Page 41 of Mistletoe

“Hang your coat up on the wall,” she said, ignoring him and taking the plates off the warmer. “I worked up an appetite. Let’s eat.”

Hal shoveled the food into his mouth with his hands, barely pausing to chew. It was a sight, that was for sure. The tusks seemed to get in his way, forcing him to open his mouth wider when biting. The silverware lay forgotten on the table.

Emma didn’t say a word. She had no idea when his last proper meal was. Certainly, the last time he may have eaten was the scraps she gave him days ago, but he ate like it was. He consumed the meal with the hunger of a starving man—well, several. While a man that size needed a lot of fuel, he could hunt. He shouldn’t be starving. He brought them rabbits, after all. Surely, he must have kept some of his hunting spoils for himself.

No, she decided after some consideration. Hal ate like a man who had been hungry for a long time. She had so many questions but sensed that he would bolt rather than answer.

Hal paused, looking up from his plate. His lips twisted around his tusks in an expression that suggested chagrin as he reached for the silverware.

The instruments were small in his hands as he clutched them in his fists. Emma busied herself with spreading butter and honey on two slices of bread while he worked through how to hold the cutlery.

Clover came to investigate.

“You don’t like butter,” Emma told the cat, which was a lie. The cat loved butter, but Emma would not feed her table scraps. She then explained to Hal, “My mother feeds her bits of food from her plate. It’s a terrible habit, and now she tries to bully everyone for their food.”

Clover switched her efforts from Emma to Hal, jumping straight into his lap. He stiffened, unsure what to do. He was a soft touch and tore a piece of buttered bread for her. As Clover licked the butter from the bread, he cautiously stroked her fur.

“You’ll never be free of her now,” Emma said.

“Go ahead and ask your questions,” he said, eyes down as he concentrated on petting the cat.

“You have a right to your secrets. I’m not one to pry.”

He huffed, as if amused.

Clover finished her snack and leaped away.

“It’s not so far-fetched,” she said. “Have I asked you a single question so far?”

He chewed thoughtfully. “No. You bossed me around a lot.”

“There you go—I am respectful to a fault.” She pushed one slice of the buttered bread toward him, hoping the morsel would distract him. She then took an enthusiastic bite of her own slice. “I swear, I will never get tired of buttered bread and honey.”

Her little attempt at a distraction failed. He said, “I won’t tell you where I’m from. I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember a single thing? That seems peculiar.”

“I remember some things, but there are holes,” he said. “I know my name. I’m like this. I don’t know why or when or how. You’re going to say that you have a right to know who I am, to keep your family safe.”

“Yes,” she said. “It has crossed my mind. You’ve been lurking for days.”

“And have you ever felt in danger? Even once?”

“No,” she admitted. Even on the first morning when she discovered the rabbit, she hadn’t been worried or frightened. Confused, yes, but never worried about the identity of the hunter.

“There you are. I’m your friendly neighborhood orc. As simple as that. Why make it complicated?”

Nothing about the situation felt simple to her.

“Well, you’re particularly savvy for a man who was naked in my barn not but a week ago,” Emma said.

He laughed. It was a horrid sound, creaking like a door protesting at being opened. Rasping, edging into unhinged. That was unfair. The man clearly had been through something.

Whether he was truthful about his absent memories or not, it didn’t matter. Hal wanted to be taken at his word. Emma could respect that. He was simply a friendly orc. Nothing more complicated than that.

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