Page 99 of The Orc Outcast's Miracle

Fades, was everything a competition to this male? Govek had to admit that he wasn’t the least put off.

Miranda gave his hand a squeeze as she lost her battle against laughter and Estoc stormed off, yelling over his shoulder. “Hurry it up, I’m starting now.”

Roenia pressed her fingers to her lips and whispered to Miranda. “I don’t know if I should thank you or not...”

Miranda cackled.

“Go right ahead, Estoc,” Iytier called. “I don’t mind giving you a head start if you need one. I’m sure Govek doesn’t either.”

“Fuck you!” Estoc snapped, though he stopped at the edge of the pool to wait.

Iytier kissed his woman as well, though with much less passion than Estoc had. Jehvlek also followed suit, and then they all moved into the water. Govek carved his spear as he went, using his claws to sharpen the wood, readying it without needing to take pause.

The water was cold as it lapped around Govek’s legs. They all picked spots a good distance from each other and Estoc’s children set up baskets on the bank for them to throw their fish into.

They began spearing without preamble, and Govek found that his concentration was easily broken by the laughter of the children. He watched between strikes, as the sons raced each other to the fish that didn’t make it into the baskets. Estoc, Iytier and Jehvlek were all missing on purpose to give the boys more to do. Govek followed their lead.

Govek could hear the swell and taper of Miranda’s voice as she chatted merrily with the women. Expertly bouncing both the babies on her lap as she exchanged advice and told stories.

Some of Earth. Lighthearted ones he’d heard before about some of the children she’d worked with—sassy two-year-olds and boys who liked to hide in the oddest places and the struggles of getting them to sleep for their naps.

Estoc’s second youngest, Yavil, raced around trying to keep up with the older boys. He noted the frustration as he failed to get to yet another fish before his kin. Govek’s memories swelled to his own frustrations in his youth. To the constant disquiet he’d tried so hard to stifle.

The boy stomped his feet and proclaimed how unfair this game was and Estoc spoke up. “Change the rules. Younger boys, stand at our baskets and try to catch them before they make it inside. Don’t let them slip through your fingers. Older boys, keep racing to catch the ones that don’t make it in.”

Govek felt his throat tighten.

How odd this was. To see this boy vent his frustration without being silenced or told his outburst was wrong or frightening or crude. To have his father advocate for his son instead of pushing him away.

Govek wondered what his life might have been like had he simply had a different father.

He felt Miranda’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze, took in the warmth of her smile. Allowed himself a breath to bunch his fists and slink out his claws and let the anger burn in his chest.

And then he released it and went back to his spearing.

The day weaved long. The baskets filled steadily, and the friendly banter drew him to distraction when he should have remained vigilant.

“Ha! I’ve hit fifty,” Jehvlek said triumphantly.

“I’ve got fifty-three!” Estoc said, only to have his face fall. “Fifty-three fucking fish that we’re going to have to eat. Why didn’t we go hunting for hare?”

“You wouldn’t have won at hare either, Estoc.” Iytier grinned. “I’ve got sixty-one.”

“The hall’s going to smell like fish for moons,” Savili said.

“The hall? Try the whole clan.” Miranda laughed.

Roenia added. “They’ll probably smell it all the way over in Oakwall.”

“We could ask Sythcol if he needs it for his conjurings?” Aralie offered.

“What conjuring requires so many fish?” Roenia asked.

“Don’t ask!” Iytier called over. “We’ll just leave them on his doorstep. He can figure it out from there.”

“Best we leave it tomorrow,” Estoc said. “So the stench will cover our trace.”

Govek bellowed with laughter. “Fuck, Estoc, you’re a genius.”

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