Page 62 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

A wind swept up, and my skin tingled for some unknown reason. Mama chumble paused. Something about the way she stiffened made every nerve in my body flash red alerts. Her wings stretched wider, reflecting sunlight in a way thatpractically screamed danger. I tried to ignore it. Fame called for risks. I wasn’t going to get any closer to her or her babies. I zoomed in with my phone, squinting at the screen arcing sunlight.

She squawked. Loud. Piercing.

I jolted, my heart plunging all the way to the center of the planet.

My ears rang, and my hands jerked, nearly dropping the phone. I froze, heat prickling along my neck. Scales or no scales, she was still a bird roughly the size of a dorm refrigerator with a broad wingspan. And I was standing much too close to her. My lungs tightened, and it was a challenge to breathe. Slowly, I started taking steps backward, hoping to not spook her further. The phone wobbled in my sweaty grip, but I kept filming, as if documenting my potential mauling might somehow make it worthwhile. If nothing else, that video would get tons of views.

The bird moved with a flurry of claws and spread wings, and now she stood between me and the town.

“Thanks,” I hissed. I glanced over my shoulder. Open pasture stretched behind me, dotted with sorhoxes—those bizarre, minivan sized creatures with curly horns and green fur that looked like someone had crossed a yak with a bad mood. They’d stopped grazing and were staring at me. The biggest one, a hulking brute with horns that glinted like polished ivory, let out a low, rumbling snort.

Shit, a bull?

Its head bobbed once. Twice.

“Oh, no,” I whispered.

It pawed the ground like something straight out of a cartoon. Except this wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t a bullfighter. Where was a red cape when a girl needed one?

It lowered its head and charged straight at me.

Seriously? Wasn't Darth-chumble enough threat for one day? I yelped, spinning back toward the mama bird. Her babies squeaked and burrowed further into their pink pile, oblivious to the fury erupting around them. Their mother, however, noticed. She whipped her head toward the sorhox, released another piercing whistle, and flapped her massive wings.

She was blocking the path to town, but my retreat into sorhox territory didn’t look any better.

“No, no, no.” Panic made my voice shake and adrenaline flood my system. I scrambled backward, throwing a glance over my shoulder to see the sorhox barreling toward me, his hooves pounding the soil and sending dirt flying.

I bolted toward the left, veering for the nearest fence line. The chumble, however, wasn’t having it. With a burst of speed that defied her bulky frame, she lunged into my path, wings outstretched as if she meant to shield me. Or trap me.

“Not helping,” I gasped. My ankle twisted on a clump of uneven grass, and my feet lost all coordination. Before I could stop it, my body slammed into the ground.

Pain flared as my fall drove pebbles and dirt into my skin. Agony shot up my leg, and a sharp cry erupted from my throat. My ankle throbbed, sending shockwaves through my body every time I tried to move it. I clawed at the ground, trying to push myself up, but the world tipped sideways as Mama Chumble stomped over to screech above me. Her shadow loomed, wings flapping so wildly they stirred up a windstorm of dry grass and dust.

“No. Stay back!” My voice cracked as I held up one hand to shield myself, the other clutching my phone in a death grip.

The chumble's head lowered, her beak snapping. This was it. I was about to become a news headline. Tourist Trampled by Orc Kingdom Bird and Sorhox at the Same Time in Freak RanchIncident. Mom would tell me she’d told me so, and Tark… Tark wouldn’t even know because he was off riding the trails.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

But the hits never came.

Instead, a high-pitched whistle screeched directly over my head. I cracked my eyes open to see Mama Chumble standing over me, her feathered chest puffed out and her wings spread wide enough to block the sun. She was looking past me. Toward the bull.

Oh, crap. The bull.

Twisting my neck to look back, I found it still rushing toward me, its horns glinting like daggers. Its eyes were locked on me, or maybe on Mama Chumble. Either way, it didn't look like anything was going to hold it back if it wanted to stomp all over me.

Mama let loose a sound so loud and sharp it felt like someone had pressed a needle straight into my eardrum.

The sorhox faltered. Its hooves stumbled, kicking up a shower of dirt. It skidded to a halt a feet away, coating me with dirt, clumps of grass, and maybe sorhox spit. My heart slammed against my ribcage, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The creature stared at the chumble, its nostrils flaring and smoke coiling out. It let out a grunt.

Mama Chumble didn’t move. Head low and wings quivering, she held her ground, emitting a series of short, rhythmic whistles. A challenge or a warning? Maybe she saw me as her baby's next meal, and she wasn't going to let the sorhox steal me away. Whatever it was, the sorhox seemed to understand. It pawed the ground a few times, snorting in irritation, before turning and trotting off to rejoin the herd.

I sagged onto the grass, relief crashing into me so hard I thought I'd pass out.

Then the chumble mom’s beady gaze snapped my way. She tipped her head back and a shrill chitter roared up her throat.

Definitely the first course in baby chumble dinner.

---