Page 93 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“I just came to let you know that we’ve gathered some of the males and sons and are going to start digging.”
Brovdir’s stomach dropped.
“Don’t worry.” The male held his hands up with a smile. “I’ve got all the right tools in all the right places. If you know what I mean. Women can be a good motivator to our males, and I’ve got a few on my side already. Hilva in particular has been ripe with worry over the boar, so she’s convinced her mate to help. Not sure his hearing will recover, but he won’t need that for digging, anyway.”
“No,” Brovdir said quickly.
“Don’t look so aghast. I was just jesting. I don’t think Hilva did any real damage that a quick healing tincture can’t undo.”
“No! Nodigging.”
“No digging? But how will we make the trap?”
“No need for a trap.” Brovdir groaned. “There are no boars!”
“Well, not yet, but there will be. I can feel it.”
Brovdir blinked in bewilderment. “You can feelwhat?”
“The need to dig! I feel it right deep in my bones. Right where the Fades themselves speak. I’ve got the truth deep inside me just wriggling to get out and the only way out is through digging! Don’t worry, all three of us elders have it under control and are communing as often as we need to make sure the Fades will is done.”
Brovdir’s mind reeled from all this random information. “Fadeswill?”
“I’m sure that you’re worried because of the sinkholes. I understand. But we’re taking every precaution.”
“No. That isn’t . . . I don’t mean?—”
The elder turned away. “You come by later to have a gander. We’re on the westernmost point near the butchery. I’m certain once you see it, you’ll just be delighted.”
Before Brovdir could argue any more, the male walked away and disappeared down another wooded path.
He took a few deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Imagined how Trinia would laugh when he told her about this.
His irritation faded to a brief chuckle as he envisioned her lovely, smiling face.
He continued on to the hall, making quick work of the walk, blessedly thankful that he didn’t get stopped again.
Inside, many orcs and a few human mates had settled in to eat, though not as many as usual. The smell of the breakfast stew was more pungent than usual, and the combination of dandelion greens, lavender, and fish being boiled in the three main cauldrons made his stomach twist.
Most of the orcs he passed were eating fruit.
And listening in as Sythcol censured Gegvi.
“I just don’t understand how you could mess up the entire mealthisoften.” Sythcol raked a dirt covered hand through his white hair and left streaks of grime. His eyes had deep, dark green bags beneath them. His skin had lost its luster.
“I was just telling you it’s not finished yet.”
“I don’t want to hear it. Breakfast is to be served at dawn. It’s well past dawn.” Sythcol’s voice was rising. “What is even in here? Dandelions andlavender? What possessed you to make such a grotesque combination?”
Brovdir was about to intervene when Ogvick approached him from the left. He stopped, glad to see a friendly face, though his relief dimmed when he noted that the usually jovial young warrior’s expression was a mask of concern.
“Chief,” Ogvick’s voice was a low whisper. “Have you spoken with Caivid yet?”
“No. He’s looking for me?” Since taking up with one of Oakwall’s shepherdesses, Caivid spent very little time in theclan. Brovdir was glad that one of his oldest friends was happy, but would be lying if he said he didn’t miss him.
“He was supposed to... maybe he got caught up with Susara and...” Ogvick glanced nervously toward Sythcol.
