~

Chapter Thirty-two

~

That pilot was really nice, once he stopped laughin’—no clue what was so funny—nice of him to take me and Bliar on up to the Hamlet, instead of back to East Plain. After we got over the first few miles of the northern foothills, the gods had arranged a new drop of snow, and the view of the Range was enough to provoke deep sighs.

Born, raised here, but the sight never gets old.

We had to hover a bit while the ground crew finished scrapin’ the heliport clean of snow by backhoe. It was nice those five Northern helicopters had already been taken away. Who wants to land somewhere that looks like a war zone. Or a crash site. After havin’ that thought, Bliar said the same thin’. I’m pretty certain these headsets can be muted. I don’t know why I hadn’t yet figgered out how to do that.

Fifteen minutes later my cheeks were beginnin’ to cramp. Maybe from the smile that didn’t seem to want to go away. Evidently I was happy my two favorite folks on Earth met us to take us home. Ezra drove the inn’s OM three-row four-by with chains on its tires, with Zia sittin’ next to her. Both the hens had given me a proper hug, tusks diggin’ into my jaw. Maybe they like me. I rubbed at the spot. Be bruised for a few days. That is so special.

From the front, a hen would say somethin’ which maybe I was supposed to respond to, but Uncle Bliar would cover for me. He’d give me a glance, either wonderin’ what kind of fool I could possibly be, or lettin’ me know I’d owe him a favor.

I didn’t care one way or the other. I’m home. And chances are, considerin’ the greetin’, I’d get an opportunity to chat privately some with Zia.

Am I fallin’ in love?

That whole troll-ogre thin’ bothered me. Is that somethin’ that could be overcome? If—I shouldn’t be lookin’ too far in the future. I’m not a strategic thinker. Some folk would claim I have no ability to think.

“Ya happy to be home?” Zia asked.

I waited.

Hmm.

Appeared Bliar was gonna make me talk. My mind spun a little uncomfortably. I wanted to say I looked forward to snugglin’ with her, and I had no idea where that thought came from. Pa would use the snuggle word when we were younglings, more to embarrass us than to flirt with Ma, I think.

“He’ll get back to ya in a bit,” Ezra said, and the three of ’em laughed.

That’s okay. I’m used to bein’ the butt of the conversation. Considerin’ the cheeks still threatened to cramp, the smile must still be in place.

Bliar said, “With the snow, guess ya folk have more time on yar hands.”

“Lordy no,” Zia gushed. “Now the local folk are gonna be locked in the Hamlet, ya know they all gather for checkers and hot cider every day. The inn’s kitchen never closes. Just transitions from tourist-types to locals. Up to the day they can’t shovel enough snow to get out their doors.”

Pa used to mention he enjoyed the home-cooked rum he could get in that hot cider.

“Thin’s never change in the Hamlet,” Bliar said.

Ezra began reminiscin’ when we cousins were knee high to an elf and gathered on the woolen carpets in front of the three fireplaces in the inn’s lobby. She was still doin’ that when she pulled into the circular path in front of the inn’s entrance.

“Ya go on,” I told Ezra. “I’ll get the truck into the barn.”

As I hoped, Zia said she’d keep me company. Ezra gave me a dandy smile as I hurried forward to get behind the wheel. Bliar was out in a flash and didn’t wait on anyone. Guess he had biscuits and gravy on his mind still. He loves to talk about the inn’s biscuits and gravy.

There’s also that rum and cider.

Rambunctious noise carried across the snow, and we both hesitated to take in the doin’s. A passel of younglings had swept the snow off a patch of the frozen Lake and were in the middle of a hard-fought hockey game.

A quarter mile east three ogres and a human were ice fishin’, sittin’ on upside-down paint buckets. The sight represented the serenity of the Range.

“Beautiful day, huh?” Zia asked as I got in the seat and closed the door.

Would a Northerner call a day covered in three feet of snow beautiful? “Beautiful ’cause ya’re sittin’ here.” My face instantly flamed. Did I really say that?

“Ah, aren’t ya a cutie pie. And I thought ya hated that I rode over with Ezra, considerin’ how quiet ya were.”

I pressed the window button to let in some cool air, otherwise I might flash into flames. Zia laughed, that vibration that comes from the center of a troll’s chest. “Not laughin’ at ya.”

If not at me, who?

“I’m feelin’ a little nervous and all,” she said.

Why would she feel nervous? I’m the one shakin’ inside.

“I’ve really enjoyed the conversations we’ve had on the phone,” she said. “I really look forward to ’em. And I’m awfully glad to have ya back here.”

I gave her a look. I hope my expression said what I was thinkin’ ’cause I didn’t rightly know if my mind was even clickin’ synapses together. I pressed out a hard breath, and realized the front glass which was already fogged up good, even with the window down, completely iced over, I think.

She reached over and turned the fan for the defroster all the way up, and gave me a smile.

We sat, not movin’ for a good minute.

“Look,” Zia said softly.

I waited, starin’ at the tiny line of clear glass appearin’ just above the top of the dash. Maybe she was watchin’ the same excitin’ event.

“For this to go forward,” she said slowly, “we gotta acknowledge the elephant.”

The elephant? Huh?

“The troll, ogre thin’,” she clarified.

Maybe my eyes welled, not sure if that’s a good topic or not.

“Our clans might not like it,” she said. “But I don’t care. I think it should be between ya and me.”

I kept tryin’ to define the it in my brain. My mouth opened. Maybe it thought I had somethin’ to say, but if I did, I wasn’t sure what it was.

“Ya don’t have to be uncomfortable around me if ya struggle sayin’ what’s on yar mind,” Zia said. “I know ya talk easier on the phone.”

My breath exploded out and the lungs wrenched in a new couple of gasps. Took me a moment to realize I sobbed on the inside. The cab of the truck washed in a curtain blurrin’ everythin’ as I turned to face her.

She reached over and pulled me toward the center console, arms wrappin’ around me, pullin’ my face into her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she purred. “Don’t worry about it. I think I get ya like maybe no one has ever gotten ya in yar life.”

We sat there maybe ten minutes like that. The best ten minutes of my life.

~

Nuel

~

I longed for that gorgeous twelve-seat jet of the Council’s. But this cramped, thirty-seat, commercial puddle hopper would get me to Black Lake in no time. Though my skin shimmied a little for bein’ in transit and not really knowin’ why.

Am I eager to see Ike? He seemed a little confused as to why I headed there. But with him comin’ soon, seemed I needed to be with him, where all the decisions were gonna be made. And I couldn’t just sit on the Plain while the world reset. At least our continent.

Maybe I had no business puttin’ my nose in thin’s.

Maybe I was a little jealous that silly bull cousin of Ike’s kept accomplishin’ thin’s folk didn’t expect of him. Maybe it was to avoid Darshee and Wizper. Mostly Darshee. Though both were done with me, they said.

I really would need to make amends. If they’d let me. I needed to set thin’s straight with Kriz too. If I was stayin’ at OW, particularly, and secondly, if I wanted a relationship with Ike. The two bulls are a combined purchase. A two-pack. I never had been at Ike’s after one of his weekend basketball games without findin’ Kriz sittin’ by the pool starin’ at his laptop.

Hmm.

Who’s takin’ care of Ike’s little pibble, Sissy? Probably with his troll friend down the block. What’s his name?

There was no one to pick me up at the terminal. I guess pretty dumb to think Ike had time to suggest to someone in his clan of thousands that if they had ten minutes, they could meet the plane. And no one on the flight offered me a ride into the Hamlet. Not that I was playin’ social butterfly with the other passengers. They were all business attired, seemed, maybe not clan. But with the snow and season, what kind of business was takin’ place at the Hamlet?

The enormous OM three-row four-by seemed to echo with me and just the driver from the inn. Hard to hold back my grin takin’ in the extra cushions the orc hen had to place just right, and the extended doodads she strapped to her feet to reach the peddles.

As ya’d expect, she kept a pretty continuous monologue goin’ about the doin’s at the Hamlet and the Range in general. She sounded properly proud to be a family member of the place. I couldn’t relate. I never felt any kinship with any place up North I’ve spent an extended period of time, whether it was my own neighborhood, school, or job.

Am I oozin’ with jealousy about everythin’? Feelin’ despicably morose?

I’m not so good at introspection. My life has been rather one-dimensional. Everythin’ was academics. Stayin’ under the human radar. Avoidin’ attention.

And then Darshee and Wizper manipulated a position for me where it was acceptable to be an ogre. In a position where I was responsible for every aspect of the company’s software security. The immediacy of the burden felt like an avalanche. And every minute of every day I battled Ike’s cousin. His architecture versus my security measures. We often seemed in a bloody war.