Mick guided Bob through the winding streets of the village. The cobblestone paths were lined with quaint buildings, their roofs sloping in every direction. Mick had been to the town several times to pick up supplies with Rick, and despite his confident swagger, Bob couldn't shake the feeling that they were lost. The narrow alleys twisted and turned until they all looked the same, and Bob grew increasingly frustrated with the imp.

Mick stood outside a bookstore, looking up at the sign. "If I could read," the imp said, scratching his chin, "I would know what that said."

Bob grunted in agreement, staring down at the imp. "Mick, we're lost," he said, increasingly frustrated.

"Don't worry, great orc Bob," Mick said confidently, still staring at the sign. "I can't read, but I've been here many times with Rick to pick up bacon. I know these streets like the back of my right hand." Mick held up his left hand.

Mick felt it wasn't a good time to share the story of when he led a hunting party of imps into the plains. They were lost for days. It wasn't until their mother walked over the hill and shouted for them to come home. They had been walking in circles for days, and if they had gone right instead of left, they would have been home.

Bob looked around, taking in the sights and smells of the busy marketplace. Humans scurried about, darting in and out of shops, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Bob felt like an outsider, his tall frame and rough exterior standing out among the crowd. Bob didn't feel threatened, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't quite belong. He glanced at the shops on either side of the bookstore, their signs scrawled in unfamiliar letters. Bob couldn't read either; he learned to count and didn't have time to learn to read. Bob glanced behind them.

"Uh, Mick," Bob pointed to the building behind them, "There it is."

Mick turned around and exclaimed, "I knew it was here. I get my lefts and my rights mixed up, but we always find our way!" The little imp pointed his finger into the air with a dramatic flair.

When they entered the butcher shop, Bob's nose was overwhelmed by freshly butchered meat's rich, savory aroma. The scent of bacon, sausage, and steaks mingled, making his mouth water. He couldn't help but imagine the feast the twins could create with such a variety of meats. Bob's eyes widened with excitement, and he couldn't help but smile a broken-toothed grin. This was as close to heaven as he could get.

Behind the counter stood a plump man wearing a blood-stained apron, holding a large butcher knife. Seeing the imp, he shouted, "Hey there, Mick! Time for your supply run?" He caught sight of Bob and exclaimed, "My Rick, you've grown!" and let out a jolly belly laugh.

"No, Sam, this is great orc Bob, not Rick," Mick said, dashing up to the counter.

"Oh my!" Exclaimed Sam. He dropped his butcher knife onto the counter and extended his hand to Bob. "It is a great pleasure to finally meet you, great orc Bob!" Bob took his hand gently. "The imps have told me a lot about you. I'm glad you stopped by."

Bob looked around, feeling content. "I like this place. I'm happy to be here," he said.

Sam let out another hardy belly laugh. "So, the usual?"

"Yes, Sam!" Mick was almost bouncing with excitement.

"Alice!" Shouted Sam, "Grab the milk and eggs from the back." Sam got busy getting the bacon gathered into boxes.

"Is it the imps, dear?" A woman shouted from the back.

"Yea, and Rick had a growth spurt," Sam shouted.

"What?" Shouted Alice. She appeared to be getting closer. Alice walked into the storefront and paused, eyeing Bob for a moment.

"I'm Bob, not Rick," Bob said.

Alice let out a belly laugh to rival her husband. "I should say so! Nice to meet you, Bob." Alice was pulling a small wagon filled with eggs and jugs of milk.

"What is this?" Bob pointed to some meat hanging up.

"That's sausage. Goes good with bacon and eggs." Sam said.

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Bob asked, "Is it as good as human bait - I mean, bacon?"

Sam smiled, "Give me one second." He grabbed three sausages and stuck them on three long metal rods. "Come with me, boys. Time for you to experience grilled sausage."

Following the plump man, Bob and Mick made their way to the back of the shop. They emerged into a small backyard with a garden, flowers, and a grill. Sam wasted no time in getting a fire going, and the smell of the sausage cooking made Bob's mouth water. Sam plucked the hot sausages off the rods and tossed one to Mick and one to Bob, their fingers sizzling as they caught them.

Mick tossed the hot sausage from one hand to another while taking bites. He moaned with pleasure as he ate. The imp was enjoying his first taste of sausage.

Bob grabbed the sausage from the air, eyed it, and took a bite. It was delicious. He thought to himself, Orc heaven better have these.

Sam beamed with satisfaction. "What do you boys think?" he asked.

"We'll take them," Bob said.

"How many?" Sam asked, finishing off his sausage and licking his figures.

Bob looked down at the imp going completely savage on the sausage. "I'll take enough to feed an army. If I don't have enough, they may turn on me."

Sam gave out one of his signature belly laughs. "Deal!"

They loaded the supplies into the wagon, the eggs clinking against each other in their crate. Bob's mouth watered at the thought of the feast to come: crispy bacon, fluffy eggs, and now, succulent sausage. He couldn't wait until the twins worked their magic, transforming the ingredients into a meal fit for a chief.

"Hey, Mick," Bob said, looking at the wagon. "We didn't get bread."

"Oh, that's at the bakery. I know the way." The imp began to proudly march down the street.

Bob looked around and shouted, "Hey, Mick ." He pointed to the building next to the butcher. "The bakery is right here, isn't it." Bob had grown increasingly frustrated with Mick's misdirection.

Mick did his best to do a belly laugh but sounded more like a sick poodle. "You are the smart one, great orc, Bob."

"Good with direction?" Bob muttered as he shook his head. They entered the bakery and the chaos.

A tall, skinny woman in an elaborate dress and a sizable hairdo was screaming. Bob wasn't sure if she was singing or screaming, but if it was the former, she was rather good. On the other side of the shop was a short, plump woman wearing a yellow dress and a white apron. She was grimacing and covering her ears.

When the short woman saw Bob and Mick, she shouted, "Marie, dear, we have customers. Please stop," she paused to sigh, "singing."

"Oh, hello," Marie said to Bob and Mick, "Sorry about that. I'm practicing opera."

Bob nodded and said, "You have done your ancestors proud." The plump woman blinked, and Marie smiled at the compliment. "You sing as good as Ben, and she's one of our best. Maybe learn a few orc war songs." Marie deflated a bit, realizing that the compliment was for an orc, a compliment, but not necessarily for humans.

"Hi, Mick. who is your friend?" Said the plump woman as Marie huffed and walked behind the counter.

"This is the great orc, Bob!" Mick waved his hands toward Bob in a dramatic way.

"Oh, we've heard of you!" Marie said, recovering from her pouting.

"Yes! This is my sister Marie, and I'm Ruth." Ruth said, "How can we help you? More bread?"

"Yes, we need more toast," Said Mick.

Busy inspecting the shelves, Bob marveled at the pastries and baked goods on display. His gaze settled on a tray of bloated bread with blue things inside them. The aroma of fresh-baked goods wafted around him, and his stomach grumbled.

"Those are blueberry muffins. Try one, dear." Said Ruth.

Bob took one and ate it. He liked it. He felt he needed a cup of coffee while eating it. "This is good," he said with a mouth full of muffin, "We'll take some."

Clapping her hands together, Marie exclaimed, "Oh, goodie! I baked those blueberry muffins this morning. If you're interested, I can have cakes ready later."

"No, the muffins will do," Bob said, still enjoying the taste in his mouth.

"How many?" Ruth asked.

Bob's eyes widened with delight. "All of them," he said, grinning a broken toothy grin.

The sisters clapped with joy. Bob was now their favorite customer.

Bob and Mick struggled to load the bread and muffins into the overloaded cart. They lifted and pushed the bags and crates, grunting and cursing under their breaths. Finally, after rearranging and strategic packing, they managed to stuff everything in. Mick let out a triumphant cheer and waved to the sisters before they turned to head toward the tavern to meet the rest of the party.

Bob was happy to follow the imp's lead, knowing he had a better sense of direction now that he had explored the town. He gently nudged Mick towards the tavern where they were to meet Richard, Rose, and Rick.

"How do you think the others are doing?" Bob said.

"Rick is doing good. He's with Rose." Mick said.

Bob laughed and thought, if Rose doesn't crush the imp's crush, then Richard will. The poor creature. Bob had grown fond of the little imp.