1. Rendal

CHAPTER 1

Rendal

" D addy, Daddy!" Zola exclaims happily, tugging along my huge hand. She gasps, seeing the human, orc, and centaur children in the distance, engaged in a game of tag. "C'mon! We have to hurry!"

"Honey, they're not going to disappear if we walk a little slowly," I reply, raising a brow at my little girl.

"Yes, they are!"

I can't help but smile as Zola drags me towards the playground. Her enthusiasm is infectious, even after a long day at the office.

"Alright, alright," I quip, adjusting the tiny pink princess backpack slung over my shoulder. The glittery accessory clashes hilariously with my crisp white dress shirt and black slacks. I probably look ridiculous, but I couldn't care less. Zola's happiness is all that matters.

The playground is alive with the sounds of laughter and excited shrieks. Kids of all shapes and sizes run around, their joy echoing through the air. A young centaur gallops past, his hooves kicking up wood chips as he chases after a giggling human girl.

"Look, Daddy!" Zola points to the swings. "Can you push me? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart." I lead her to an empty swing, lifting her up and setting her down gently. As I start pushing, I notice an orc boy and a human girl taking turns on the slide, their differences forgotten in the thrill of play.

"Higher, Daddy!" Zola squeals, her legs kicking out in front of her.

I oblige, pushing a little harder. "Hold on tight, kiddo!"

I prepare for Zola's signature move: flying off the swings and straight into my arms. I've tried and tried to tell this kid that she's going to break a bone doing this, but she doesn't care. Not when she trusts that I'll be right below her, ready to catch her if anything goes wrong.

"Whee!" Zola exclaims in excitement as she lets go of the swing and soars through the air.

I follow her movements precisely and she lands with a plop into my arms, giggling so hard that she's running out of breath. Adding onto her joy, I wiggle my fingers into her belly and make her crack up even more.

"Hungry, yet?" I ask.

"Starving!"

"Alright, let's go find a place to put our picnic blanket, then."

I scan the park, looking for the perfect spot to set up our picnic. My eyes land on a large oak tree not far from the playground. Its sprawling branches offer a nice patch of shade—just what we need on a day like this.

"C'mon, Zola. I've found us a great spot," I say, guiding her towards the tree.

I spread out our worn checkered blanket, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. Zola's glittery backpack finds its place at one corner, anchoring our little oasis.

"Alright, kiddo. Time for some grub," I announce, reaching into the pack I've brought along.

I pull out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—Zola's favorite—and hold it out to her. But my daughter's attention is elsewhere. Her blue eyes are fixed on the playground, watching the other kids with rapt fascination.

"Zola?" I wave the sandwich in front of her face. "Earth to Zola. Your stomach was growling like a bear just a minute ago."

She barely glances at the food. "Daddy, can I go play some more? Please?"

I sigh, but can't help smiling. "What happened to being starving?"

Zola shrugs, her eyes still on the playground. A group of kids are starting up a game of hide-and-seek, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.

"Tell you what," I say, setting the sandwich down. "How about you eat half of this, and then you can go play for a bit more? We've got all afternoon."

Zola considers this for a moment, her gaze darting between the sandwich and the playground. Finally, she nods. "Okay, Daddy. But can I eat it over there?" She points to a spot on our blanket that's a bit closer to the action.

I chuckle. "Sure thing, squirt. Just don't get too distracted and choke on your food, alright?"

Zola grabs the sandwich and scampers off to the edge of our blanket, plopping down cross-legged. She takes a big bite, her eyes never leaving the other kids.

I watch as Zola takes two more quick bites of her sandwich, her eyes scanning the playground as if she's a girl on a mission. Before I can even blink, she's dropped the food back onto the blanket and is bouncing towards me, pigtails swinging with each step.

"Can I go play, Daddy?" she asks, her blue eyes wide and hopeful. Her tiny hands clasp together in front of her, practically vibrating with excitement.

I laugh dryly at the sight. She's got a way of melting my heart that no one else could ever hope to do. "Of course, sweetheart. Just stay where I can see you," I reply, reaching out to pat her cheek gently.

Zola lets out a delighted giggle and takes off like a shot, her little legs pumping as fast as they can carry her. In seconds, she's disappeared into the throng of kids on the playground.

Leaning back against the rough bark of the oak tree, I let out a contented sigh. The park is alive, rife with young life. I finally have the chance to sit back and take in the sights. My eyes scan the area, making sure I can still spot Zola's curls among the crowd.

As I'm looking around, I notice another orc dad near the sandbox. He's built like a tank, probably works construction or something similar. But what catches my eye isn't his size—it's the frilly pink tutu he's wearing over his jeans.

His daughter, a tiny orc girl with green skin and pigtails, is twirling around him in a matching outfit. The big guy looks uncomfortable as hell, but he's got a smile plastered on his face for his little girl.

Thank fuck Zola hasn't hit that stage. I'd do anything for my kid, but I'm not sure I'm ready to parade around in a tutu. Not that I'd ever say no if she asked. That's just part of being a dad, I guess.

Still, I'm grateful Zola's current obsessions don't involve dressing me up. Yet. I know it's probably coming, but for now, I'll enjoy my tutu-free existence.

As I'm lost in thought, a familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Heads up, you green bastard!"

I look up just in time to catch a flying juice box. Grak, my best friend and fellow orc dad, is striding towards me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You trying to take my head off?" I growl, but there's no real heat behind it.

Grak plops down next to me, his massive frame making the ground shake slightly. "Nah, just keeping you on your toes. Wouldn't want those dad reflexes getting rusty."

I snort, punching his shoulder. "Please. I could catch this shit in my sleep."

We both jam the straws into our juice boxes, eyes scanning the playground for our respective kids. I spot Zola on the monkey bars, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she swings from bar to bar.

"Look at that," Grak quips, nodding towards Zola. "She's got more upper body strength than you do."

"Fuck off." I laugh, taking a swig of apple juice. "At least my kid can reach the monkey bars without a stepladder."

Grak's daughter, Mira, is barely taller than Zola's knees. She's currently trying to climb up the slide, much to the annoyance of the kids waiting their turn at the top.

"Hey, good things come in small packages," Grak defends, puffing out his chest. "Besides, she's scrappy. Bet she could take Zola in a fight."

I raise an eyebrow. "You willing to put money on that?"

"Hell yeah. Twenty bucks says Mira pins Zola in under a minute."

We both burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Two grown-ass orcs, sitting in a park, betting on something so ridiculous.

"Man, is this what we've come to?" I ask, shaking my head. "Used to be we'd be betting on bar fights, not playground scuffles."

Grak sighs dramatically. "The glamorous life of fatherhood. Trading in beer for juice boxes and UFC for PTA meetings."

"Wouldn't trade it for the world, though," I admit, watching as Zola helps a smaller kid reach the next monkey bar.

"Amen to that," Grak agrees, his eyes softening as he watches Mira. "Even if it means I gotta wear a tiara to tea parties every Sunday."

I nearly spit out my juice. "No shit? Mira's got you playing dress-up now?"

Grak groans, covering his face with one massive hand. "Don't even get me started. Last week, she insisted I wear fairy wings to the grocery store. Said her 'fairy godfather' needed to protect her from the evil broccoli monster."

"Damn. Sucks to be you," I quip.

"Whatever."

As we sit and talk, my eyes never leave my daughter. Despite everything we've been through, she's still a happy girl. So young and kind and ready to take on the world with open arms.

Being a single dad is tough, but a kid like Zola makes it all worth it. Ten times over.