moving unless I had to.

Ozar did not have sympathy for what we had just been through. He made us skate laps, increasing our speed each round. He made us skate backwards. He made us skate back and forth across the ice, changing direction each time he shouted “left” or “right” at us. Then he made us do an hour of passing the puck, followed by an exercise where we skated by the goal and tried to hit the puck inside without slowing down. By the time we were done it was after noon and I could barely pick up my feet to make it back to the locker room. I had seen Abby late in the practice. She’d waved at me from the bench, holding up a bag that I assumed held lunch before leaving. I wasn’t sure I could manage the stairs to her office, but I was determined to try even if I had to crawl my way there.

After I took a shower, of course. No one, let alone the love of my life, should have to smell the odor emanating from my green skin right now. Once I was clean with fresh clothing, I went back out to the ice to see if Abby was still there. She’d left. Not that I blamed her as we took far longer at practice than I’d expected, and my shower hadn’t exactly been quick either.

If Abby wasn’t at the team bench or in the stands, then she was in her office. Unfortunately going to her office required me to climb an endless series of stairs. My legs were wobbling, and I arrived to see Abby alone, a pencil stuck in her messy bun as she typed on her laptop. She looked up at me, a smile on her face.

That smile faded as I staggered over to the couch and attempt to sit down. My legs buckled and I wound up on the floor–which was okay. The floor felt good compared to standing, and the front of the couch made an adequate backrest.

“Bwat!” Abby rushed over and knelt down by my side. “Are you okay? What happened?”