Page 49 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

If only I knew how to take back our kiss. I’d felt his irritation last night when he stormed from the tent, and now, with the distance between us, I was sure he regretted coming anywhere near me.

I should apologize. Promise to keep my feelingslocked away where they belonged. That might make things go back to normal.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked around the camp. Everyone else had something to do, somewhere to belong. The guests had enjoyed their carefree morning, and Ruugar... Well, Ruugar always belonged. He was solid, dependable, a leader without even trying.

I was just here. A misplaced piece that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the puzzle.

I could swear I slept in his arms last night, but that couldn’t be true. Not that it mattered. When I woke this morning, he'd already left the tent.

Needing something to do, I moved toward the trees. We'd had a fire last night and burned most of the wood. We'd need more for tonight. Collecting wood wasn’t much, but at least it was something useful.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed an old canvas bag from near the cooking gazebo and headed into the forest, the wind buffeting my oversized, long-sleeve shirt, and my boots crunching on dried leaves.

Three or four bundles of sticks and branches. That was all I needed. It would keep my hands busy, keep my mind from circling back to Ruugar's warm hand on my waist, his strong fingers tangling in my hair, his lips that had kissed me liketheymight have wanted me even ifhedidn’t.

I'd filled half my bag when a strange, high-pitched chirping sound caught my attention. It wasn’t a birdnoise, at least not like any I’d heard before. It was softer, more like tiny whistles layered over each other.

I straightened, scanning the trees, the canvas bag’s rough strap digging into my palm. The chirps came again, a flurry of soft peeping carried by the breeze. Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me toward the sound.

Pushing through thick underbrush, I carefully stepped over tangled roots, ducking beneath low-hanging branches. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the forest floor in a golden, patchwork quilt. The chirping grew louder as I neared a small clearing.

And then I saw them. A cluster of pink, chubby creatures tumbled over each other in the grass, their tiny wings flapping uselessly, their round bodies rolling in lazy somersaults.

Baby chumbles.

Awww. I sucked in a breath, my heart stuttering at the sheer cuteness of them.

Fuzzy and soft appearing, they were about the size of my head, their tiny developing scales barely visible beneath a thick layer of down. Their beady black eyes blinked slowly as they clumsily flailed in the grass, chirping at one another and falling into piles. They reminded me of puppies, uncoordinated, bumbling, and completely unaware of how ridiculously cute they were.

One of them let out an eager cheep and launched itself forward, only to trip over its own tiny claws. It flipped, rolling head over heels into a sibling pile of fluff. The other chumbles let out startled squeaks before resuming their busy, chaotic wrestling.

My laugh burst out. They were adorable.

I crouched low, taking care not to startle them, my gaze fixed on their tiny, pudgy forms. One of them flopped onto its back, its clawed feet wiggling in the air, while another cautiously nibbled on a leaf. The sight of them playing, carefree and unaware, sent a warm feeling through my chest.

For the first time all morning, I wasn’t thinking about Ruugar or the way his silence gnawed at me.

I wasn’t thinking about the kiss. About how much I missed him, even though he was only back at camp.

I wasn’t thinking about how I didn’t belong.

Right now, there was only this moment, these absurdly fluffy creatures rolling over each other in the sunlight.

A sharp, earth-rumbling screech shattered the peace.

I froze, peering around, wondering if I should huddle over the babies to protect them from what was coming. A moose?

The trees trembled, their leaves shuddering.

A jolt of alarm shot through my veins as the bushes on the far side of the clearing exploded outward, sending twigs snapping and leaves scattering through the air.

The mother chumble. Pink-scaled and bright-eyed, she was huge. At least equal to my height, and with a long, feathered tail that swished behind her like a whip. Her wings flared wide, making her seem even larger. Her beady eyes locked on me with a feral intensity. She screeched again, the sound rattling in my skull, before her sharp talons sank into the ground, her entire bodyrippling with barely contained fury. She was going to attack.

I didn’t dare move.

Too close. That terrible realization hit in an instant. I had wandered too close toherbabies.

I raised my hands, palms out in what I hoped looked like a peaceful gesture. “Easy, um, big bird. I’m not going to hurt your babies.”

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