There's no such thing as a morning Orc. Honestly, no Orc is happy when they're woken up before they're ready. That's precisely how the chosen few felt as they left camp for town. George, Bob, Richard, and Rick, the imp, had packed the wagon with everything they thought they needed.

"Why did we have to leave so early?" Bob grumbled while George, still bleary-eyed, nodded in agreement.

"Because we need to set up, gather supplies, and be ready by mid-day for the festival," Richard replied, stifling a big yawn. The yawn cascaded through the troupe, with Rick giving a little squeak of a yawn.

"Why us?" Bob complained.

"Because we have been into town and have dealt with locals the most." Richard snarled and forced back another yawn.

"I haven't," George said, raising his hand.

"You and Rose are our best baristas," that word felt strange coming from Richard's mouth, "But she has the most experience at the cafe," Richard said, taking a deep breath. That yawn was fighting a good battle.

"I could stay with Rose," Rick offered, raising his hand, but he wasn't sure why; it simply felt right.

"No, you know the town and all the right people to buy supplies from. You're coming with us," Richard said, frowning at the deflated imp. Rick's sadness tugged at his guilt. "Um, we need you, Rick. You know how everything works. From what I heard, we wouldn't be doing all of this without you. Thank you." Rick brightened up.

"I think Rick needs a title," Bob mused, staring up at the stars, silently wishing for the sun to break over the horizon, though he knew it was still hours away.

"Title?" Richard said.

"Yeah. You are chief, George is a barista, I'm the Great Orc Bob. He needs a title." Bob gave Richard a big, tusky grin.

"Great Orc Bob, my middle green toe," Richard snarled. (Hello, Dear Reader. Here's a fun fact: Orcs' middle toes are ticklish. When they say, "My middle green toe," they mean it's funny, but not in a humorous way. Because Orcs don't like to be tickled.)

"Sure, like, uh, head imp of supplies," Bob said.

Rick hummed in approval.

"No, that sounds silly," Richard said, stifling his yawn. He felt this was serious and didn't want to hurt the imp's feelings. "How about Captain of supplies."

"Captain? Like we are going to war." Bob said.

"Honestly, it feels like it some days," Richard remarked. That darn yawn wasn't giving up.

"Captain!" Rick squeaked with pride. "I'd be the first captain in my clan."

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"Is there anyone in your clan with a title?" Bob couldn't help it; he liked the imps and was genuinely interested in them.

"No," Rick got more excited, "I would be the first with a title!"

Bob and Richard exchanged a glance and nodded, determined to make the imp proud. They both thought they were excellent at naming things. (Not really).

"Quartermaster," George said with a yawn, stretching his arms.

"Quartermaster?" Richard and Bob asked together.

"Back when I served in the Lich's campaign, the Dwarves we fought had a quartermaster; he was the go-to guy for anything you needed," George explained, kicking a rock. "Fierce at haggling, too. I never felt cheated, but he always came out on top."

"Quartermaster," Rick said. "Sounds important."

"Well, it is. You are in charge of making sure we have all the bacon, eggs, toast, milk, coffee, and, and…" Richard looked at the others. The yawn made a strategic push, but Richard held tight.

"Yeah! We can't run a restaurant without all that. You the imp!" Bob leaned in and held up his hand. For some odd reason, Rick jumped up and slapped it. It felt... jubilant. Bob liked that.

"I hear by name you Quartermaster Rick," Richard said. The yawn was gone, and he was proud he could stay in a serious mood for the little imp.

George and Bob clapped as Rick blushed and took a bow. Suddenly a noise like no other whoosed across the plains. George, Bob, and Rick looked at their Chief, who had given the largest yawn in the history of Orc yawns. Dragons would have been proud, and no one could yawn like a dragon. The troupe of odd friends burst out laughing.

"Fine! It's early!" Richard grumbled.

The group walked for several minutes in silence. A thought hit Chief Richard.

"We did get everything we needed?" Richard asked.

"Sure," Bob said.

"Tent?" Richard asked.

"Packed last night, Chief Richard," Rick said.

"Table?" Richard asked.

"Yes, in the wagon last night," Rick said.

"Utensils?"

"Buying them this morning," Bob said, "With the new stove."

Richard hummed, trying to think of what he felt they left behind.

"Chief, we have everything," Bob said.

"Money?" Richard asked.

"Yeah, it's, uh, it's in the wagon," Bob said slowly. He leaned and looked into the wagon and found no money bag.

"Money?" Richard asked again.

Bob laughed, "Funny thing, you know, uh, didn't want to leave that out for anyone to steal."

"Like an Orc?" Richard said.

"Um, yeah." Bob said, "I'll, uh, run back and get it."

"No, Rick, can do it. He's by far a faster runner than you," Richard said, annoyed.

"Yes, sir," Rick started to dash off.

"Rick! Hold up." Richard shouted. He looked at Bob, "Where's the gold?"

Bob looked embarrassed, "Um, it's in my…" He started looking down.

"Where?" Richard asked again.

"It's in my sleeping bag," Bob said.

"What? Why?" Richard said.

"Well, to keep it safe," Bob said, getting annoyed.

George began to laugh hysterically, "You snuggle with a bag of gold!"

Richard's eyes widened, and he chuckled, "Yes, now that makes sense."

"What! It's comforting and keeps the gold safe," Bob defended himself.

George wasn't about to let this go, "Do you suck your thumb too?"

Even Rick was beginning to giggle.

"That was one time!" Bob shouted.

Richard laughed harder. "George, we pulled the honey-on-the-thumb trick on Bob?" he said through his laughter.

"No!" George said, now laughing harder.

"What's that?" Rick asked.

Richard looked down at the imp, "When we were young, we were told that an Orc would suck his thumb in his sleep if you put honey on it. So we tried it, and he did!" Richard laughed. "Bramble and my father thought it was funny."

Bob chuckled, "Yeah, I thought Thorn was going to beat us all." Bob lowered his voice and raised his finger into the air, "Don't waste good honey on sour cubs!"

"You sound like Thorn," Rick said, laughing.

"Don't tell her that!" Bob laughed. "She'd kill us all."

"Rick," Richard said, looking down at the little imp, "Please run back and get Bob's snuggle gold. We'll keep going. Catch up with us as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir!" Rick saluted and ran off down the road back to the village.

Deep in the weeds on the side of the road, purple eyes watched the little imp run away.