Page 3 of Steve's Barmaid
With both the tents set up, we fed and watered our hestrs before letting them rest for the evening. I volunteered to take first watch, Reykr joining me. He couldn’t stop protecting me if his life depended on it. I reminded him—regularly—that I was of age, well past it. I tried not to let it get under my skin, but the whole tribe treated me like an irresponsible younger brother. I had gotten in my fair share of trouble when I was an orkling. One time, I got so tired of being cold that I tried to rebuild the fire while my parents slept. I nearly burned our house down. Then there was the time I tried to go surfing on our lake, as mom had explained to me, and nearly drowned. But all of my childhood mishaps were in the past. I wanted to prove I was a full-fledged tribe member and could contribute. And be trusted with firewood.
Reykr and I stood, alert, at the edge of the clearing. We didn’t expect any trouble from other orkin, but the forest could be alive with predators. It was still early for them to come out of their winter hiding holes but a night watch was still the safest bet. We stood, watching, in companionable silence for quite a while until Reykr cleared his throat.
“As much as I enjoyed getting out of the confinement of Snaerfírar, where do you see this going? Is this just an excuse to get out of helping the tribe to prepare for the spring?” Reykr rumbled in his deep voice.
“I meant what I said when I explained to the elders that I wanted to connect with other tribes. We’re so isolated up in the damn snow. I think we could all benefit from more exchange with the other tribes—and not just goods. I mean an exchange of ideas and ways of thinking,” I explained.
“And this has nothing to do with being the only half-orc?”
I hesitated. I had kept my feelings of discontent to myself, not wanting my tribe to think I was ungrateful for my position and the love they’d shown me. But if I could trust anyone, it was Reykr.
“Maybe it is,” I whispered into the night air. “Maybe I want to meet more orkin like me. Not just half-orkin, but orkin that are more willing to exchange technology, new ways of thinking—more progressive ideas about society. Maybe I want to see if I will feel less out of place.”
“And now that you’ve seen Vátrfírar, do you think you’d be better suited with them?” There was no accusation in Reykr’s voice, just quiet curiosity.
“Um, no. As Mom would say, they were jerks. They are just as isolated as we are—if not more. It was nice to see the ocean, though. Mom always talked about the comfort the sound of crashing waves brought her. At least I got to see that for myself. She’d like to know that I finally got out and explored.” I ended on a wistful note.
I absently rubbed at the pendant around my neck. My mom had always told me it was sea glass, created by years of ocean waves. It was one of the few possessions she had with her when she was taken from her home world, a small fragment of her thatI wore everywhere I went. I pulled myself out of my thoughts to realize Reykr was staring at me, eyes filled with sympathy.
“You missing your parents?” he asked.
“Mom has just been weighing on me.” Since Dad passed, I have considered what Mom would want for me. “The idea that she had all these beautiful dreams about what the sea would be like here, and she never got to see it.”
“Maybe,” Reykr said, “You are putting all your hopes on Fýrifírar now, and I don’t want to see you disappointed again.”
“I know, I know.” I sighed. “I just have to believe that they will be different. Agnarr and Piper were set to be the new leaders of Fýrifírar and said there were other human women. If they were willing to take in literal aliens they have to be more accepting of orkin from other tribes... Right?” I trailed off.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they will view us as competition and attack us in our sleep.”
“Well, aren’t you a delight?” I grumbled.
“I’m just saying, don’t be shocked if it doesn’t go according to your plan.”
“Fine, fine.” I waved at him. “I am approaching Fýrifírar with an open mind. It could go either way.”
I’d let Reykr think I wasn’t putting all my hopes on the forest orkin, even if I still was. We settled down for the night, and I fell asleep once again, dreaming of a tribe where a traveler would be welcomed. Perhaps I’d already found it.
CHAPTER THREE
BILLIE
As a night owl through and through, waking up with the sun was not my specialty. In fact, I loathed it, about as much as I loathed the light coming in through the split of my curtains. However, working in the kitchens meant I had to be up early to prepare breakfast for the tribe. I reluctantly shuffled out of bed and to the restroom. While Fýrifírar showered communally, we all had our own sink and toilet, for which I was eternally grateful. My hair was a chaotic mess. I was one of the only human girls that showed up with curly hair. And we weren’t talking cute beach waves, either. My hair was a riot of unmanageable ringlets, used to being treated with extra attention to get it to cooperate. Now I was on an orkin planet that had never heard of conditioner. I was still working on different options with some of the other women with curly hair, but we hadn’t found anything quite right.
I dressed quickly and headed to the kitchens. I showed up just as the other cooks arrived and started on breakfaststraightaway. I had become the person in charge of the gautr, a porridge that was a staple of their diet and a cross between grits and oatmeal. I wasn’t a fan, but it was easy enough to make because each orc, or human, decided what kind of toppings they wanted to add. It was the sheer volume of it that we had to make that made it difficult. Even as one of the stronger girls, I couldn’t lift a pot full of it. And we made four pots every morning. It hardly made my mornings cheerier.
But would working late nights in a bar be all that much better? I wasn’t fulfilled working in the kitchens, I knew that. Feeding people and interacting with them while bartending was something I missed. I could come up with something better. But did I really even want a bar? I knew I wasn’t fulfilled working here in the kitchens. I liked feeding people, sure. But I missed the interaction bartending provided me. I missed pouring the perfect drink or surprising someone with a new cocktail I’d come up with. I missed the stories and the secrets that were shared with me. People would tell bartenders anything and I was a rapt audience. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life in the kitchen dicing potatoes—I wanted toliveand be out amongst the rest of the tribe.I was bored as hell.
“Hey there!” said Joey from right over my shoulder. I jumped, dropping the knife and potato to the ground. “Uh sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Sorry, sorry, my fault. I was lost in thought.” I bent to pick up the knife and potato and took them to the sink to rinse off.
Joey followed me. “These thoughts wouldn’t have anything to do withBillie’s Bar, would they?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I rolled my eyes as I rinsed off the potato and knife. The whole idea of reopening the bar had been an idea for less than a week and now everyone was referring to it asBillie’s Bar. At this point, even if I did come up with an awesome name for my bar,everyone would call it Billie’s Bar. I hadn’t even talked to Runa about it yet. Without her blessing, I didn’t want to open any place that served drink— and hopefully some food.
“Maybe I was thinking aboutBillie’s Bar.” I said, emphasizing the name with another eye roll. “What of it?”
“So you might actually do it?” Joey squealed.
