Page 54 of Grumpy Pucking Orc (Orcs on Ice #1)

Ozar

O ur team’s progress was incremental, but it was still progress.

The orcs had struggled during our morning workout along Pittsburgh’s hilly streets, but no one grumbled, and everyone managed to keep their breakfasts inside their stomachs.

Practice that afternoon had gone about the same.

We worked on speed, turns, skating backward, then practiced with the puck.

That was about all I knew. If we improved past those things, I would be at a loss.

We needed a coach. We needed a trainer who could tailor our workouts.

Without those things, I was pretty sure we’d soon hit our ceiling in terms of skill and ability.

We also needed someone who actually knew the rules of the game, although Bwat was reading a book called Hockey for Fools .

It was a surprisingly appropriate title for us.

We lost at Pittsburgh. We lost at Philadelphia.

We lost at New Jersey. And we didn’t score a goal since that accidental one in Ohio.

But the sharp bite of humiliation had diminished each game.

We were skating better. And the teams we faced often lost the puck when they saw us barreling down on them.

They’d quickly regain it, but I liked knowing they were afraid of us and the hurt we could deliver if we slammed them up against the glass.

Tuesday, we arrived at Buffalo, where we had a day to rest and recover before our game against their team.

I was both anxious and excited for our final game before we returned to Baltimore.

Only a few more days until I saw Jordan again, but only a few more days before we had to discuss the looming obstacle that blocked the path to our happiness.

And this game…. Buffalo was Jordan’s hometown, and I was nervous to be playing here—especially with her family watching.

There were VIP tickets waiting for her parents, her brother and sister-in-law, two sets of aunts and uncles, and three cousins. Jordan’s relatives would be occupying most of the seats behind our bench, and it made me sweat to think of how they might judge our team, and judge me .

Orcs made their own decisions about marriage, but everyone valued their parents’ input.

Parents knew us best, and these humans who would be watching tonight knew Jordan far more than I did.

They loved her. And if they thought I might not be able to provide her the love and support she needed as my wife, their opinion would carry weight.

Summoning every bit of courage, I left a note with their tickets, asking them to meet the team after the game and giving them passes to the area outside the locker room, inside where even the press was allowed.

While we were supposed to rest Tuesday, my nervous energy wouldn’t allow for that.

Which meant that I didn’t let the team rest, either.

Getting off the bus, I barked at the orcs to meet me in the lobby of the hotel in an hour, dressed and ready for a workout.

Hearing the chorus of groans, I threatened anyone who was late with an extra mile run.

Yes, it wasn’t all that easy sleeping on the transportation beast, and the team could use some extra shuteye, but the hours of sitting as we rode from New Jersey wouldn’t be helped by falling onto the hotel’s furless beds and lying there until tomorrow morning either.

We’d complete the workout I’d put together.

The guys could shower and sleep for a few hours, then I’d make them get up again to practice on the ice until dinner time.

For the first time, I didn’t need to harass anyone or personally bang on their doors when it came time to meet for our workout.

The humans followed us or cheered along our running route, as they had since Ohio.

Their numbers had been steadily increasing, too.

I’d attributed it to the larger population in certain cities, but today I realized that our routine had attracted an unexpected fan following.

I overheard humans on their phones, telling others of our route.

Humans took pictures, shouted our names, even turned around to do something that Bwat called “a selfie” with us in the background.

It was cold enough in Buffalo for us to be wearing shirts, but the humans in the city entreated us to undress, even though they were bundled up as if they were summiting Gronalek Mountain.

I ignored them, but a few of the younger orcs obliged, tossing their shirts into the crowd and flexing for pictures.

I rolled my eyes, but knew I’d do the same if Jordan had asked with that appreciative glint in her eyes. We were all here to find brides to take home. Who was I to fault these orcs in their efforts to attract suitable marriage partners?

After our workout, I led the team back to the hotel, where once again I was in a room with Eng.

I’d hoped to be assigned a different orc to share with, but it seemed no one else was willing to tolerate Eng.

I didn’t like him either, but since he seemed to mostly sleep or ignore me, I didn’t complain.

By midafternoon we were on the ice, working on speed as we skated laps.

After practice passing the puck, I made everyone skate backward, turning back around to forward, then again to backward when I shouted instructions.

It was a total shitshow with orcs sprawled across the ice, so I decided we needed to only skate forward during our games and to make slow and wide turns as often as possible in order to stay on our feet.

We’d lose time and distance in the process, but not as much we would lose having to scramble up from the ice each time we needed to head in a different direction.

The next day, we did our workout and practice again.

When it came time for the game, my stomach was in knots, but at least I felt as if we’d done our best to prepare.

The roar of the crowd when we took the ice was almost as loud as it had been when the home team skated on.

Glancing over behind our bench, I saw a row of human faces with tiny white tusks, Tusks emblazoned shirts, and signs that said, “Go Ozar!” and “Ozar is our STAR!”

It took me a second to realize that Jordan’s family had on plastic teeth that poorly simulated an orc’s tusks. They waved enthusiastically when they saw me looking, and I returned the gesture, bemused.

At least my nervousness was gone.

“What the heck is that?” Ugwyll asked as he skated up to me and slid to a sideways stop with a degree of effortlessness that I envied.

“Jordan’s family.” I grunted, not wanting to examine how I might feel about the fake teeth.

“That’s a huge show of approval. Congratulations,” Bwat said as he slowly approached us.

“It’s typical for fans of human sports to dress and carry banners in support of their team and favorite player.

But we’re not the home team here. Jordan’s family is clearly demonstrating their approval for your courtship as well as your chosen profession. ”

But this wasn’t my chosen profession. My mind shot back to my Clan Guardian duties at home, the campaigns I’d been on with my troops, the battles we’d fought. That was important work. This? This was a game for human enjoyment. And I had mixed feelings about making this game my career.

First, we sucked. Jordan’s optimism aside, I didn’t see that we’d ever win a game against the agile and skilled humans, no matter how much we worked out and practiced.

Secondly, while I was competitive, I didn’t view this game with the same level of intensity as Ugwyll.

Winning any contest, always being the best, had been Ugwyll’s life.

I was driven to protect and preserve, to guard our clan and our territories.

While I was happy to indulge in feats of strength and stamina during a friendly competition, I didn’t see that as a driving motivator of my life.

Being a Guardian satisfied everything I desired.

This? I wanted to keep my commitment to the team and to my demon employer.

I wanted us to succeed and improve because developing others’ potential and maximizing their abilities was important to me.

But did the end goal of this sport really matter?

I wasn’t sure it did—at least not to me.

Thirdly, I’d always assumed this was a part-time, temporary gig until I found a bride to take home with me. But with the disastrous result of my proposal, I needed to rethink what I’d always envisioned about my future.

It hurt to think that I might never see my home and my clan again, but it hurt more to think that I could lose Jordan over this.

There were things I loved about this world outside of Jordan.

Would that be enough? Could this team be enough of a career for me?

My breath caught at the thought, and uncertainty flooded my heart.

But Jordan. Together, could we forge a life that might make up for everything I’d be leaving behind?

I had to say that the team gave this game every ounce of effort.

Well, except for Eng, that is. Eng still positioned himself along the edge, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at us all.

I was relieved when he was cycled out for Mohak, who might be a terrible skater but who at least put in an effort.

In spite of it all, we had a great game.

We might suck, but the Buffalo team messed up enough to allow us to score two points.

They won the game, but I left the ice energized.

According to Bwat, this was a reasonable score for the end of a hockey game.

No more twelve to zero. We were in the big leagues—at least tonight.

I had managed to score a goal with some dedicated assistance from my teammates. Ugwyll was the star of the show, though. He’d put the puck into the enemy’s net, showing off the speed that his dedication and obsessive practice had delivered.