Page 3 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

And froze, unable to suck in a breath.

What in the name of cringe is this?someone had written.

Another included a yellow, teary-eyed laughing face.Shrek but with feelings.

Bro took the wilderness too seriously. Someone get him a reality check.

The smile fell from my face, and slowly, piece by piece, everything inside me shattered.

Refreshing the page didn’t help. Each new comment was worse than the last.

Is he auditioning for some bad Orc-Western crossover? Someone yeet him, wouldya?

Imagine thinking sunsets can save this level of awkward. #TotalEmbarrassment.

Who let him post? No, seriously. Who?

The torturous feeling in my stomach expanded, spreading sharp edges to every corner inside me. My hand tightened around the phone, the case creaking under the pressure, but I couldn’t let go. I kept scrolling, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

Podar stopped purring and looked up at me with concern. My no longer feral friend could sense emotions better than almost anyone. He stood and put his front paws on my chest, stretching out to sniff my chin before he hopped to the floor and scampered down the hall.

Stunned and mortified and unsure what to do, I stared at my phone.

My poem, my land, and my brothers’ hard work had been reduced to a joke in a matter of moments. I found a few positive comments, but all I could focus on were the bad ones. Wasn't that like everything else in life?

Something small curled up inside me and turned away as each cutting remark sliced at the tender pieces of me I’d dared share with the world.

I told myself these were strangers. Mean ones, but they didn't know me. Their words shouldn’t mean a thing. But here I was in the shadow of it all, sitting in my big chair in my small kitchen while their mocking echoed in my pointed ears.

What had I been thinking? Orcs like me didn’t make poems. Not ones that mean anything to others, least of all the humans we hoped would come here, have fun, then spread the word.

More nasty comments appeared below my post, and with each one, I flinched like I’d been hit. I’d gone viral but in the wrong way.

I fumbled with my phone, my hands clumsy as I stabbed at the screen to delete the post. The laughing ee-moo-gees, the snide remarks. They wouldn’t stop coming. But if I erased it, maybe this wouldn’t get any worse.

“Gone,” I snarled, but the bunch in my chest didn’t loosen. It pulled tighter.

The phone slipped from my hand, landing face-down on the table with a hollow clack. I stared at it, my arms thudding onto the wooden table beside it. My world suddenly felt too small, too quiet, too torturous to exist in.

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t made for this social stuff. My brothers had assigned me the task because I’d spoken up, a silly orc eager to prove himself in a world that wasn’t made for his clumsy hands. His too-big body. His soft soul.

I’d ruined this.

“Fool,” I whispered. “Just a silly, too-sweet fool. That's what I am.”

A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Tark?” Dungar opened the panel and stepped inside, looking amazing as always. The right size for an orc. Not big and bulky and with too many muscles like me.

Hishead didn't smack against the frame.Hishands didn't fumble with the handle I found almost too small to grip. He carried the scent of the outdoors with him: warm hay, freshly cut wood, and a faint metallic tang from working on a fence maybe.

Settling in the chair across from me, he stretched out his legs in a relaxed way that made me envious. I loved my brothers, but sometimes I wished I could feel as comfortable in my skin as they did. “Why the frown?”

Straightening in the chair, I forced my face to relax, burying the tightness in my chest where he couldn’t see it. “Just thinking,” I reached for the sorhox-shaped salt shaker Aunt Inla gave me. She'd ordered too many for the general store and thought each of us should have a set.For your mates to admire,she'd said with a wink.

No woman would ever want to mate with me.

Dungar crossed his arms on his chest and tapped his boot on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure? If you need anything, say so. I’m happy to help.”

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