A Scrithams Gift for Ork

My apologies for being late once again with your annual Winter Tale!
It’s a mite long and a mite rough, but I think you’ll enjoy it!

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Allow me to yarn you with the tale of a Scrithams Day that ole Ork remembered most fondly for all his life after. Unlike other Scrithams tales I’ve regaled you with, this one starts in the spring, and you’ll ken why in a bit.

*

‘Twas the spring what saw Arrowhead Lake thaw early and record-breaking lambings by the shepherds ‘round Rancor. And ‘twas the first year knights of the Horse Clan patrolled The Domain.

Ork was more or less just starting his taking season. Not that Ork didn’t take during winter. A good taker is e’er on the lookout for chances to take, an’ Ork was a good’n. There’s no denying that. But for one reason or another, his opportunistic winter takings had been slim.

‘Tis unclear if  ‘twas frosty weather what kept him home most winter nights or the warming spring that finally stirred his conniving thoughts to the top of his kettle, or perhaps he was just tired and feelin’ his age.

Sure the cold did make harder the use of tools of his trade and the touch of cold iron locks, but Ork was, by his own frequent admission, “not old!” While his back and fingers did complain more in the frost, and his eyes were harder tasked to see the tiny parts of the locks he built, he was still keen as a barber’s blade and still keen for taking. The thrill of it had not dulled. He found it very gratifying.

In fact, when you are solely responsible for the happiness of an entire town, both in taking from them and in returning took goods, it’s hard not to feel rewarded by one’s work. Even if said work would be looked down on by the same folks who benefited most from such valuable services, should they ken the truth. The personal gain from taking kept the lamps lit and food on the table and shoes on the children’s feet, sure enough, but it was the excitement of Scrithams Eve and joy of Scrithams Day what sustained Ork the rest of the year.

Now, with two clear goals in sight, he set to work. First, he would make this year’s Scrithams Day better than the ones what come before, and second, he would avoid all manner of trouble, impediments, nuisances, and, most of all, the solving of other people’s problems. With his Took Book eager for new entries, and a firm schedule in hand, he left the house on the first new moon of spring, believing that everything this year was going to be full shelves.

The first stop on his list was the home of Ninefinger. As usual, he entered through the butcher’s kitchen window, stealthy and nimble as Wee-Chuck sneaking past Grimalkin for a bite of cheese. He daren’t take even one of Ninefinger’s prized carvin’ knives, lest his craft suffer, and settled instead on some minor bobbles and a last-minute hunk of smoked ham. As he backed out the window, preparing to lower himself to the ground, he heard a low growl.

Ork froze, and slowly craned his neck to see behind him. Just below his feet, a large, shaggy, motley-colored dog waited. Ork carefully climbed back through the window and turned to sit on the wide sill, looking at the beast through his feet.

Ninefinger doesn’t own a dog, thought Ork. He’s owned chickens and pigs, and the occasional bison, but never a dog. In fact, Ork remembered, that a dislike of dogs was something he had in common with the affable butcher. Ninefinger had made it quite plain that dogs were a nuisance, stealing meat off his counter and always harassing the other animals he kept, and so utterly upsetting his hens that they stopped laying for a week! Ork had nodded, thinking about the hindrance dogs posed to his own craft as a taker. War is the only good use for a dog, he thought. That and shepherding. His time in The Wolf’s Legion had taught him that much. They had proved useful in The Hobnail War, and he had seen some used to herd sheep. Still, he had no use for the mangy curs!

Ork took the pork from his mouth and whispered, “Shoo! Go on! Get out o’ here.”

The dog growled and sat down. Here there were perfectly good chickens and pigs to chase, not ten feet away, and this mutt was set on pestering Ork. If he could just get the dog away from the window for a few seconds, he could get through the fence and disappear down the alley.

“Look at those pigs,” he whispered. “Fat, succulent, pork.  And those chickens … M-m-m. Yummy chicken. Go on. Take one. I won’t tell.”

The dog’s eyes darted to the livestock. It whined, then growled at Ork.

“Stupid mutt!”

The dog barked once.

“Sh-h-h-h. Sorry. Sorry. Nice dog. Good dog,” Ork cooed.

He scratched his head and took a bite from the hunk of smoked pork in his hand. The dog scooted forward. Ork held out the meat.

“You want some, fella? Ninefinger makes a moreish smoked ham … ”

Whine.

Ork dropped the ham and the dog caught it. It chewed a few times then swallowed, before staring up at Ork through it’s mopsy bangs. It growled softly.

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

It growled louder.

“Fine. Fine. Wait right there,” said Ork, climbing in off the sill.

He quickly went to Ninefinger’s cold room, sliced off more hunks of ham, and returned to the window. As soon as he appeared, the dog growled.

“Eh-eh,” corrected Ork. “You want more, you gotta be nice.”

Whine.

“Good fella.”

Ork took a few pieces of the ham and tossed them away from the window toward the chicken pen. The dog got up and trotted to collect them.

Ork quickly climbed from the window, slipped through the loose boards in Ninefinger’s back fence and dashed up the alley. He turned the corner and walked into Market Square like he was taking a lazy nighttime stroll.

He had lost some time on the dog, but decided to catch one more take for the night. He had already planned on hitting Gint’s place this week, and since he knew the silversmith was away on business, it seemed the right time for a visit. Having made all of Gint’s locks over the years, it was only a matter of deciding where to enter. As the Market Square entrance was too public, he chose the back door of Gint’s shop. He was inside in seconds. He walked through the displays, rummaged through the many supply drawers and decided he would take an ingot of nay worth for himself and a finely crafted ring to return on Scrithams Eve. He knew Gint would appreciate the return of the ring since it represented a lot of careful work.

Pocketing these items, Ork went to the back door, prepped the lock and exited. As the door latched closed, he turned and came face to face with the same hairy beast as had harassed him in Ninefinger’s window. Again Ork froze.

The dog sat and growled at Ork. Even sitting, it’s head was about waist high.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, under his breath.

He reached into his pocket … Ingot … ring … Ah, ham!  Ork pulled out the ham and held it up. The dog sniffed the air and licked its chops. Ork threw a piece down the alley, then threw another even further.

The dog promptly got up and trotted to the first piece while Ork slunk in the other direction. Ork scurried from Market Square as fast as his feet could carry him, down to the main road and on to Shady’s for a late-night drink, and to calm his nerves. It was nearly closing when he arrived.

Ork threw open the door and was forced to duck to avoid a stein that shattered against the door post. He closed the door and edged around the fight to the bar.

“What’ll you have?” asked Shady, wiping the bar top.

“You’re not upset about the broken tankard, then?” said Ork, thumbing over his shoulder. “You usually stop a fight when they start breaking your wares or chairs.”

“Nah. That were Breckin’s stein. He’s broke so many, that I make him use his own now.”

Ork scratched his chin and watched the fight. “Is that so?”

“Sure. Breckin and Shiefer are both on me list. I sell ‘em a stein and it goes up on those hooks between visits. Until they have to buy a new one. I get ‘em on the cheap.”

“Is that new?”

“Been doin’ for a bit, now.”

“Who’s the new bloke fightin’ with Breckin?”

“Not new. Keeps to hisself in the corner. ‘Tis his first time in a fight, though.”

Ork watched as the new man bashed Breckin in the jaw with an uppercut and swept his feet to send him sprawling onto a chair, which splintered beneath him. He then pounced on Breckin and punched him repeatedly.

“This ain’t his first fight,” said Ork.

Shady counted to three, then shouted, “That’s enough! That’s enough!”

He came over the bar and, with help from some patrons, pulled the slugger off his target. The man was feral and continued to flail about in their grips.

“Filthy hobnail!” he shouted.

At last he slowed his thrashing and stopped. Ork helped Breckin to his feet and he immediately collapsed into the nearest chair holding his jaw.

Shady stepped between the fighters. “I’ve told you lads before, you blowing off a bit of steam now and then is fine by me, but now you brung me in it by breakin’ what’s mine.”

The man looked down, tensing his jaw. He pushed down his sleeves, but not before Ork glimpsed a wolf tattoo on his arm.

“What do I owe for the chair,” said the man.

Shady pointed up to the board above the bar. “One chair is a round for the house.”

“Kurah!” shouted his patrons, before returning to their usual noisy carousing.

“That said,” started Shady. “That said! … ‘Tis nigh closin’ time. Will you be settlin’ up now or on the morrow?”

The only sound in the tavern was the drip from a leaky tap fillin’ a tankard behind the bar. The man looked at each dour face on the men surrounding him. Slowly, he pulled a few coins from his purse and dropped them in Shady’s hand.

“Kurah!” shouted the men, raising their cups.

Immediately, the man tucked away his purse and walked out the front door.

Ork joined Shady on his way back to the bar. “Seems a mite odd, a man buyin’ a round and leavin’ without so much as a sip for hisself, don’t it? Almost rude.”

“He’s an odd one, that one,” said Shady.

“How so? I mean besides buying a round and not stayin’.”

Shady began replacing cups and tankards as the men came to the bar with their empties. He poured a tankard for Ork and slid it to him. “Like I said, he keeps to hisself in that corner. Mostly in his head, I think. Broody like.”

Ork looked to the darkened corner and mused. Away from the light of the hearth. Opposite the front door, but facing it. Weapons on the wall … and a shield … His eyes strayed up the wall to the tattered banner hanging there. A banner he’d seen many times, but almost forgot. The Wolf’s Legion.

Weren’t many in those parts what kenned of The Wolf’s Legion beyond what rumors they’d heard, and fewer still would feel comfortable sitting under its flag if they did. As far as Ork kenned, only he and Treeodin, Rancor’s kennel master, and Grimhand had served The Wolf, though none of them talked about it. The new man made four.

“What’s his name?” asked Ork.

“Dunmar.”

Ork finished his grog and walked home. He made the usual entries in his Took Book, hid his loot, and went to bed. He laid there staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s got your goat?” asked Burkta.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t say g’night to Korka and Isslerud, and you haven’t said ten words to me since you came home. So, what’s got your goat?”

“I’m not ired, just … bothered.”

“And … ?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bad haul?”

“Nah.”

“Then what?”

At this point, Ork knew Burkta wouldn’t give up. He had to come up with something or she’d never let him sleep.

“There was a fight tonight at Shady’s.”

“And … ?”

“And nothin’. For some reason it caught in my molars.”

Burkta lit the candle on her side table. “Someone get bad hurt?”

“No.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No.”

“You sick?”

“No.”

Burkta put her hand on Ork’s forehead. “You’re not fevered … ” She placed her head on his chest and listened. “You sound fine. You’re not sick.”

“Aye, I’ve just told you as much.”

“Touchy.”

“Look, I wasn’t riled before, but now you’re—”

“Did you go into Witchwood?”

Ork sighed and said, “I saw a dog.”

Burkta put her elbow on her pillow and propped up her head. “Like a sign? Did you have a vision?”

“No. ‘Twas only a dog.”

“Where?”

“While I was workin’ … at Ninefinger’s and again at Gint’s.”

“And what happened?”

“Nothin’. I just gave it some meat and it went away.”

“But … ?”

“But nothin’. It was just a dog. Now let it lie.”

“You’re gettin’ odd in your old age, Ork.”

“I am not! Odd or old!”

“I dinna ken … You’re keepin’ me up all hours o’ the night, talkin’ my ear off, when all I want to do is sleep.”

Ork rolled towards her. “Why you wee … !”

Burkta giggled and gave him a kiss.

Ork fell back on his pillow and chuckled. “Why did I have to marry a crazy woman?”

“We already established that I am not the one what’s crazy.”

Ork rolled over and propped up his head to mirror Burkta’s pose. “If I’m crazy, woman, it’s because you made me this way.”

“As I recall, you were already crazy when I met you.”

“Aye,” said Ork. “And I’m still crazy about you.” He leaned in close to her and gave her a kiss.

“Oh boy,” said Burkta uneasily. After a long look into his eyes, she turned her head and blew out the candle.

*

The next evening Ork left home early and headed to town, determined to knock off a handful of houses from his list. At the first two houses, he was in and out without a hitch. At the third house, the window was stiff and he decided to go out the kitchen door, which squeaked. After a few heartbeats while holding his breath, he lubed the hinges with his special formula oil, gave it a minute, then left silently. Just as he pulled the door to, he heard a growl behind him.

Slowly, he turned and found the same floppy-eared dog he had twice run into the night before. Ork dipped into his pocket and was reminded that he had eaten the last piece of Ninefinger’s pork on his way home from Shady’s.

The dog growled and scooted forward as he brought out his hand. Ork pretended to throw something out the gate into the alley. The dog’s head turned to follow, but then returned to stare at Ork.

“Not buyin’ it, huh?”

Growl.

Ork reached back and turned the knob of the door behind him and pushed it open a few inches. He stepped back and leaned in through the door. The dog whined and scooted closer.

When Ork withdrew his hand holding carrots, the dog tilted its head.

“Ah! You like carrots, huh?”

Ork tossed one carrot through the gate and quickly followed the dog into the alley. He closed the gate and walked away listening to the dog crunching the carrot.

Two houses later, was a close repeat of the third. The dog waited for him upon his exit. Ork sighed took out a carrot and tossed it behind the dog and left the alley. When he reached the end at Market Square, he dropped the last carrot on the ground and strode home with haste.

Over the next few weeks, Ork moved his operation to a different area of town. In each case he ran into the dog after a few days, and again was forced to use meat to get away. Each time the dog growled, occasionally barked, and went away with its prize. Or rather Ork went away, leaving its prize. After a month, he began to take meat treats and carrots from home, just in case. It became a kind of game; how long could he outwit his hairy stalker before he had to give up a treat.

One night, when Ork returned home, he went to his shop to enter the take in his Took Book and put away his haul. He left his shop through the barn, fed their horse on the way, and strolled back to the house. As he turned the corner, he found the dog on the porch, sitting in the light spilling from the window beside the door. Ork took off his hat and wrung it, then marched through the door and closed it in the dog’s face.

“What happened to you?” asked Burkta from the hearth.

Ork hung up his hat and tools. “I dinna ken what you mean.”

“You don’t think I’ve heard you close that door often enough to ken when you’re ire is up?”

“Even when I’m trying to be quiet?”

“Especially when you’re trying to be quiet.”

“The kids asleep?”

“Aye.”

Ork turned with his back against the door and sighed. “That cursed cur followed me home tonight.”

“I thought you were bribing it to stay in town.”

“I must have gotten the wrong end o’ the stick in our arrangement.”

“And you just let it follow you?”

“No.”

Ork went to the window and peeked out. The dog was still sitting on the porch, staring at the door. He closed the curtain and turned back to Burkta.

“It shouldn’t be here,” he insisted. “I left it far and gone up Potter’s Alley. And all the way home kept a watchful eye and my ears pricked. It’s not possible that it followed me here direct.”

“Then how?”

Ork put his hands in his pockets and leaned back thoughtfully. His fingers bumped into something unexpected and he felt it. After a moment, he pulled out a handful of treats. “I think I ken how.”

“What if its owner follows it here, and puts together what you’ve been doin’?”

“Not possible.”

“Just like it’s not possible that it followed you home?”

“It’s not the same. ‘Sides, I don’t think it has an owner.”

“You’d better make sure.”

Ork nodded.

“Tomorrow, go into town and ask around ‘bout its owner.”

“That’s a good plan.”

“So, did you visit Wida Glumpot tonight?”

“Aye.”

“And how is the old dear?”

“She seemed a bright mornin’.”

“That’s good. An’ what did the Scrithams take from her this year?”

“I can’t help it. I took that wee pepper shaker again. It’s like an inside joke between her an me.”

“It was given her by her son, ya ken?”

“Aye. So I ken she won’t regift it, and I help keep her son’s good memory alive.”

“Aye.”

“You don’t think she’s grown bored with it, do you? ‘cause I could take somethin’ else.”

“Are you kiddin’? She loves to tell me how the Scrithams took it again and tell me how her son give it her. It’s almost a tradition now, but each tellin’ is like the first for her.”

“Good.”

*

The next mornin’ Ork trudged into town and asked folks around Market Square about the dog. Some had seen it, but none knew where it belonged. He widened his search and eventually came to Hamfist’s door.

“I dinna ken, Ork. But if I were lookin’ for a dog, I’d ask Treeodin. He kens all the dogs ‘round here.”

“Thanks, Hamfist.” Ork turned and walked away.

“Hey, Ork. You still want me to do decorations this year?”

Ork turned at the street. “Are you gettin’ tired of doin’ them?”

“No, mate. Just thinkin’ ahead.”

Ork smiled. “Scrithams Day is many moons away.”

“Yeah? So what do you think?”

Ork shook his head in amusement. “Why not? You done such a good job last year.”

“Thanks, Ork! I’ll get right on it.”

“But its … ”

Hamfist’s door closed and he was gone.

“ … moons away.”

Ork chuckled. How he had been put in charge of organizing Scrithams Day was still beyond him. It were all Chief Blacktooth’s doin’, but still it was just one more thing that kept him busy during the year, and one that provided more than a dash of happiness. Of course, he had figured out through necessity, and no wee part his own laziness, that the secret to success was to deputize folks what had a great love of Scrithams Day and the applicable talent and they would do all the hard work. After all, he had his own Scrithams Day duties to attend to.

He made his way to the kennel near the jail and found Rancor’s Kennel Master. Treeodin was a big man with one droopy-broke ear and a map of white, splotchy scars on his face. He wore stiff leather armor and a spiked collar like the ones on the war dogs he trained. He held out his hand, then tilted it forward and all the dogs in the training yard sat.

He greeted Ork by gripping his forearm. “What can I do for you, Ork?”

“I was hoping you could help me, Kennel Master.”

“I thought you was done with warring.”

“I am.”

“Then what need you of me? I ken’d you don’t like dogs.”

“True,” said Ork. “And all the more reason for your help.”

“I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

“There’s a stray dog here ‘n’ about in Rancor what keeps bothering me, growlin’ and gettin’ in my way. And last night, it followed me home.”

Treeodin raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“’Tis so,” said Ork with a frown. “I was hoping you could tell me who its master is, so I can make sure it finds its way home for good.”

“What’s this dog look like?”

“It’s big and shaggy, with floppy ears and it’s mostly white, but has big splashes of black and brown.”

“Is it kinda gray and speckled in the hind quarter?”

“Aye!” said Ork. “Ya ken it?”

“Aye. I’m afraid so.”

“Why afraid? Is it dangerous?”

“Nah. I should think not.”

“Then what?”

“She’s one of six pups from Momma Bear, my best dog. That dog is my biggest disappointment and failure. No matter how much attention I gave her, she just wouldn’t train.”

“It’s a she?”

“Aye. And a more ornery she pup you’ll not find. After I thought she was settling in with her brothers, I took them out on a patrol. She disappeared after a squirrel and I found her back here. So, I thought I’d take her hunting. She’d rather chase butterflies. Tried her at guard duty, she wandered off or let strangers pass. The only good thing I’ve found is that she don’t chase chickens.”

“Or pigs.”

Treeodin looked at Ork. “So, you have seen her.”

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to give her to a farmer, but she doesn’t seem to do anything useful. All her brothers serve The Wolf now, but I couldn’t send her. I thought to send her to a cousin o’ mine but she ran away. I hear rumors of her about town, but when I go look, she’s gone.”

“So, can I bring her back to you?”

Treeodin frowned, then stared at Ork. “I think she has found her new master.”

“What, me?” exclaimed Ork. “But I don’t even like dogs.”

Treeodin put on his gloves, turned and went back to his dogs.

“Why can’t I bring her back here?” said Ork.

“No room.”

Treeodin made a fist and whistled once like the chirr of a nighthawk, and a black dog came to him. “Find it!” he said to the dog. “Find it.” The dog turned and went to the open field and started to sniff around while the other dogs watched.

Ork counted the number of kennels and dogs. There were far more kennels than dogs.

“Looks like you’ve got plenty of room,” said Ork.

“Looks can be deceivin’,” replied Treeodin. “But then ya ken that better ‘n most, Night Stalker.”

For a second, Ork was back at the battlefront at Kitchenton. The banner of The Wolf’s Legion snapped on the night breeze over his head. He could hear the screeches of a Hobnail Goblin horde coming over the hill.

“Hey!” shouted Treeodin. “You mind not carvin’ up my fence?”

Ork looked down. His knife was in his hand above several chops in the wood railing. Confused and embarrassed, he sheathed his knife and started to walk away.

“Good boy,” said Treeodin, as the black dog returned with a dirt covered rag. He then made a quick whip-poor-will sound like a nightjar.

Ork looked back as the black dog sat down next to the others.

“Well, what am I supposed to do with the dog?” yelled Ork.

Treeodin looked over his shoulder. “You mean, what is she supposed to do with you?”

Ork frowned. “That’s not helpful, Kennel Master.”

“I never agreed to be helpful.”

“At least tell me her name.”

“I called her Squirrel,” said Treeodin. “But her given name is Arakaza. Good luck getting her to answer to either.”

*

Ork started for home in a huff. The sky, which had only threatened to be gloomy, took on his dark mood. As he steamed up the road past Shady’s, he looked up at the inky clouds. “Baldhammer’s ghost!” he shouted. “I swore off getting involved in anyone else’s problems this year and yet here I am! Is this some kind of a joke? Ya ken I don’t like dogs.”

A stroke of lightning lit the clouds followed closely by a clap of thunder. And then the rain began. Ork marched up the road to his house, pulling his cloak close against the cold rain. He passed his fields and came to the front walk. The dog was nowhere to be seen.

“Good,” said Ork.

He spotted the open door on the barn. The stupid mutt is probably in the barn, he thought. He entered, checked the stalls, fed and watered the horse, and, finding no sign of the dog, went to the house.

“Good,” he said again. It must have gone back to town.

Ork skipped up the path and scraped the mud from his boots on the last flagstone. He smelled Burkta’s beef and barley stew on the air as he stepped onto the porch. He smiled. My favorite stew, he thought. My day is saved. He opened the door and announced, “I’m home!”

Bark, bark, bark!

The dog stood in front of the hearth, next to Burkta, barking and growling at him. Ork’s children were on the floor, holding one end of a knotted rope, looking upside down at their father.

“Da! Da!” shouted the children, flipping onto all fours. They jumped to their feet and ran to the door. “Da! Can we keep her? Can we keep her?” The dog trotted up behind them wagging its tail.

Korka and Isslerud hugged Ork, who stood on the threshold, dripping and staring at the dog. He reached out to grab her by the scruff but she jumped back with a soft bark. It was hard to tell if she was playing.

Ork took a step forward. “Come here, you mangy mutt!”

The dog growled.

“Can we keep her, Da?

“Can we?”

Ork looked down at his children’s hopeful faces, then looked to Burkta who stood by the hearth stirring her pot of stew.

She glanced up at him and said, “Take off those muddy boots, and stop dripping on my clean floor.”

He looked down at his feet and wet attire. Water dripped from his hat. A wee puddle was pooling beneath him wicking thin milky rivulets of mud from his boots. He made another grab for the dog and again it growled. His frustration turned to anger.

“Why is this dog in my house?”

The children fell silent and stepped back from their father.

Burkta looked up from her cooking. She swung the pot out of the hearth, put the lid on and dropped the wooden spoon in her apron pocket.

“Korka, Isslerud,” she said sweetly. “Take the dog and play on the porch. Your Da and I need to talk.”

The children grabbed the knotted rope and, gently grabbing the dog by her furry back, led her to the door.

“Come on, girl.”

“Let’s play outside.”

Ork stepped aside to allow them to pass, then closed the door behind them.

“Well … ?” said Ork.

“Well what?”

Ork held up his finger. “I am not in a playful mood, woman.”

Burkta ladled two cups of water, placed them on the table and sat. She took a sip and said, “The dog is in the house because I allowed it.”

“You allowed it?”

“I called the children in when it looked like rain. They brought the dog in with them. I allowed it.”

“I thought you were worried about its master tracking it down here.”

“You were seeing to that. What’s the harm in letting the children play with the dog until they come for her?”

“They’re not coming. She has no owner.”

“Well … then … What’s the problem?”

“The problem is I don’t want that dog around. And I don’t want the children playing with it, inside or out.”

“I don’t see the harm.”

“It doesn’t belong here.”

“Then were does it belong, Ork?”

“Ya ken how I feel about dogs. How I feel about that dog!”

“Where should it go?”

“I dinna care. As long as it’s not here!”

Burkta pushed the second cup of water across the table. The children had grown quiet. “Please sit, husband,” she said. “Sit with me and stop yelling.”

Ork took a deep breath and sighed. He then sat across from her, feeling his heartbeat slow and his face begin to cool.

After a pause, listening to the rain on the roof, Burkta said, “I am Wolf Clan, Ork. Growing up, we always had dogs and wolves around. My uncle had a timber wolf that lived with him.”

“Well, I’m Coyote Clan and we don’t like dogs.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

Ork raised his hands and tipped his head to her.

“But since you brought that up … Your cousin and aunt both have dogs. And I saw plenty of Coyote Clan with dogs at the Thing in Tinstead two years ago.”

Ork looked at the ceiling. “Fine. I don’t like dogs.”

“And sadly … that is your loss.”

“My loss?”

“Please, let me finish. Dogs are wonderful creatures, Ork. They are a gift from Wolf, loyal Guardian of the East and the wise brother of Coyote. They lend his strength and wisdom to the family and the community.”

Burkta reached across to touch Ork’s hand, and said, “And now, the spirits have seen fit to put this dog in our path.”

“They didn’t put it in our path, they put it in mine!”

“Precisely.”

Ork grabbed his forehead and ran his hand down the length of his face, as if scraping away soapy bath water. He then made a fist, which he pressed to his mouth, and stared at her. A minute crept by. Then two.

At last, Ork said, “The dog sleeps outside.”

Burkta gave Ork’s hand a squeeze, then drew her spoon and returned to her stew pot at the hearth. Ork stood and  hung his wet hat on the peg. He opened the door and kicked off his boots on the porch. On the far end, his children played tug-o-war with Arakaza and the dog was winning. The dog dropped the rope and the children fell to their bottoms with a laugh.

“Korka. Isslerud. Go inside.”

The children turned to their father and repeated their plea, “Can we keep her, Da? Can we, please?” Their eyes were as hopeful as harvest moons.

“Arakaza will stay outside.”

“Arakaza?”

“The dog.”

“Does this mean we can keep her?” asked Isslerud.

“Yes.”

Korka stepped forward. “But it’s wet out here, Da.”

Ork examined his children. Their clothing was slightly damp in places as was the fringes of the porch.

“Arakaza will stay outside and sleep on the porch or wherever she chooses to sleep outside.”

“But Da … ”

“If she’s smart enough, she’ll sleep next to the house where it’s dry.”

“Yes, Da.”

“Yes, Da.”

“Now, go inside and wash up. It’s time for supper.”

The children turned and petted the dog. She sat, but kept an eye on Ork.

“Stay here, Arakaza,” said Korka.

“Bye, Arakaza. Good girl,” said her brother.

The dog followed as the children headed inside, but Ork stepped in front of her, barring her entrance. She whined and looked into the house.

He held up his hand and said, ‘Arakaza … ?”

The dog tilted her head. Ork tilted his hand forward, as he had seen Treeodin do, and she sat.

He backed toward the door watching her. She fidgeted a bit, bud didn’t rise.

“Good lass. Stay.”

The dog tilted her head again and Ork closed the door.

*

After supper, the children took some food out to the dog, petted her, and wished her, ‘g’night.” Ork watched from the porch, as the children left and the dog began to eat. The rain still ran steady off the roof. It was too muddy to be out taking, so Ork sat by the hearth for a while, then went to bed.

As he laid next to his wife, listenin’ to the rain, he said, “You led me right into that one.”

Burkta was silent.

“One giant trap and you walked me right into it by my nose.” said Ork.

“Are you talking about the dog?”

“Aye, the dog.”

“Is that still bothering you?”

“Mostly … Mostly my part in it.”

“You shouldn’t let it bother you. You made a good decision.”

“Did I?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, did I or did you?”

“You always make your own decisions, Ork. That’s one of the reasons you stood out among my other beaus.”

“Sounds like there is a ‘but’ in there.”

“But, you are like Coyote.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Coyote is ever a curious, clever trickster, but Wolf is the wise teacher and guide.”

“So you … guided me to a good decision.”

“Coyote stole fire for the people, but he achieved it by working with Wolf.”

“So in this story … I am Coyote and you are Wolf, the dog is fire, and the kids are the people?”

“We are also the people, my husband. The blessing belongs to us all.”

“One question. When did ya ken that tact was going to work? Before I came through the door or after?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, now I really have to ken.”

“A wise wolf studies the tricks of the coyote, but never reveals her own.”

That night, the wind howled and the rain rapped on the windows. Lightning and thunder rolled in the clouds. And Ork, sound asleep, was roused by a high-pitched, eerie wail. At first, a thin whisper against the storm, it grew in his mind until it blasted like a battle horn, and he was awake.

He got up and shuffled from the bedroom to the front door. Upon opening it, the dim light from the embers in the hearth spilled out in stripes around his shadow, revealing Arakaza curled up on the threshold, wet and shivering. She looked up with her big blue and brown eyes.

“Well … ?” he said.

The dog continued to stare, her only movement a hesitant drawing away.

Ork opened the door fully and stepped back. “Are you coming in or not?”

The dog cautiously stood and put her nose over the threshold. Her eyes were on Ork.

Ork pointed to the hearth. Then he said, in a soft voice, as not to wake anyone in the house, “You will sleep by the hearth, and nowhere else. Am I clear?”

The dog oozed through the doorway until she was half-way through, then tucked her tail and trotted in. Ork closed the door. Immediately, the dog shook, from her ears to the tip of her tail, expelling a shower of water droplets. Ork went to scold her and a drop landed on his tongue. He closed his eyes and stood still, feeling the water on his face and hands. Feeling the water soaking through his nightshirt. He spit in an effort to get the taste out of his mouth. At last, he dried his hands on his shirt, wiped his face with his sleeve, and walked to the hearth. The dog followed him.

“Here,” he said pointing to the stones before the fire.

He motioned with his open hand and she sat. He then moved his hand down and she laid on the floor.

“Good. Stay.”

Ork stoked the fire a bit then turned and went back to his bedroom. He changed his nightshirt and climbed into bed. Burkta turned and put her hand on his chest.

“You smell like a wet dog, my husband.”

“No. I smell like a fire.”

*

The next morning, when Ork finished at the basin and mirror, he walked to the front door. The dog was still before the hearth. She looked up at Ork as he entered but didn’t move. Burkta was cooking breakfast.

Ork opened the door and gave a low whistle. Arakaza rose, stretched, and trotted out the door. Ork closed it behind her.

Burkta brought two plates of eggs and bacon from the hearth and set them on the table. She sat and said, “Somehow, Arakaza got in the house last night.”

“Because I allowed it,” said Ork.

A tiny grin pulled at the corners of Burkta’s lips. She raised her cup of tea to him and sipped. Ork sat and began to eat his eggs. Burkta took a piece of bacon from her plate and slowly reached across the table to place it on his.

Ork looked at the additional bacon. “Is that for the dog?”

“No. It’s for the coyote.”

Ork took the bacon with a smile and ate it.

That evening and for many after, Ork checked his Took Book and left their home to take care of his business. Each time, he made sure to close the dog in the barn so it wouldn’t follow him and each night, much to his chagrin, he was faced with the dog at one of his jobs, at which point he would call it a night and walk home. There were a few rainy nights too, and the dog came in to sleep by the hearth more often than not. Burkta made her a wee bed and gave her a blanket which lived by the hearth. But each morning, Arakaza was sitting next to the door waiting to go out for the day.

Ork tried varying his rout into town each night, and breaking up his usual pattern of picking his job sites, he even spent good money buying supplies and fixing the holes and lose boards in his barn, and still the dog followed him into town.

After several narrow escapes, when the dog’s barking or growling brought unwanted attention, Ork took to carrying treats. This helped to keep her quiet, but this only seemed to encourage her to follow him and cut short his taking.

One night, he took to Bent Hill, as he’d overheard in the market that Silverloom had taken his family to Monger to sell their wares. Being one of the richest merchants in town, Ork was sure to find something interesting to take and a good tip besides. In fact, over the years, Silverloom had tipped him enough to make up for many of the folks were baretailed with nothing to spare. It wasn’t any grand plan of Ork’s, it was just the way things were. Silverloom was a likable fellow, even generous by some accounts. So why should Ork rob him of that?

Ork crept up the High Road and round to Silverloom’s house. He knew the right tree to get over the fence and crosses through the grand garden, into the house like a fox through a hedge. The guards at the gate and the front of the house were none the wiser.

Inside, he made his way to the great hall. It was not as grand or as old as Blacktooth’s lodge, but it was ripe with treasures to pluck. He took a tip from Silverloom’s lockbox and settled on a smooth, silver wedding jug sitting in a niche. He had been at Silverloom’s wedding and knew his actual wedding jug was clay, so this was just a garish bobble. Its prominence in the room guaranteed it would be missed soon, and consequently celebrated when it returned on Scrithams Day.

Ork had slipped the jug into his bag and was out in the garden. He was thinking about what fun he might add to returning the jug, like filling it with wine or candy. Suddenly, there was the loud snap of a stick beneath his foot.

He froze. His heart and mind raced. How could I have been so careless? he thought.

The guard at the gate and the guard at the front door both stepped toward one another.

“That you?” bellowed the guard at the gate.

“No. I think it was in the garden.”

The guards opened their lanterns and started to sweep through the property. Ork looked to his left. The only thing to hide behind were some roses. His path back to the house was out. He might be able to go back around the border, but that led only to the cliff and a sure-as-dead drop into Hamshackle. The only way out was forward to the road.

Carefully, he slunk between the roses, avoiding the thorns as best he could. The guards were closing in, reducing his chance to escape with each step. He slowly crept toward the front fence on his hands and knees, ducking when the beams of lantern light spilled through the gaps in the garden.

The guards met a few feet away from him.

“See anythin’?” said the gate guard.

“Nah. You?”

“Nothin’.”

“We best check the rest of the garden to be sure.”

“Aye.”

They took a step in Ork’s direction. His heartbeat banged in his neck. Sweat ran down his face. They took another step.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

The house guard looked toward the road and said, “What’s that then?”

“Dog.”

“I ken’d it’s a dog. What’s it doin’ up here?”

“There ain’t no dogs up here?”

“Nah. Silverloom an’ the others prefer men to dogs. That’s why you and me got jobs.”

Arakaza appeared at the gate and continued to bark.

“What you think he wants?” asked the gate guard.

“How should I ken?”

“Should I go check it out?”

“Yeahr. I’ll wait here.”

The gate guard walked through the fringe of the garden and into the yard. The other guard followed a few steps and watched after him.

“What you want, big fella?” asked the gate guard.

The dog barked and wagged her tail.

“What’s he doin’?” asked the house guard.

“Dinna ken. What you want, big fella?”

The gate guard opened the gate a bit and Arakaza burst in past him. She ran into the yard and barked at him. She made two quick circles, and then ran towards the garden when the guard made a grab for her.

Ork closed his eyes. Stupid dog! She’s going to lead them straight to me!

“Get him,” shouted the gate guard.

The house guard left the garden and joined his mate chasing after the dog in the yard. She went this way and that, dodging and ducking, running circles around the two men. She would stop and wait for them to catch up, then run again, leading toward the gate and away from the garden. At times she wagged her tail and let them chase her, at other moments she growled and did the chasing.

Ork stifled a laugh when he saw what was happening and took the opportunity to speedily make his way along the side fence to the front of the property. He waited for the men to chase the dog away from him and climbed up the tree in the corner and hop over the fence. There, he mimicked a nightjar’s whip-poor-will and waited in the shadow of the trees on the road.

Finally, the men managed to herd the dog out the gate and close it behind her. They stood panting and watching the dog run down the road and disappear over the crest of the hill.

“What do you think that was all about?”

“Got me. Probably just chasing a cat.”

“Aye, a cat or a coyote.”

“Probably what we heard in the garden.”

“Yeahr. He’s long gone by now. I’m headed back to the house. You want somethin’?”

“Sure. I’ll take a bite to eat and a bit of mead. It’s near midnight.”

“Aye.”

Ork waited as the house guard went to the house and the gate guard sat down. When the latter turned his back to the gate, Ork made his way swiftly through the shadows and down the High Road.

Arakaza was waiting for him at the bottom o’ the hill in Dreg’s Saddle. She got up, wagging her tail and approached. Ork eyed her curiously, reached into his pocket and gave her a meat treat. She took it, chewed it twice and swallowed.

Ork frowned and said, “Well, I dinna ken if  you deserve that one or you deserve a handful. But just in case, thanks.” He patted her on the head, then tossed her another treat and they headed home.

That night, Ork woke to the sound of Arakaza entering his bedroom, dragging the bed Burkta had made for her. In the dim light, she placed the wee bed at the foot of his bed and left. Shortly, she returned with the blanket, placed it on her bed, then circled in the bed, trampling and pawing the blanket into a nest. Finally, she laid down to sleep and Ork allowed it.

*

The next evening, Ork closed Arakaza in the barn, then hid and waited for her to come out. It wasn’t long before the handle of the barn door lifted and out trotted the dog. To his surprise, she turned and pushed the door closed behind her.

Any dog clever enough to open a barn door and close it can do anything, he thought. Maybe even lead guards away …

From that day forward, he gave up on trying to keep Arakaza away and focused on training her. For two weeks, they trained together by day and honed their new skills by night.

Burkta interrupted their training one afternoon and asked Ork, “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“I’m training the dog,” he replied.

“I thought Treeodin said she was untrainable. You think you can train her better than Treeodin?”

“Not for hunting or war, but Arakaza isn’t made for war. She’s too clever for that”

Ork went on to explain how she got out of the barn. He then told her the story of what happened at Silverloom’s house.

“There might be a bit of Coyote in that one,” said Burkta.

“And Treeodin taught her more than he kens. She responds to hand signals and bird calls, just as good as I saw when I served.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye,” said Ork. “I’m trainin’ her to be me lookout.”

“Lookout sounds a lot like guardin’, which we both ken she failed at, Ork. You sure this is a good idea?”

“I thought the same,” said Ork, “but I saw something that night at Silverloom’s what took me a while to piece together. She wasn’t guardin’ somethin’ or some place that night, she was guardin’ me. And that’s somethin’ I can build on.”

Burkta chuckled and shook her head. “Leave it to my husband to figure out how to use a dog for takin’.”

“And givin’ back,” said Ork. “If things work out, I’m takin’ her with me Scrithams Eve.”

“That’s your busiest night o’ the year, Ork. And the most dangerous!”

“Aye. But I have time to work with her before that. If it’s not workin’ I’ll leave her with you.”

“Gee, that’s just what I need. A dog in the kitchen while I bake my pies.”

*

After two moons, Ork took Arakaza with him every night. She stood watch in the bushes and alleys while he took care of business. On three occasions she warned him when someone approached, and he easily avoided discovery.

The real test came when Ork went to the island. Warriors and dogs guarded the grand lodges and he was tempted to go by himself as he had done for years. He scouted the area with her for two evenings but didn’t like how it felt. There were just too many comings and goings, too many distractions for a dog. So, on the night, he tried to sneak out without her, but Arakaza would have none of it. She raced to the door and latched on to his breeches until he opened the door and let her out.

Standing on the porch, he said to her, “Do ya ken where I’m going, lassie?”

She moved side-to-side, anxiously watching him.

“You want to go to the island?”

Arakaza gave a quiet bark.

“Very well. Don’t make me regret this.”

It was a new moon, so they made their way through town mostly unnoticed. Ork tipped his hat to Tusints and Catchrat each on their way home, and continued on as any man out for a nighttime stroll with his dog.

They crossed the lake bridge and skirted into the brush before the street leading through the heart of the island. Carefully, they went around Blacktooth’s lodge, avoiding Grimhand and his warriors, and then onto Ampleblood’s lodge, where, as usual,  he went through the back, setting Arakaza to guard from the bushes by the door. She tried to enter with him, but after a treat and some petting, she calmed down and sat.

He made his way through the kitchen and corridor to the clan lodge. The bronze dragon tooth greeted him from its niche across the room, now boxed in behind a thick glass. He thought for a moment about taking it, to possibly start a tradition of returning on Scrithams Eve like Widow Glumpot’s pepper shaker and a certain silver bowl inlaid with black stones, but then thought better of it. It would take time he didn’t want to spend, and set a pattern that might create a kind of unhealthy one-upmanship between owner and taker, not to mention that the Scrithams had a reputation for randomness in borrowing items. While his mind was on that and the last time the tooth was taken, he was minded that this was the very room he first saw his son, Isslerud. Ork smiled. He had some good memories in this old hall.

Ork shook his head. He was wasting time with a green lookout waiting outside. Quickly, he eyed the emblems of power on the wall, all the way to the throne in the corner, and snatched an elf dagger from amongst the war trophies. He remembered the first time he had been summoned to do a locksmithing job for Ampleblood, years before, and more importantly, how he got paid. He sat on the throne, then ran his fingers over the claw-like finials on the handrests. One of the claws moved. There was a soft click, and he reached under the left arm and pulled out the master’s purse from its hiding place.

Still there, he thought. Rich or poor, an ocelot can’t change its spots.

He tipped himself from the purse, returned it to its hole, and slunk back through the corridor to the kitchen. He cracked the back door expecting to find Arakaza’s nose but instead saw her running away, her tail flipping from side to side. She was followed by a tan dog what was dragging one of Grimhand’s warriors by its leash. The dog pulled with all it was worth and the warrior stumbled and ran, ran and stumbled trying to keep up. They disappeared into the trees headed for the end of the island. Ork slipped outside and closed the door. He waited for a while, not knowing what he should do. At last, he gave a whip-poor-will call and darted away to the edge of the island overlooking Arrowhead Lake. From there he circled back to the main road and waited for Grimhand’s men to turn from their patrol at the corner and head back to Blacktooth’s.

Before long, Ork had crossed the lake bridge, strolled passed Bent Hill and turned up the road for home. He expected Arakaza to catch up with him, but she didn’t. To give her time to catch up, and to slake a sudden thirst, he stopped in at Shady’s for a pint.

He arrived just in time to help Glamwart taste his first grog of the night and settled in for a second. Several times, Ork got up, opened the door and looked out, then returned to his seat.

About the forth time, Glamwart asked him, “What’s wrong, Ork?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re like Wee-Chuck in a den o’ cats.”

Ork sat and took a slug from his pint, but said nothing.

Glamwart continued. “You keep checking the door like someone’s followin’ you. You in trouble? Did you get Burkta’s ire up again?”

“Nah.”

“’Cause if she comes in here swingin’ her rollin’ pin, I don’t mind sayin’, you’re on your own, mate.”

Ork grinned. “That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?”

“Speak for yourself. I can still feel the lump on me head.”

Ork laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell her. She’ll be proud to know her lickin’ left such an impression all these years.”

“Well look, if it ain’t Burkta then who?”

“It’s nothin’ like that. I was just walkin’ that dog I told you about and she took off.”

“You think she’ll come here?”

“She’s clever and good at trackin’ me down, so yeah, maybe.”

Ork finished his pint, brought Glamwart his third, then tasted it and headed home, leaving his old friend to fend for himself.

Shortly after he arrived home, Arakaza showed up. She pawed at the door and he let her in. He examined her as she walked in. Save a few leaves and twigs tangled in her fur, she seemed fine.

“Well, where have you been,” said Ork.

She wagged her tail and went to her water bowl by the hearth. He knelt next to her and picked the debris from her fur. He handed her another treat what she took eagerly.

“You’re spoiling her,” said Burkta entering the room.

“Well, she done right good tonight. Drew off two of Grimhand’s guard dogs.”

“Two guard dogs?”

“Yeah. One with four legs and one with two.”

“Oh.”

“Good lass,” cooed Ork. “Now it’s time for bed.”

Ork got into his nightshirt, petted Arakaza in her bed, then slipped under his own covers. A minute later, he felt the bed shake and the dog walking on his legs. He sat up.

“Whoa, whoa there, Arakaza. What’s gotten into you.”

Burkta sat up also. The dog turned, lowered her head and started to rub against the two of them.

Ork petted her and said calmly, “Down, girl. Down.”

“I don’t think she wants to get down.”

Ork cleared his throat and spoke in a commanding voice. “Down. Come on, girl. Down.”

The dog continued to cuddle up to him. Ork got out of the bed and pointed at her bed.

“Arakaza.  Down.”

The dog flopped onto their bed.

“I think she wants to sleep in the bed with us, Ork.”

Ork tensed his jaw and sighed. “Very well. She was a very good lass tonight, so for tonight … I will allow it.”

He returned to bed, and after pushing the dog over to make room, he laid back into his pillow and closed his eyes.

(I’ll let you in on a wee secret. This wasn’t the last night Arakaza slept on Ork’s bed, but the first of many.)

*

Weeks later, Ork and Arakaza were now operating as a team. He no longer worried about his exit as she warned him or drew away anyone who might discover him. This allowed Ork to cover Rancor quicker than in earlier years and for once his taking was actually ahead.

One night, he finished up early. It was sprinkling and he decided to stop by Shady’s for a drink. He gave Arakaza the whip-poor-will whistle and tried to send her home, but she refused, laying down instead under the front eave, across from five Snowflake Appaloosas tied to the rail.

“Suit yourself,” said Ork.

He pushed open the heavy oak door to a ruckus. Four partially armored warriors stood across from him bearing their teeth and fists.

Smack!

The man, Dunmar stumbled back into the table directly in front of Ork gripping a fifth dag- wielding warrior by the wrist. As he turned sideways to catch himself on the table, Ork saw the blood in Dunmar’s eye. He was feral as the first night Ork laid eyes on him. He turned to face his enemy, drawing back the dag from his belt to strike the warrior in hand. Ork snatched his wrist with his right hand, holding him back with all his strength.

Stretched between the two men, Dunmar glared at Ork, a wolfish snarl on his lips. Ork pushed up the sleeve of his right arm, exposing the wolf tattoo on his bicep. Dunmar stared at it and the wild beast slowly faded from his features. Ork silently shook his head and Dunmars face continued to shift until it became stony and his eyes like onyx.

Ork calmly took the dag from Dunmar’s right hand with his left. The pommel was a silver wolf’s head with a wee shaman stone in its teeth and a lanyard hole, the handle was turquoise inlaid with three red pipestone arrows. He held the weapon high so the other warriors could see it. They had each drawn a dag or knife in response to Dunmar arming himself. At that moment, Ork noticed the appaloosa stone horse emblems on their brown leather armor and put that together with the spotted horses tied up outside. Their tack had been war saddles and silver bridles. These weren’t passing mercenaries, these men were elite warriors from the Horse Clan; what the elves called knights.

“Men of honor,” said Ork in a commanding voice.

The warriors stopped and Ork made eye contact with each. He then stabbed Dunmar’s dag into the table. One by one, the horse warriors did likewise or sheathed their weapon. The man in Dunmar’s grip dropped his dag and it fell to the floor.

“I knew I could count on the honor of the Horse Clan,” said Ork.

The warriors stood a tad taller and nodded.

They may have a pinch of honor, thought Ork, but they still plan to beat Dunmar to a pulp. And at five to one … where’s the honor in that.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.

The warriors stood their ground. The one held by Dunmar said, “Not until we’ve taught this whelp some manners. Right, men?”

“Aye, captain,” said the four.

A lesson in manners, thought Ork. That’s exactly what I was thinking.

He made eye contact with Dunmar and slipped a bronze rod into his fist. A second later, he threw his own weight behind Dunmar’s punch and they laid out the captain like a sack of horse manure.

While all eyes were on the unconscious leader of the horse soldiers, Ork filled his own hand with bronze and took up a fighting stance next to Dunmar.

“Don’t recall the last time I got learned in manners,” said Ork. “I guess I’m due for a reminder.”

“As you wish,” said one of the four remaining warriors. His comrades smiled and lined up across from Ork and Dunmar.

For years, folks argued about who threw the first punch, but none argued about who struck the last. In truth, it started with Ork stomping on the toes of his nearest opponent followed by a strong uppercut to the jaw, and ended with broken glassware.

Dunmar had just finished knocking out his second foe, but Ork’s was giving him a fight. The brawny horse soldier held Ork’s head to an arcade post by his throat. He reeled back with a candlestick he had plucked from a nearby table.

Crash!

Dunmar shattered a half-empty tankard over the stubborn knight’s head. The candlestick dropped from the warrior’s hand and he stared at Ork. His grip slackened and he teetered like a tall pine in the wind. Ork blew in his face and the horseman fell like a hewn tree.

*

Ork chuckled and touched his bloodied lip. It was already swelling. He grinned at Dunmar and said, “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Why not?”

“Name’s Ork.”

“Dunny.”

Ork bent over the horsemen, gathered their weapons and took their captain’s purse.

“What are you doing?” asked Dunny.

“Precautions,” said Ork, limping to the bar.

Ork set all these things on the counter. Shady took the weapons and dropped them into a box behind the bar.

Dunmar put some coins on the counter and said, “That’s for the tankard and the chair.”

“No, no, no,” said Ork.

But Shady slid the coins off the counter into his apron and announced, “Round on … ?”

“Dunny.”

“Round on Dunny!”

The remaining customers cheered, “Kurrah!”

“Now wait just a second,” said Ork.

“Man want’s to pay his own way,” said Shady placing a fresh pint in front of Dunmar. “I admire that.”

“Very admirable,” said Ork, touching his lip again. “But not necessary.”

“I broke a chair and a tankard,” said Dunmar.

“As part of a lesson,” said Ork. “And seein’ as we were the ones what taught the lesson and them the ones what learned it, I think they should pay.” With this, Ork opened the captain’s purse and placed some coins from it on the counter.

Shady slid these into his apron and yelled, “And two more rounds on the Captain!”

“Kurah, kurah!” shouted his patrons.

Shady leaned across the bar and pulled several more coins from the open purse. “That covered them other steins and chairs. This is for me table, and me lantern, and … tax.”

“Tax?” said Ork.

“Yeah. Bein’ a right horse’s arse tax,” said Shady. “That captain an’ his men come in here like they owned the place, orderin’ and pushin’ folks around. They started the fight with Dunny here.”

“What started the fight?” asked Ork.

Shady and Ork looked at Dunmar.

Dunny put down the cold stein he was holding against his swollen eyebrow. “After a couple drinks, the captain noticed the banner over my table and started sayin’ how The Wolf’s Legion was cowards and the banner should be torn up for use in the latrine. I told him he didn’t know what he was talkin’ about.”

“That it?”

“I may have told him to shut his mouth or I’d shut it for him.”

Ork chuckled.

“They didn’t take kindly to that and they all come over to my table. The captain ordered two of them to tear down the banner. That’s when one of them may have tripped on my foot and knocked the other’s head into the wall.”

Dunny pointed to Ork’s arm. “May I?”

“Sure.”

Dunmar raised Ork’s shirt sleeve until he could see the tattoo on his bicep. “Star eye,” he said. Then added, “Night Stalker.”

Ork felt the dark stirring that name brought up in him and he tried to force it down. There was no place for it among civilized folk.

“How did you  make it out?” asked Dunny.

Ork tapped two fingers on the counter and Shady poured him a shot of Blood Eye. He downed it and stared at the empty glass in his hand, hoping the warmth in his gut would buttress him.

“Sorry,” said Dunny. “You don’t have to say.”

“No,” said Ork, slapping the shot glass on the counter. “I won’t talk about what I done, but it needs to be said. You deserve to know. I got lucky. I got transferred to Faelendale after the second battle of Kitchenton. I only heard about the last battle later.”

Dunmar pulled up his own sleeve and showed Ork his tattoo. The wolf had a red eye and was surrounded by a thin blue circle. It marked him as the fiercest of warriors.

“Wolf Soldier,” said Ork. “How by Baldhammer’s Ghost did you make it out?”

Dunny took a long drink of blood grog and swallowed hard. “I earned my way out.”

“What?”

“You don’t believe me?” said Dunny. He turned and loosened his shirt to expose his back to Ork.

“No. I believe you.”

“No, look!” insisted Dunny.

Ork examined Dunny’s back. There was a long, straight line of small, star-like tattoos from one shoulder to the other.

“I’ve only met one other what earned their way out,” said Ork.

Dunny straightened his shirt. “Who?” he asked.

“His name is Grimhand, and he’s Chief Blacktooth’s first.”

“Heard of him,” said Dunny.

They drank quietly for a bit. Ork bought them another shot each.

“What were you before?” asked Ork.

“Shepherd.”

“Really?”

“’Round Kitchenton. My family herded in the meadows there and in Dragon’s Pass.”

“Kitchenton,” Ork muttered. “I saw what the hobnails done to folks there.”

Dunmar nodded. “That’s why I joined The Wolf’s Legion. Had nothin’ left.”

Ork held up his drink. “To the fallen.”

“The fallen.”

They drank their rounds and talked about anything but war. Turned out Dunny had been working odd jobs because none of the shepherds near Rancor would hire him. Apparently, they found out about his time in the Wolf’s Legion and, because of the usual rumors, didn’t trust him. The horse warriors were still on the floor when Shady shouted, “Last call!”

Dunny threw back his last swallow of grog. “I owe you another drink for steppin’ in when you did, Ork, but I spent my rent on that first round.”

“No, Dunny. You don’t owe me a thing. That’s the best fight I’ve had in a long time.”

Shady set three shots on the counter and nodded to the men on the floor. “Give me a hand?” he asked. “Take out the trash?”

“I thought you let ‘em sleep it off in here,” said Ork.

Shady pointed up to the large sign above the bar and said, “Number four: No jackasses allowed.”

Ork laughed. “Do you remember why Glamwart did that?”

“As I recall, he said, ‘Mokey needed a drink because riding drunk on a sober donkey made him sick.’”

Ork, Dunny, and Shady laughed and looked at the losers of the fight sprawled out on the floor. One of the horsemen snored like a snorting elk.

“To drunken Jackasses!” said Ork.

“Drunken Jackasses!”

They clinked their shots together and drank.

*

Outside of Shady’s it was drizzling. Ork and Dunny dropped the last of the horse warriors under the eave, next to his kin, with his back against the wall. Dunny posed the captain and one of his men into an awkward, sloppy embrace and turned the head of the snorer in an attempt to quiet him.

“Horse Clan put up a pretty good fight, but I expected more.”

“They are more, from the back of a horse,” said Ork. “But between you an’ me. That fight went about as I thought it would.”

“An even fight?”

“Aye.”

Shady came around the corner and shook the water from his cloak. He bent and pinned a note to the captain.

Ork read it. “Horses in stable around corner.”

“No sense good horses staying out in this wet,” said Shady.

“Aye,” said Ork and Dunny.

Arakaza, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, came over and sat next to Ork.

“Your dog?” asked Dunny.

“Aye. This is Arakaza.”

Danny went to one knee and held out his hand to the dog. She sniffed it and looked up at Ork.

“Go ahead. He’s a friend, lass.”

She sniffed again and then stood up and walked closer.

“May I?” asked Dunny.

“Sure.”

Dunny pet the large dog and she nuzzled him. As she moved closer, she knocked him off balance and sniffed him up and down where he sat. Dunny laughed.

“Well, I’ll be,” said Ork. “I’ve never seen her take to anyone like that except my children.”

“I’m Wolf Clan,” said Dunny. “Had dogs most of my life.”

“Well, that explains it.”

“Ork … Dunny …” said Shady going for the door.

“G’night Shady.”

“G’night.”

Dunny got to his feet with some difficulty. He clapped Ork on the bicep and said, “G’night.”

“Where you going?”

Dunny thumbed over his shoulder. “Rancor.”

“You got somewhere to stay? I thought you spent your rent money.”

Dunny leaned against the eve post for support. “I’m gonna bivouac. I do it whenever I run short.”

“That’s it! You’re comin’ home with me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense!” Ork held his hand out into the drizzle. “In this you’ll catch cold, and I’ve got a warm hearth waitin’ for us at home. … And hot breakfast in the morning.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Done.”

They walked home a bit wobbly and wet. More than once did Ork and Arakaza keep Dunny from walkin’ off the road, but they all arrived in good spirits. After they’d shaken off the wet, Ork let in Dunny and Arakaza and stoked the fire. He added a few logs to make sure the warmth would last. They all dried off and Ork made up one of the large benches as a bed in front of the hearth.

“Come on, girl,” said Ork leading Arakaza to the bedroom. “It’s time for bed.” He turned to wish Dunny G’night, but he was already asleep.

*

The next morning, Ork found Arakaza on the floor in front of the hearth next to Dunny. They were sharing Dunny’s blankets. As Ork approached, the dog woke and growled at him.

“’Tis me, lass.”

Arakaza rose, stretched and wagged her tail in greeting. Then she came over for a nuzzle.

“You were protecting him, weren’t you, lass? You were protecting Dunny.”

The dog continued to show him affection, but it was clear to Ork that she had already formed an attachment to Dunny and she was treating him a lot like family.

He let the dog out and looked down at the scarred, sleeping warrior. That could be me, he thought. I was in rough shape when I got out of The Wolf’s Legion. Thank Baldhammer I was put to work as a scrounger before I came home. If I had come home straight from Kitchenton, I wouldn’t have a family or meaningful work.

At that moment, Ork was struck by an idea. “I think I have a way to get you back to shepherding,” he said.

“Get who back to what?” said Burkta from behind him.

Ork motioned to the man sleeping on their floor. “I brought home a guest. Name’s Dunny. He’s going to be helping me around here a bit, but, if my plan works, it won’t be for long.”

“Terrific. Another stray, another crazy plan.”

“Hey. We got our son from one of my crazy plans.”

“Fine. Thank you. And how dangerous is this one?”

Ork scratched the wart on his chin and looked up. “Well … not very. But I’m gonna need Scrithams.”

“Well, now I feel better. Whatever trouble you two get into, he’ll get you out.”

“You make it sound like it’s all me.”

“I trust Scrithams to do the right thing. I trust you to do the Coyote thing.”

“And I trust you to make me and our guest a hot scrummy breakfast.”

Burkta looked at the black eye forming on the sleeping warrior on their floor and Ork’s fat lip. “Were you at Shady’s last night?”

“Aye.”

Burkta nodded. “Did you fight him or someone else?”

“Oh, there were others involved, but this one was with me. Right good fighter. Not much of a drinker.”

“Humph. Well … Your home and standin’. I suppose that’s deservin’ of a hot meal.”

*

After a breakfast of eggs, bacon and bread, Ork set Dunny to work choppin’ wood and fixin’ the fence near Witchwood. He left Arakaza with him and then trekked into the scrith and made a fire to wait for Scrithams.

Scrithams showed up with his usual youthful grin. “It’s a bit early for fun,” he said.

Ork turned from the fire to greet him. He clasped the mystical elfish boy by his arms. “Never too early for fun. You have recovered, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Scrithams. “My ears are ready for more fun.”

“Good. An’ speakin’ of that, this is for you.” Ork handed Scrithams a hat.

“Let me guess. Cousin Scritch is coming for a visit.”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

*

Ork returned that evening with Scrithams in the guise of his cousin Scritch. The children tackled the skinny, pimpoxed youth and they tumbled to the floor. The dog joined in, instantly taking to Scritch. While everyone laughed, Dunny knocked at the door.

“Come in,” said Burkta. “No need to knock.”

“Ah, Dunny!” said Ork. “This is my cousin, Scritch.”

He entered  and sniffed. Burkta had cooked her barley beef stew again and the delicious smell was on the air.

“That smells scrummy!” said Dunny.

“Why thank you, Dunny. It’s beef and barley! It’ll be ready in a bit.”

“It’s my favorite,” said Ork.

Before long, they all sat down to eat. Ork, Burkta, and Dunny sat at one end of the table with the youngsters on the other.

“You know, Arakaza is a natural shepherd … or henherd, I guess,” said Dunny. “When I was mendin’ the fence by the scrith back there, some wood hens drifted into your field and started eatin’ the seed. She and I herded them back into the trees like steelfins in a brook.”

“Wood hens?” said Ork.

“Aye.”

“But she ignores chickens. How did you get her to do that?”

“Well, at first she did ignore them, but I circled the hens and got them movin’, then I whistled a couple commands an’ she started to work them to me. Not perfect mind you, but she got the job done.”

“Did she try to eat them?”

“No. She shooed every one of them back into the trees and then stayed by me while I mended the fence.”

“She is a smart one,” said Ork.

“Aye,” said Dunny handing Arakaza a piece of beef from his bowl.

They continued to eat in good cheer. Both Ork and Dunny took seconds, which made Burkta smile with pride. However, during the meal, even though Isslerud and Scritch sat on the far end of the table from Dunny, he still heard them whispering in elvish.

“What did you say?” he asked.

Scritch looked up. “Beg your pardon?”

One side of Dunny’s lip curled up. “You speak elf.”

Scritch pushed his hat lower over his ears. “I do.”

“As do I,” said Ork.

“Perhaps, but not like him. He speaks it like an elf!”

Scritch stared blankly at Dunny. The wolf soldier glared at him, the heat visibly rising in his cheeks.

Ork leaned in, breaking the line of site between them. “Scritch is from Raven Tor. A lot of vets from Faelendale ‘round Raven Tor. And he’s just a boy.”

“Even so, why speak elf at all? What were you sayin’?”

Scritch sat up and said, “The boy misses the sound of his native tongue, that’s all. I was whispering as not to intrude on your words.”

Dunny put down his spoon. “Good meal, Burkta. Thank you.” He stood and went out the front door. Ork followed, closing the door behind them.

Dunny stopped at the edge of the porch staring into the distance. It was a crisp autumn night. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Burkta explained about Isslrud. You had to take him in. I get that. But why allow that cursed tongue in your home?”

Ork stepped up next to Dunny. “When Isslrud arrived, he didn’t speak much but elvish. We all learned a bit so we could talk to him.”

“I noticed. Even your daughter sprinkles it in like pepper.”

“What do you want to know, Dunny? Do we love our elf son? Does my family speak more elf than most because of it? Is my blood black?”

“Is it?”

Ork’s jaw tensed. “You’ve seen it.”

“Aye. And I ken you fought the cursed elves in Faelendale.”

“I’m guessin’ you did too.”

“After Kitchenton. I earned a number of them stars on my back fightin’ elves.”

“I thought we agreed not to talk about this.”

“Aye. I just never expected to share a table with an elf or hear elf over dinner.”

“I understand.”

They stood on the porch looking at the stars. It was a quiet night.

After a while, Ork said, “Why not come in and finish your meal?”

Dunny stepped off the porch. “I’m going back to Rancor, Ork.”

“Wait, wait,” said Ork. He pulled some coins from his purse and handed them to Dunny. “This is for today. I’ve got more work for you if you want it.”

“I don’t know. I may be leavin’ town.” Dunny turned and walked toward Rancor.

Ork stood with his hands on his hips and watched after him, but he never looked back. Burkta, Scritch and Arakaza came out on the porch. The dog eyed Dunny’s shrinking form on the road and whined.

Burkta put her arm through her husbands and asked. “He goin’ back to town then?”

“Aye, but not for long.”

“Do you want me to go apologize?” said Scritch.

“No, no. Give him some time. He’ll be in town for a few days, and then he’ll leave.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” said Burkta.

“Hope Scrithams and I can make a wonder, while you use your gossip circle to keep him here.”

“My girls?” asked Burkta.

“Aye. I’m sure they’ve each got an odd job or two needs doin’.”

“Aye. That they have.”

“What kind of wonder?” asked Scritch.

“The kind what makes Rancor the kind of place where a lost man can find a home.”

“Will I get to use my ears?”

“And how!”

“Sounds like fun!”

“Come on,” said Ork. “We better get started.”

*

Ork and Scrithams said G’bye to their family and went to the barn.

“What’s first,” said Scrithams. “We taking the wagon?”

Ork scratched his chin. “No. I was going to take the wagon, but Dunny has shortened my time.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“I didn’t want the children or Burkta to see what comes next.”

Scrithams’ eyes and smile widened and he rubbed his hands together. “And what’s that?”

“I want you to turn us into falcons. We need to cover a lot of ground tonight.”

Scrithams looked troubled.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ork.

Scrithams rubbed his ears and said, “I’ve never changed one of your kind into another.”

“Can you do it?”

“I think so. I’m not good at healing your kind, but I should be able to change you.”

“But …?”

“I don’t know how you’ll handle it. If I change you into an animal, you may not want to change back, and wanting to is important when you want to change forms.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to change back?”

“I don’t know how much of you will remain when you become a falcon.”

“I’ve seen you change forms a number of times. You always come back.”

“It’s different with my kind. We change forms like you change clothes.”

“So, if you’ve never changed my kind before, why are you worried?”

“Well, I changed a human into a frog once. He hopped into a pond with other frogs and I lost him. He was so completely a frog that even with my magic I had a hard time telling him from the other frogs.”

“But you did change him back, right?”

“Yes, but it took some convincing.”

“I see,” said Ork. He paced from the end of the barn to the other. “Is there something I can do to better my chances?”

Scrithams thought for a moment then said, “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared out the door and when he returned he had a red ribbon that belonged to Burkta. He held it under Ork’s nose and he sniffed it. It smelled like his wife. Scrithams then tied it around Ork’s neck. “If you feel yourself slipping away, sniff this ribbon. It will help you remember.”

“One of my ancestors was a medicine man, so I’m hoping there’s a bit of him left in me.”

Ork took a deep breath of the ribbon and stepped away from Scrithams. He clinched his eyes and said, “I’m ready.”

An hour later, two falcons were soaring in the moonlight over the meadows near Ricketspent. Five shepherds had brought their sheep down from the mountain pastures on their way home to Rancor. The shepherds were camped together on a hillside overlooking their sheep in a hollow. The campsite was well established with a simple stone structure and a stone fire pit. Their pack horses grazed in a crude corral. Below the camp, several low stone walls helped to confine the sheep to the bottom land. There were around two-hundred-fifty sheep in all.

One of the falcons bumped the other with its wing and they landed at the edge of the scrith. The dark cap-like feathers on the first falcon glowed and the one with a ribbon around its neck transformed into Ork. A moment later, the first became Scrithams.

Ork shook his head and said. “I see what you mean. Flying is intoxicating, though I still knew who I was, I didn’t want to stop.”

Scrithams smiled. “I know. Now what?”

“Follow me.”

Ork crept forward into the tall grass and spied on the shepherds. Scrithams followed.

“They’re asleep save one,” whispered Ork. “Make sure he falls asleep and the others don’t wake till dawn, then you turn us into coyotes.”

“What about their dogs.”

“These fellas are Snake Clan. No dogs.”

“I thought all shepherds use dogs.”

“Maybe among humans and Wolf Clan, but not Snake Clan. They don’t trust them.”

“Strange. Dogs seem so trustworthy.”

“They have their own ways. To tell you the truth, I don’t much trust Snake Clan. Too unpredictable.”

With triflin’ effort, Scrithams put the last shepherd to sleep. As soon as his ears stopped glowing, he asked, “Now, why are we changing to coyotes and not dogs?”

“Simple,” said Ork. “These fellas can tell a dog print from a coyote print. They need to think it was coyotes what took their sheep.”

“Are two of us enough?”

“It’ll have to be.”

“I can use my magic to make the sheep think there are more of us. That should keep them together.”

“Good.”

Once again, Scrithams transformed them. They went down the hill quietly and got behind the sheep. Suddenly, a third coyote, a young female, charged from the brush and the sheep started to run. The coyote with the ribbon and the one with long ears charged from different directions and cut her off, but soon the sheep were moving out of the hollow into the nearby draw. They lost a few head over the crest of a hill, but before long, they pushed the remaining sheep up a rocky ravine into the scrith.

They continued uphill, scaling a massive, gravelly scree slope with occasional boulders, and came to a cave in the side of the hill. The coyote with the red ribbon around its neck circled around and bumped the lone coyote away before she could take down one of the lambs. It yapped and bit him, and then circled trying to get back to the sheep. She tried again and again, but ole Ribbon Neck would have none of it.

While the long-eared coyote herded the sheep into the cave, the female gave up charging and instead started circling with her tail high in the air. It circled closer and closer to the ribbon wearer who seemed baffled by her behavior. He charged, but instead of running she cowered, and when he stopped, she turned and rubbed up against him.

“Ork! Ork!” said a strange voice.

The coyote with the ribbon looked behind him and saw a pale two-legged being with glowing ears standing at the mouth of the cave. He blinked and remembered a name. Scrithams.

There was a high-pitched ringing and the ribbon wearer grew taller and became Ork. At that moment, the coyote rubbing against his leg looked up and jumped back. Her fluffy tail disappearing into the brush was the last they saw of her.

Ork turned to Scrithams. “Everything set?”

“Aye. I have hid the tracks from the scree slope and the ravine. The sheep are closed in with plenty of water and hay. They’ll be safe”

“Good. I can’t believe how many we were able to get.”

“We could have got them all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could have taken them all here with magic.”

“Like the time you took me across Witchwood with Gladmoon?

“Yes.”

“And we would have left no prints at all?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re only telling me now?”

“I thought you didn’t like fast-traveling. Besides, this was much more fun!”

Ork put his hand to his forehead and pushed back his hair. “Remind me to ask for your input next time.”

“I’ll think about it, but your way is always more fun without my help.”

“Is fun the only reason you come back?”

“No,” said Scrithams. “I miss being with our family.”

Ork nodded. “Us too.”

“Will she be back?”

“Huh?”

Scrithams nodded toward the bushes. “The female … Will she return?”

“I don’t know. She was hungry.”

“That’s not all she was.”

“I think she was alone, but what if she had pups?”

“Did she smell like she had pups?”

Ork thought back. He closed his eyes and breathed the chilly air. His eyes popped open and he said, “That’s remarkable. I could smell that she did not have pups. She’s too young yet.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to rob a mother feeding her pups.”

“If she does come back, will she find the sheep?”

“No. The magic barrier I put up will keep them in and her from finding them.”

“Good.”

“What now?”

“Now we go home and wait.”

“You want to fast-travel or fly back.”

“You have to ask?”

“Falcon or owl?”

*

As the dim, gray light of dawn peered over the mountains, two peregrines zoomed in the hay door of Ork’s barn. A minute later, Scrithams and Ork exited.

“Why didn’t we do this before?” asked Ork.

“You never asked.”

They entered the house and were greeted by Arakaza. She sniffed them thoroughly at the door, then went outside to take care of her business. Ork grinned, asked Scrithams to let her in, then said, “G’night,” and went to bed.

*

That morning, Burkta allowed Ork to sleep in. When he arose, he found Scrithams eating breakfast with the family. Burkta was holding her sides from laughter and the kids had fallen off the bench to roll on the floor.

“ … She was rubbing all over him. Ork was so confused.”

Burkta laughed as she crossed the room to Ork. She gave him a hug and drew back to examine him. “You’ve got a nip on your ear, husband. Should I be jealous?”

Ork touched his ear. Sure enough, there were two tender bite marks. He grinned and said, “Well, what can I say? Coyote Clan lasses always found me fascinating. Why should you be surprised when an actual coyote shows the same good taste.”

Burkta pinched Ork’s ear.

“Ow!”

“Looks like she got a good taste alright.”

“Now don’t be jealous, wife. Nothing happened.” Ork looked at Scrithams. “Nothing happened, right?”

“Right … Nothing happened … ”

“Oh, come on!” said Ork.

Scrithams laughed until his ears started to glow.

“Burkta,” said Ork. “Surely you don’t believe … Do I have to swear on our wedding knife?”

Burkta crossed her arms and said, “No, you don’t. But if a handful of stray coyote pups show up at my door, you’ll feel the wrath of a Wolf Clan woman.”

*

That morning, Burkta got her gossip circle to put the word out about several odd jobs that needed doing around town. Dunmar showed at the job offered by Wida Glumpot and she sent word back up the chain to Burkta, who told Ork. He quickly found Dunny and discretely followed him throughout the day to find out where he was staying. Much to his surprise, he returned at the end of the day to Potter’s Alley and went into Glumpot’s house.

Makes sense, he mused. With her husband and son dead, she’d offer him a room with his pay. And he’d be daft not to take it. She’s probably fillin’ him with soup and pie right now.

Ork felt a sudden pang of hunger and left for Shady’s. He sat at his usual table and waited.

Shady approached and said, “Glamwart don’t come in but Fireday night anymore.”

“What?”

“I noticed you keep lookin’ at the door, mate. You lookin’ for him, aren’t you?”

“Nah. Let’s just say I got a feelin’ someone’s comin’ and I need to be here.”

Shady raised his eyebrows. “Suit yourself, mate. You want another one?”

Ork slid his empty plate and tankard across the table. “Just a pint, please.”

It was a slow night at Shady’s. Only one fight and one round for a broken chair. Ork sat at his table, sipping his grog until closing.

“I guess that feelin’ of yours was wrong,” said Shady, showing him out.

“Not wrong, just early, I hope.”

“Tell me who you’re lookin’ for an’ I’ll keep an eye out.”

“No need. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow then.”

Ork was back early the next day and took lunch. As Shady cleared his plate and brought him another pint five men entered. They looked around and came over to Ork’s table. The smell of sheep followed them.

The oldest, a lean man with a face like a raisin slapped down a parchment on the table. Shady tilted his head to read it. “Lost sheep? Ask for Ork at Shady’s.”

“We found that posted at the crossroads.”

“Aye,” said Ork. “That’s were I put it.”

“I’ve thought low of you for a long time, Ork, but I never figured you for a reiver.”

Ork held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you sayin’?”

“Don’t play coy with us, Ork. We know you took our sheep. So what game are you at?”

“First, I didn’t take your sheep. Second, I don’t know what you mean by game.”

One shepherd with a lightning-like snake tattoo on his arm stepped forward and slammed his fist on the table. “You’re trying to play us with your clever Coyote Clan tricks, you-you-you trickster! But it won’t work!”

“Look, I posted that note because I have a friend who happens to be the best shepherd in these parts and he’s looking for work. That’s all.”

The man with the snake tattoo stuck his knife through the note and into the table. “Tell us where our sheep are or so help me … ”

“Wait right there,” said Shady. “I don’t usually poke me nose into such disputes, but what proof have you got?”

“We’ve got this ransom note.”

“It’s not a ransom note,” said Ork.

“And coyote tracks,” said the youngest shepherd, wagging his finger at Ork.

The other shepherds stared at him.

“There were … lots of … coyote tracks … around.” The young man looked at the floor.

The old shepherd pointed to the table. “Regardless of what was found or wasn’t, there is this ransom note.”

“It’s not a ransom note! Let me prove it to you.”

“How.”

“I’ll prove I had nothing to do with your missing sheep.”

“Taken!”

“Fine. Where were you when your sheep were taken.”

The old man touched the man with the snake tattoo on the arm and he removed his knife and stepped back.

“We were droving back from the mountains and stopped at the meadow beyond Ricketspent. A place where we have camped and watched sheep for generations.”

“That’s a long way from here,” said Ork.

“Aye, we left the boys to herd what we could find and raced home by horse to get help. That’s when we found your note. We came straight here.”

“So not all of your sheep were taken?”

“No. But we wouldn’t expect a reiver to know how to herd sheep.”

“How many were taken?”

“What difference does it make?”

“How many?”

“Two-hundred and twenty.”

“Twenty-one,” said the young shepherd.

“Two-hundred and twenty-one,” said the elder.

“That many!” said Ork. “And now for the important question; when were they taken?”

“Two nights ago.”

Ork turned to Shady. “Where was I two nights ago?”

“You were here, Ork.”

“And where was I last night?”

“Here. In fact you were here all evening, all the way to closin’.”

The old shepherd turned back to the others and they muttered amongst themselves. Their voices rose and fell and at times things got a bit heated.

“But what about the ransom note?” said the one they called Blackneck.

“For the last time,” shouted Ork, “it’s not a ransom note! It’s me helpin’ an honest man find work.”

The tattooed shepherd said, “So you keep sayin’, but all we see is you.”

“Yeah,” said the youngest. “Who is this mystery shepherd and why haven’t we heard of him?”

“Where is he?” said Blackneck.

“I think you have heard of him,” said Ork. “His name is Dunmar. And I can take you to him.”

The shepherds returned to their huddle. At last the elder turned back to Ork.

“We believe that you had nothing to do with our missing sheep.”

“Taken.”

“Ehem. Possibly taken sheep. But we know this Dunmar you speak of. He is a troubled man.”

Ork nodded. “As are many warriors who come back from war. But he is still a great shepherd. And I bet he can find your … sheep and bring them home alone within … one week.”

“A wager, is it?”

“Aye.”

“How much?”

“How much is your herd worth to you?”

“Only a chancer would bet so much.”

“I agree,” said Ork.

“Then what?”

“One out of every twenty sheep he returns, you will give to Rancor for our Scrithams Day feast. At two per year.”

Ork watched as the old shepherd counted in his head. The others gathered around him and whispered in his ear.

At last the elder said, “And if he fails to bring back our sheep in a week?”

“I will pay you the cost of ten sheep, in silver.”

“Thirteen,” countered the elder.

Ork grinned. “You do honor to your clan, Bluescale. Twelve.”

“Done.”

The young shepherd stepped forward, “Um … What happens if he only brings back part of our herd?”

“My nephew, Coral makes a good point,” said Bluescale.

Ork scratched his chin and said, “If he fails to bring back your whole herd, I still expect you to make good on your portion for the feast; one of every twenty sheep returned, and I will pay my portion in silver equal to one sheep for every twenty he fails to return.”

Bluescale nodded. “Agreed.”

“And one more thing?” said Ork.

“What?”

“When he brings back your whole herd, one or all of you will hire him.”

“Two-hundred and twenty-one sheep?”

“Two-hundred and twenty-one sheep.”

The shepherds huddled again. After a short discussion, the elder returned.

“This is a good deal, Ork. But tell me, why are you willing to do this? If you win, you gain nothing but a few bites of mutton. If you loose, you loose a good amount of silver. What’s in it for you?”

Ork smiled. “That’s my favorite Coyote quote.”

“So what is it?” asked Bluescale.

“I gain a friend, as do you and Rancor.”

“I thought Dunmar was already a friend,” said Blackneck.

Ork nodded and looked at the table. “We were, but we had a falling out.”

“And still you do this for him?” said Bluescale.

“Yes. We may not see eye to eye on everything, but I believe he’s a good man.”

Bluescale stood tall and eyed Ork with a snake like stare. “I may have misjudged you Ork.”

Ork stood and walked to the door. “Come. I’ll take you to him now.”

*

Ork and the shepherds stood outside of Wida Glumpot’s house, rapping on the door. Like all the others on the winding street, her house was narrow, tall and packed between its neighbors like books standing on a shelf.

“Oh, Ork!” said Glumpot, answering the door. “So pleasant to see you.”

“I’m here to see Dunmar. Is he here?”

“Just a moment.” Glumpot turned into the house. “Dunny! You’ve got company.”

Dunmar came down the stairs with a curious expression. He froze on the last few steps when he saw Ork in the door.

“Ork.”

“Dunny.”

“Why are you here?”

Ork stepped back and motioned to the shepherds. “I think you know these men.”

Dunny nodded and came down to the floor. He cocked his head and knit his eyebrows.

“They want you to find their missing sheep, Dunny.”

“Why me? Why now? I came to you when I arrived and none of you wanted me.”

Bluescale stepped forward. “Ork tells us you are the best shepherd in these parts.”

“He did?”

“Aye. As to why now, someone or something took most of our herd and disappeared.”

“How many head?”

“Two-hundred and twenty.”

“Twenty-one.”

“Two-hundred and twenty-one.”

“That’s a tricky piece of reiving. Did no one see anything?”

The youngest shepherd visibly blushed and looked down. “That is my fault. I fell asleep.”

Bluescale looked at his nephew and said, “We were all asleep.” He turned back to Dunny. “When we awoke at dawn, the herd was gone. We found thirty-four grazing nearby, but no sign of the others. They just disappeared. What do you say?”

The shepherd with the snake tattoo said, “Ork told us you can do it alone, in a week.”

Dunmar looked at Ork. “Alone?”

Ork scratched his chin and wrinkled his nose. “I did say that.”

Dunmar crossed his arms. “This is more than a one man job.”

Ork touched Dunny’s arm and gestured for him to go inside. Dunny frowned and shook his head, then let him in with a sigh.

Ork held up his palm to the shepherds. “Just give us a moment.” Once the door was closed, he turned to Dunny and said, “If you bring back every sheep—”

“Tufflebuff, Ork! First you tell them I can do it alone, now you want me to bring back all two-hundred sheep?”

“Two-hundred and twenty-one.”

Dunny took a deep breath and tensed his jaw. Finally, he said, “That may be impossible by now. They could be scattered from hear to the Dragon’s Backbone. Who knows how many might have been eaten already?”

“I know it’s not a perfect deal, Dunny, but this is your big chance.”

“You mean my chance to fail big. No, I’m leavin’ town in a couple days?”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then stay in Rancor.”

“Why?”

“Because Rancor needs you.”

“Needs me? Ha! Nobody wants me here. The only work I can get is odd jobs. Half the time, I’m sleepin’ in alleys or floppin’ in Hamshackle, and winter is coming.”

“When I came home from Faelendale, I was a lot like you. No one knew what to do with me. I fought too much. Got drunk too much. Almost killed a man. I didn’t fit in.”

“What changed?”

“I met Burkta, and I made work for myself, tinkering and locksmithing. Sure, I had to do some … odd jobs here and there. But eventually, I got enough to marry her, and … here I am.”

“I haven’t met my Burkta.”

“But you will. There are plenty of good women in Rancor, in need of a man. You just need to give it some time.”

“What woman is gonna want a man who has no work?”

“You didn’t let me finish before. If you can bring back all their sheep, our friends out there have promised to hire you.”

“Why are you doin’ this Ork?”

Ork took a deep breath. He paused, and blew it out. He licked his lips and said, “Because I owe you.”

Dunny scrunched his eyebrows. “You owe me?”

“Yes. As a man who’s been down the road you’re on and come out the other side, I owe you. As a man who’s prospered by your sacrifice, I owe you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well,” said Ork, with a sheepish grin. “I also may have made a bet with them shepherds.”

Dunny laughed. “What kind of bet?”

“Let’s just say my money’s on you.”

Dunny shook his head. “I still can’t do the job, Ork. Not by myself.”

Ork scratched his chin. “What if you borrowed Arakaza?”

The ex-wolf soldier put a hand over his mouth. His eyes shifted left and focused into the distance. Finally, he said, “I don’t think I could do it without her.”

“Then, you’ll do it?”

“With Arakaza? I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

They went outside and told the shepherds that the deal was on. Dunny would bring back their herd in a week, as long as they provided him a horse and a guide to take him to where the sheep went missing.

*

Dunny set out for Ricketspent the next morning with Arakaza and Bluescale’s nephew, Coral. Ork encouraged Arakaza to be a good lass, then followed to watch them ride away from his home. They crossed the bridge and took the Plains Road, with Arakaza prancing next to the horses like a wee sister.

Ork walked back to his house where Scrithams waited on the porch.

“What’s next, Ork?”

“Step three.”

“Oh, boy! … What’s step three?”

“We wait two days. It’ll take them that long to get to Ricketspent. Meanwhile, we enjoy some time with the family and you can help me plan step four. I’ve got some ideas …”

“More fun?”

Ork nodded. “More fun. I hope your ears are ready?”

Scrithams’ ears went back and glowed slightly. “Ready.”

*

Ork and Scrithams arrived as falcons at the cave in Ricketspent just ahead of Dunny and Arakaza. It was nearing sunset. After transforming back to their usual forms, they checked on the sheep and Scrithams made sure that the sheep’s tracks up the ravine and scree slope were once again easy to follow.

“What’s next?”

Ork looked around the entrance to the cave. “You need to make this place look mysterious, and make us look like evil spirits.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Make us look scary. You know … dark, shadowy … spooky. That way Dunny can’t tell who or what we are. Oh, I know! Give us antlers, glowing eyes, and long fingers. We’ll moan and groan, and when he and Arakaza come close, we pretend to panic and run away over that rise. Then you transform us so we escape. Easy.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Well, we can’t make it too easy for him. Besides, this’ll make for a much better story than, ‘I found the sheep in a cave.’”

“It’s definitely more fun.”

“Let’s face it,” said Ork. “Who would you rather keep around: the guy what found your sheep in a cave or the guy what rescued them from monsters?”

“Monsters … ?”

“Dang right!”

Scrithams caused a fog to flow from the cave entrance and added some wispy floating lights. Then he created an illusion on them as instructed and they waited. Before long, Arakaza and Dunmar were hiking up the scree slope. Coral stood at the bottom holding the horses.

Suddenly, two dark, shadowy figures with glowing eyes and antlers emerged from a foggy cave in the side of the hill. One had long, dear-like ears and the other a rippling red streak. They moaned and groaned and rocked back and forth like trees in a high wind.

When the warrior got within thirty yards, he drew his dag and slowed his approach. Arakaza growled and barked, but stayed by his side. The two shadowy spirits threw up their hands when they saw the silvery weapon, then turned and ran uphill for the ridge above the cave entrance.

About half-way to the top, a large rock slipped down from above and struck the leg of the red-streaked spirit. It cried out in pain and tried to keep going, but it was held fast by the rock. It pushed and pulled, but the rock was simply too heavy.

The warrior and dog continued to close in on them.

“Coyote! Coyote!” yelled the trapped spirit.

The other spirit looked back from a few feet higher. It’s long ears glowed and both spirits shrank and became coyotes, which freed the foot of the trapped spirit. The warrior and dog froze upon seeing the magical transformation. They were now only a few yards away.

The long-eared coyote yipped and its companion turned to follow, but as soon as it did, it yelped in pain and lifted it’s rear foot off the ground. The warrior took a careful step forward. The wounded coyote faced him, baring its teeth and its companion came down to stand beside it.

Dunny raised his face to the sky and howled. He then dropped to all fours and before their eyes transformed into a large, short-haired wolf. He shook as if shaking off water and his hair grew to a fluffy, gray and brown coat. The wolf growled at the coyotes, raising its hackles and holding its tail straight back. Arakaza took a step back.

The two coyotes looked at each other. The injured coyote yipped and then made a high-pitched howl. The other coyote joined in the howl and its ears glowed. The pitch of their howls deepened as they transformed into two fully grown timber wolves.

The wolf that had been Dunmar wiggled and widened its stance. Its hair turned black as it grew into a black bear, easily three feet at the shoulder. Arakaza stepped back again.

The bear stepped forward and stood on its hind legs, raising its head more than seven feet off the ground. It roared at the wolves, baring its large teeth and sharp, curved claws.

The wolves glanced at each other and ran past the standing bear and confused dog. They raced down the scree slope as fast as the injured wolf could run, the long-eared wolf leading the way.

Suddenly, the wolves heard chuffing and grunting and looked back. The bear was chasing them with Arakaza following several yards behind.

Ahead of them, at the bottom of the slope, Coral spotted them and jumped. The horses spooked, dragging him to the ground before yanking their leads from his grip. After a few yards, they spun, and seeing the wolves and bear coming down the hill, turned and galloped away.

The wolves looked back again. The bear and dog were closing the distance quickly. Ten yards, then six yards, then one yard.

At the last second, the injured wolf jogged to the right with a yelp and its companion hopped to the left. The bear passed between them, sliding then tumbling down the steep slope ahead. It slid to a stop atop a huge, flat boulder protruding from the scree slope. It turned to face the wolves, its teeth bared. The oncoming wolves were going too fast to stop and the dog was closing from behind.

The leading wolf leapt and its injured companion followed. The bear rose up on its hind legs, stretching up with its teeth and paws as the wolves sailed through the air. The bear’s enormous height closed the gap between them. Just as it was about to swipe the wolves from the air, they transformed into ravens and flitted up out of its reach. The bear roared at the escaping birds.

The two ravens looked back as the bear dropped to all fours on the boulder and transformed back into Dunny. He stayed in this position, panting and watching them fly away. Arakaza came up beside him and barked at the fleeing birds.

“Good girl, Arakaza. Good girl.”

The young shepherd, Coral got to his feet, stared at Dunny, then bolted after the horses.

*

Ork and Scrithams flew into Ork’s barn as falcons and came to rest on a pile of straw before transforming to their usual forms. Ork immediately fell to his seat, holding his leg.

“What’s wrong?” asked Scrithams.

Ork winced as he felt his lower calf. “The shin bone’s fine, but the other is broken.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve broken bones before.”

Scrithams took Ork’s arm. “Come on. I’ll help you to the house.” As they left the barn, he asked, “What just happened, Ork? I mean with Dunny.”

Ork’s expression became troubled. “Dunny’s a shapeshifter.”

“I’ve never seen one of your kind do that before.”

“You’re not alone. My grandfather told stories about them, but I’ve never seen one. As far as I know, only shaman can learn to shapeshift. It’s powerful magic!”

“So Dunny is a shaman?”

“I don’t think so. Though he likely has family history with them. You know … I heard rumors while I was still in The Wolf’s Legion. Rumors that the wolf soldiers had some kind of secret power, and that they would win the war with the hobnails for us.”

“And did they?”

“The hobnail horde had come down from the mountains and we were barely holding on. There were just too many of them. A platoon of wolf soldiers arrived at Kitchenton after the second battle, and I was sent to Faelendale where my skills were needed. I guess the wolf soldiers turned the tide. An’ seein’ how hobnail goblins are scared to death of wolves, it all makes sense now.”

“Do we need to do anything? Are the sheep in danger?”

“No, no. It’s time to wait again, and hope Dunny gets back with the herd in tact. Now, what can you do about my leg?”

Scrithams got Ork inside and sat him down by the hearth. Ork took off his boot and pulled up his pant leg as Burkta came from the bedroom.

“What have you boys been up to?” she asked.

“More fun,” said Scrithams.

“I broke my leg.”

“Oh, Ork! Scrithams Day is just around the corner. What will we do?”

“It’s fine. Scrithams will fix it.”

Scrithams looked down. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“Yes, what do you mean?”

Scrithams gave them a very uncharacteristic frown. “I’m sorry. I would if I could, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” asked Ork.

Scrithams scratched his head. “Because your leg is not a plate.”

“What?”

Scrithams sat down next to Ork. “I can fix a broken plate or a bent plow, but a bone inside a living being … that is beyond me.”

“What about your parents?”

“Well … believe it or not, they’re still kind of mad at Ork for taking me all those years ago.”

“I can see that,” said Burkta.

Ork nodded. “We’ll just have to come up with some other way to do Scrithams Eve this year.”

*

A few evenings later, Ork sat in Shady’s nursing his leg and a second pint. His crutch leaned against the post behind him and Glamwart sat across the table.

The door swung open and in popped Dunny accompanied by Arakaza and a cool breeze. The dog ran to Ork and put her paws on his lap. Ork had to keep her away from his broken leg, and from climbing up on him, but she didn’t seem to mind. She wagged her tail and nuzzled Ork as he ran his hands through her fur.

“Hey, lassie! I missed you too.”

“She practically dragged me all the way here,” said Dunny. “She’s been clingy and anxious since we got back to Rancor. She didn’t even want her dinner tonight. I think she knew we were coming here.”

Ork smiled and asked, “How’d it go?”

Dunny stood tall. “You’re looking at a fully-employed shepherd.”

“You got all the sheep.”

“We got all the sheep.”

“By Baldhammer! Let me buy you a drink and you can tell us all about it.”

“I’ll get it,” said Glamwart. He waved at Shady and held up four fingers.

“And a bowl of water,” shouted Ork.

Danny spotted Ork’s leg, wrapped and propped up on the empty chair. “What happened to your leg?”

“Ah, I fell out of my loft and broke it. No big deal. Now tell me about the sheep.”

Dunny pulled up another chair and sat. “Well—”

“Just a second,” said Glamwart. “A good storyteller never starts a tale thirsty.”

“I’m not that thirsty.”

“A good storyteller also knows not to start with a thirsty audience.”

Ork and Dunny chuckled and Shady appeared with four pints of his best blood grog and a bowl of water. He placed a pint in front of each man, the extra one in front of Ork, and the bowl of water on the floor next to Arakaza.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Ork pushed some coins across to him and said, “Dunny here was just about to tell us about his latest adventure.”

Without hesitation, Shady pulled a chair from a nearby table and straddled it.

Glamwart put his pint in front of Shady. “That’s for you.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Meanwhile Ork had drunk a slug from one of the pints in front of him and slid it across to Glamwart.

“Thanks, Ork.”

Dunny watched these exchanges curiously. “What’s that all about?” he asked.

“I’ll explain later,” said Ork. He raised his tankard. “To the greatest shepherd in Rancor!”

“Who?” said Shady.

“To Dunny!

“To Dunny!

The four men clanked their tankards together and drank.

Ork put down his pint and said, “Now, let’s hear your story.”

Dunny scooted forward and set down his drink. “Let’s see … Coral, the nephew of Bluescale … ? Well, he and I rode to the old shepherd’s camp near Ricketspent. The tracks were a bit old, but two-hundred sheep tend to trample a lot down when they pass in a hurry. There were also a few coyote tracks mixed in, but these were strange. They weren’t attacking the sheep, they were herding them.

“This puzzled me, but we followed these and they led us to a ravine what spilt out onto the plain from Ricketspent. From there, the tracks led to a scree slope that led up into the scrith itself. There was an unusually cold fog rolling down the slope and eerie lights glowing in the mouth of a cave above.

“Coral swore it was an ill omen and that he would go no further. So, he stayed at the bottom and held the horses while me and Arakaza climbed the hill alone.

“As we got closer to the cave, two evil beings appeared. They were black as coal with fierce, fiery eyes and antlers, and fingers like long folding knives.”

Glamwart was frozen, his tankard in mid air. He hadn’t taken a sip since mention of the unsettling coyote behavior. He scooted closer to the table and asked, “What happened next?”

“Well, here’s where we were lucky. All the sheep were guarded by these two vile creatures.”

“How is that lucky?” asked Ork.

“Because, as fiercesome as they were, they hadn’t eaten any of the sheep yet.”

“That is lucky,” said Glamwart. He thirstily took a gulp from his pint.

“So, what were they?” asked Shady.

Dunny leaned in and his listeners followed suit. “They were sorcerers,” he whispered.

Glamwart’s eyes grew large as toadstools. “Sorcerers?”

“Skinwalkers,” added Dunny. “But Arakaza and me managed to chase them off.”

“How?”

“Well … First, they turned into coyotes.”

“No!”

“Yes. But we held our ground. Seeing our mettle, they became two ferocious timber wolves.”

“Really?” said Shady.

“What did you do?” said Glamwart.

“We put on our fiercest faces and scared them off.”

“How?”

“Let’s just say I learned a few tricks in The Wolf’s Legion. Once they were spooked, we chased them down the hill. They only escaped by changing into ravens and flying away.”

“Amazing,” said Ork.

“Yes,” said Glamwart. “So, where were these sorcerers hiding the sheep?”

“In the cave.”

“Ha!” said Glamwart. “I wonder if that’s the same cave you told me about, Ork?”

Ork stared at Glamwart and shook his head.

“You know,” continued Glamwart. “The one you found that winter you went to Ricketspent to find firewood.”

Ork frowned and furrowed his brow. “Nah. It’s probably another cave.”

“Well, how many caves could there be in that old scrith? Caves big enough for two-hundred and twenty-one sheep?”

Ork shrugged. “I don’t think the cave I found was that big.”

“You told me it was huge.”

“Well, what do I know of caves?”

“That’s quite the yarn,” said Shady. He swallowed the last of his pint and picked up the empties from the table.

“It’s the truth,” said Dunny. “You can ask Coral. He saw the whole thing.”

“I meant nothin’ by it,” said Shady. “I just meant it’s a wild story. One I’m sure folks around here will want to hear.”

“I agree,” said Glamwart. “You should stick around and tell it when more folks come in.”

“About that,” said Dunny. “I’ve got to get back. I just wanted to return Arakaza.”

“Suit yourself,” said Shady. “But if you come in here with that tale again, you can have one on me.” With that, the barkeep took his empty stoneware and went behind the bar.

“Don’t worry,” said Dunny, “I’ll be back.”

“You said Arakaza stayed with you through all that, but how did she do with the sheep?” asked Ork.

“Oh, she was great. Like I said, a natural shepherd. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

Ork nodded.

“And she loved it. You should have seen her.”

“I wish I could have.”

“I guess she just never had a chance to work with sheep before.”

Ork raised his tankard again. “Or a real shepherd.”

“A real shepherd,” repeated Glamwart.

Dunny nodded and they clinked their tankards together. The ex-wolf soldier put down his empty stein and started for the door.

“See you around, Ork.”

Ork nodded. “Dunny! Make sure you come in for Scrithams Day.”

Dunny opened the door. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Arakaza ran to the door as Dunny pulled it closed. She sniffed it, then pawed at the bottom and whined. Ork called to her, but she didn’t budge. He called her again, but instead of coming, she swatted at the handle and tried to open it with her mouth.

“She’s a smart one, alright,” said Glamwart. “Given a chance, I think she’d get out and follow ole Dunny home.”

Ork’s face sank. He grabbed his crutch and stood up.

“Where you goin’?” asked Glamwart.

“Out.”

“You need a hand? You’ve had a few pints. Can you manage it with the crutch?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ork went to the door and let Arakaza out. He then exited and closed the door behind him. He looked up the road as the dog ran up and bumped Dunny’s leg affectionately. The shepherd reached down and petted her, then looked back and spotted Ork on his crutch in front of Shady’s.

“Come on, girl.”

They walked back to Shady’s and approached Ork.

“You need some help gettin’ home?” asked Dunny.

“Nah. I can make it. I brought me wagon.”

“Do you need help getting in the wagon?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll see you around.”

Dunny turned and started up the road again and Arakaza followed him. He stopped and pointed at Ork.

“Go back to Ork, girl. I’ll see you later.”

“Dunny.”

“Yeah, Ork.”

“It’s me what should say goodbye.”

“Pardon?”

“Arakaza belongs with you now.”

“I couldn’t,” said Dunny.

“It’s clear to me now. She’s a good dog, but she deserves a better master. One that will use her true talents and let her run around pastures and work with sheep.”

Dunny considered this while the dog leaned against his leg. He looked down the road and glanced at the lake. Finally, he said, “I’ll take her, but if you ever change your mind … “

“I won’t.”

“I’ll bring her by for visits, if you like.”

“The children would like that.”

“Very well. It’s a deal.”

“She’s not a deal, Dunny. She’s family, and so are you.”

Dunny swallowed  and nodded. Ork could see that he wanted to say something, but there were no words.

“You better get back then,” said Ork. “Before Bluescale looses more sheep.”

Dunny chuckled. He looked down at Arakaza and said, “Ready to go home, girl?”

The dog wagged its tail and they walked up the road into town. Ork watched as they disappeared around the curve then hobbled into his wagon and went home.

*

A bit more than a moon in, Ork got worried that his taking wouldn’t be complete by Scrithams Eve and went out to make up for lost time. His grip slipped on the way out a window and he broke his leg again. The doctor, angry that Ork had been daft enough to “jump from a wagon” despite his order to rest, reset the leg and ordered Ork to bed.

“I’d shackle you to this bed,” said the doctor, “if I thought you wouldn’t just free yourself so you could go stomping around like your some kind of crazy grass dancer!”

“I promise,” said Ork. “No grass dance.”

“You had better not! If you want to walk with a limp for the rest of your days, then keep jumping off of wagons. If not, you’ll rest, let your family take care of you and let that leg heal.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“I’ll see myself out.”

“Thank you. Please ask Burkta to come in.”

After the doctor left, Burkta came into the room. She crossed her arms and gave her husband the stink eye.

“What?” said Ork.

“Why did you tell me the doctor said you could go out yesterday?”

“He said, I could—”

“Ork! I just talked with him. You should have been resting with your leg up. No more wagons and no more odd jobs until your leg is completely fixed. You’re stayin’ in bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, dear. I just got so worried about Scrithams Eve and Scrithams Day. I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.”

Burkta sighed. “I know. But there isn’t anything you can do. You’ll just have to wait.”

“No,” said Ork. “I have an idea. I need you to call Scrithams.”

“How should I call him. I don’t know Witchwood like you.”

“Take some cedar and sweetgrass and burn it in the fireplace. Clear your mind and think of Scrithams. I will do the same. He told me he would be nearby.”

“Is this what you do when you call to him in the scrith?”

“Aye, but I don’t know if it will work here. So, prayers are also in order.”

Burkta nodded and went to the hearth to burn the cedar and sweetgrass. Dinner came and went with no sign of Scrithams, so Burkta burned them again.

Around midnight, there was a knock at their door. Burkta got up and answered it. Scrithams stood on the porch.

“Come in, Scrithams. Why did you knock?”

Scrithams shrugged.

“Well, family doesn’t need to knock,” she said.

“I guess it’s just something I picked up around humans. I was with them recently.”

“Do they knock at family doors?”

“Some do.”

“What an odd people they are.”

“Quite. Where’s Ork?”

“Ork broke his leg again. He’s in bed. Don’t let him get up. I’ll put on some tea while you two talk.”

Scrithams sat on the bed while Ork explained his plan to save Scrithams Day. The first part of the plan depended on Scrithams completing Ork’s taking for the year. There were only a few houses left to visit and Ork could talk Scrithams through them all.

The next part came with Scrithams Eve. They would go out as usual, but Ork would stay in the sleigh with his Took Book and Scrithams would deliver the returns. Korka and Isslerud would divert the attention of anyone still awake with song and cheer as usual.

The evening next, as Scrithams got ready to go out, he looked through the window and saw Ork on the porch with his leg propped up on a chair. He sat quietly in the cold, under a blanket, staring at the road into town.

“What’s Ork doing out there?” he asked Burkta. “He should be in here by the fire or in bed. I’ll get him in.”

“No,” said Burkta. “Leave him be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ork is goin’ through something, Scrithams. He needs time alone.”

Scrithams looked out the window at Ork. “How long has this been going on?”

“He’s been that way for more than a moon,” said Burkta.

“Won’t he catch cold.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Scrithams nodded to Burkta and walked out onto the porch. He closed the door and said, “Chilly night.”

“Yup.”

“Well … I best be off, I’m hitting Blacktooth’s tonight. You sure you don’t want to come? I could set up the wagon so you don’t hurt your leg … ?”

Ork glanced down. “Nah. You go ahead.”

“What’s bothering you, Ork?”

“Nothin’.”

“Do you miss Arakaza?”

Ork looked at Scrithams, then eyed the window briefly. “Is that what Burkta says?”

“No.”

“Because giving her to Dunny was the right thing to do. And I say good riddance! That dog was more trouble than she was worth.”

“You could always get another dog.”

“Why? So it could annoy me, jump up on me and hurt my leg, get me up in the middle of the night to let her out, or lose sleep worrying that she might be sick? No, thank you.”

Scrithams lowered his eyes and stepped off the porch. “Any last words of advice?”

“Be wary of Grimhand. He’s blunt but still manages to be cunning from time to time. And beware his dogs.”

“I forgot to tell you. When I scouted Blacktooth’s last night, there weren’t any dogs. Turns out he stopped using dogs a couple weeks ago.”

“Good. I’ll see you when you get back.”

*

Six weeks later, it was Scrithams Eve. Ork’s leg still wasn’t healed, a condition the doctor blamed on too much time out of bed. However, Ork was not regretful, nor remiss, for in the weeks prior, he and Burkta put into play Operation Party, and Scrithams easily finished all of Ork’s annual taking. On the night before, Ork checked his Took Book twice and supervised Scrithams as he rigged the horse for silent running and loaded the sleigh. All was in ready.

They started out Scrithams Eve with their new, multi-pronged battle plan, as soon as it was dark. The sleigh team kept to the less traveled streets and alleys, their activities and tracks hidden by a heavy snow, thanks to Scrithams’ ears. Meanwhile, Operation Party emptied whole neighborhoods, making the job or returning items easier. The only trick was in the timing. And this was largely solved by Scrithams zipping in and out through chimneys rather than picking locks or going through windows, an inescapable disappointment for Ork.

The last part of the plan kept folks who stayed home safely at their doors while Scrithams made his deliveries. To do this, Korka and Isslerud sang songs, told jokes, and challenged folks to riddle, rhyme, and rune-word games. The kids enjoyed this immensely, as they loved all the activities and were often rewarded with treats.

Everything was working like clockwork. Everyone was happy save Ork.

Ork sat in the sleigh with his Took Book, waiting in an alley for Scrithams to return and get the items for the next house. This was usually the most exciting event of the year for Ork, but he was …

… so bored. I miss the lock picking and the sneaking, the pounding of my pulse when I hear a strange creak or make a narrow escape. I miss the unique smells of everyone’s home. I know this is important and everyone enjoys Scrithams Morning, but getting there this way is no fun. But then again … this stillness is nice.

After a long wait, Scrithams returned to the sleigh.

“What took you so long?” asked Ork.

“I ran into two problems. Two wee precocious problems.”

“Milla and Much?”

“Yes.”

“The twins caught you?”

“As I came out of the chimney.”

“That’s my worst nightmare. Those two give me the willies even without being caught.”

“I know what you mean.”

“What did you do?”

“I followed your lead. I threatened to leave only lumps of coal if they didn’t go straight to bed.”

Ork laughed. “I remember that. Young Tolock, wasn’t it? Caught me off guard that Scrithams Eve.”

Scrithams grinned to see Ork’s spirits lifted. “Well, apparently I do not make for a convincing chimney spirit or even a Scritham.”

“No?”

“I am, in Milla’s words, ‘obviously an elf, because every child in Rancor knows that elves work for the Scrithams to return borrowed things on Scrithams Eve.’”

“Every child?”

“That’s what she said.”

Ork chuckled and flicked the reins. The horse pulled the sled toward the end of the alley. Suddenly, a figure stepped out in front of the horse.

“Whoa!” shouted Ork, pulling back on the reigns.

The horse stopped. Ork felt a moment of panic. All he could see was the horse. He stretched his neck to see over it and Scrithams ducked down behind the dashboard. A man in a tall, black hat peeked around the horse. It was the town doctor.

The doctor stared at Ork, pursing his lips into a disapproving O.

“Evenin’ Doc.”

The doctor stepped out from in front of the horse. “I see you decided to ignore my advice, Ork.”

“Um … this is a sleigh, Doc. … Not a wagon.”

“So it is.”

“It’s lower to the ground.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t you say I should get some fresh air?”

“Indeed I did. I am so gratified that you heard something I said.”

“Well, I gotta go. I was just headed to the town hall to drop off some supplies for tomorrow’s feast, before I rush home and go straight to bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Big day tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice seein’ you. See you tomorrow.”

“Merry Scrithams Eve, Ork.”

“Merry Scrithams Eve, Doc.”

Ork let the doctor finish crossing the alley, then flicked the reins again and headed for Market Square and more deliveries.

*

Scrithams Day started with a sunny morning. The sky was clear and the fresh blanket of snow was bright and glisteny. Ork and Burkta sat in the front of the sleigh with their Scrithams Tree while Korka, Isslerud and Scritch sat in back for the nippy but scenic ride into town. Burkta and the kids sang a song, but Ork’s mind was elsewhere.

When they arrived at Market Square, Ork helped Shady with some light tasks, then crutched his way to an inside table to sit and prop up his leg while the rest of his family helped set up for the feast. It wasn’t long before the town hall and Market Square were crowded with happy revelers. Many of Ork’s friends and acquaintances came by his table to wish a speedy recovery for his leg and to thank him and Burkta for arranging such wonderful parties the night prior. There were many a “sorry you couldn’t make it,” “you should’ve seen,” and “maybe next year,” with a smattering of “have you tried the mutton?” and “what a lovely tree,” thrown in.

As the feast began, Blacktooth announced the contests winners. Wida Glumpot won both  Best Soup and Fastest Dish awards, Brea won for Best Woodhen, Ma Hatchet for Best Bruss-Cabbage, Groomba for Best Green Bean Grout, and Kull naturally won for Best Bread. In the last contest for Best Dessert, Burkta was eked out of first place by Chessa, who continued her winning streak with her sweet squealerky pie.

While everyone was diving into the desserts, Chief Blacktooth made his rounds to examine the Scrithams trees. In the end, though Ork’s family had put a lot into decorating their tree, they got an honorable mention and Dunk’s family won the Best Scrithams Tree award. Ork sat quietly with his leg up and a slice of squealerky pie on the table.

“Don’t be sad, Da,” said Korka. “We’ve won it before we can win it again year next.”

“Yes, maybe year next,” said Burkta, patting Ork’s arm.

“What?”

“I said, maybe year next.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Da … ?”

“Yes, Korka.”

“Can me and Isslerud go play with Tauna?”

Ork looked at his children’s hopeful faces, then up to the dais where Tauna sat next to her parents, Blacktooth and Tigera. The elf lass sat with her hands in her lap craning her slender neck to look in their direction.

“You done eatin’ then?” said Ork.

“Clean plates, Da.”

“Clean plates,” echoed Isslerud.

“Sure, if—”

The children bolted away through the crowded hall and Ork yelled after them, “If she’s done eatin’!”

Korka turned back and said, “Oh, she is, Da. Thanks, Da!”

Isslerud gave them a zany little bow and said, “Thanks, Da!” before sprinting after his sister.

Korka and Isslerud dashed between the tables, disappeared, then popped up in front of the dais. There was a brief discussion between Tauna and her parents, then she kissed them and jumped down from the dais. Once united with Korka and Isslerud, they ran through the hall and headed outside to Market Square.

Scritch scraped the last crumbs of pie from his plate and ate them. Then he got up and stretched. “Ork, will you be all right if I go outside for a while? I’ll be back for more pie, but I heard the Hatchet brothers are putting together a snowball fight.”

Ork nodded. “I’m fine. I’m not goin’ anywhere for a while.”

As Scritch left, Burkta stood and said, “I’m going to get some more tea and have a chat with Wida Glumpot. She still hasn’t told me about her pepper shaker. Do you want anything? More squealerky pie?”

“No thanks,” said Ork. “I’ve got one.”

His wife eyed his leg and his face. “Is it the leg or something else?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you still missing Arakaza?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! That mutt was nothin’ but trouble.”

Burkta set her cup down and put her hands on her waist. “That’s your first piece of squealerky pie and you haven’t touched it. By now, you’ve usually gone back for seconds if not thirds.”

He looked down at the table. “Oh, right. I’m just distracted. Must be me leg.” He took a forkful of pie and shoveled it into his mouth. “M-m-m. Good.”

Burkta watched Ork chew his pie, took a deep breath, then picked up her teacup and left. Ork dropped his fork and leaned back in his chair.

Just then, Dunny came through the doors in the back of the hall and approached Ork’s table. A curvy young woman with raven hair and a passing resemblance to Coral followed him in. She stood a few steps back, watching Dunny with adoring eyes.

“Merry Scrithams Day, Ork!” said the newly restored shepherd.

“Dunny! Merry Scrithams Day!”

“How’s the leg?”

“It’s still givin’ me trouble.”

“What did the doctor say?”

Ork gave him a wry grin. “He’s not happy with it, but I told him it’s not his leg.”

Dunny chuckled. “Hey. Remember when I came to town with Arakaza and you gave her to me?”

“Yes, at Shady’s.”

“Right, right. Well, first I want to thank you for that again.”

“Is she well?”

“She’s very happy.”

“Then she’s where she belongs.”

“Well, getting back to that day, something happened.”

“Oh?”

“She got away from me in town. Just took off. I looked but didn’t find her. I even stayed in town hunting for her.”

“You should have come to me.”

“Your leg was broken. But it worked out. She showed up a couple days later, healthy as ever.”

“Well … that’s good, I guess.”

“Yes. But … ” Dunny looked over his shoulder. “ Thread … ?”

The curvy raven haired woman approached and Dunny ushered her to Ork’s table. It was then that Ork noticed she carried a basket covered by a soft woolen blanket.

“Ork, I’d like you to meet someone. … Ork. This is Thread, Bluescale’s granddaughter.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Ork.

“And you, Ork. Dunny’s told me so much about you.”

Ork gave her an apologetic grin and said, “Oh. And I was hoping we could be friends.”

Thread and Dunny laughed, then she said, “I’m sure we will be. But first, this is for you.”

She held out the basket. A soft yip came from under the blanket.

“Go ahead,” said Dunny.

Ork pushed the blanket back and found three fuzzy puppies. They were black and gray with pointed ears and could easily be mistaken for wolf pups. The blanket stirred, and another puppy peeked out. It let out a tiny yip and tackled the closest of its littermates. The attacker had floppy ears and a long, motley coat. Though it was the runt of the litter, it was tenacious enough to get the better of its bigger sibling.

“They’re not fully weaned yet,” said Dunny. “They still need another four weeks with their mother, Arakaza.”

Ork looked up at the mention of Arakaza with a broad smile, then scooped the wee pup up and held her before him. She whimpered softly and looked at him with one blue eye and one brown.

“She’s beautiful,” said Ork.

Dunny nodded. “Like her mother.”

Ork petted the puppy then set her back in the basket.

“Ork,” said Dunny. “First pick of the litter is yours.”

“Mine?”

“I already told Treeodin he couldn’t have any of them. These dogs will be trained for shepherding, not war.”

“Don’t you want all these for herding?”

“No. Three will be plenty.”

Ork reached into the basket and pulled out the one with the motley coat. He held it up and said, “Then I want this one.”

Dunny grinned. “That’s what I figured.”

“You’re a beauty,” Ork said to the pup. “You look like your mother, Arakaza. I think I’ll name you … Aza. Do you like that, Aza? You do?”

Dunny and Thread started to walk away.

“Dunny!” said Ork. “Thank you.”

“No, Ork. Thank you!” Dunny stepped forward and leaned in. He tipped his head toward the woman with the basket. “I think Thread may be my Burkta.”

Ork smiled. “That’s great.”

Dunny nodded to the puppy on Ork’s lap and said. “I’ll be back to take Aza to her mother when the feast is over. Until then, enjoy her.”

“I will. How soon will I get her back?”

“We’ll see you in one moon. And I’ll bring Arakaza too.”

Ork smiled. “I can hardly wait.”

He pet and played with Aza until she fell asleep in his lap. Then he sat back, drinking mead and eating squealerky pie with zeal. Both Shady and Burkta stopped by as they circulated through the crowd to check on him and bring him refills.

As that year’s Scrithams Day festivities wound down, Ork was once again found asleep at his table amidst empty tankards and pie plates; his feet up, a warm, sleeping puppy on his lap, and a smile on his face.