Over the next few weeks, Forgh and I became fast friends.  We spent a lot of time teaching each other some of the stuff we’d learned.  I showed him what was edible in the forest, where the best places to find them were, and more importantly, what tasted fairly decent and not like something that ‘was good for you.’.  I also showed him the areas to avoid and introduced him to Ember.  I got a good talking to from StarJumper until she actually met him and admitted he might not be your typical ogre.

Forgh showed me how someone as big as he was could move almost silently through the woods.  For the most part I did pretty well, except my innate clumsiness seemed to shine through on a regular basis.  He also showed me a couple of  new ways to trap and how to make an ‘ogre sling’ which packed more power than the normal slingshots we carried.

I tried on a couple of occasions to get him to meet the other Lost Boys, but he always declined for some reason.  Knowing how I felt about meeting new people sometimes, I didn’t press it.  He did agree to meet Ember and his pack though.  I think that’s because Ember came tearing through the woods one day and ‘attacked’ me without warning.  I think the whole thing intrigued Forgh.

It would have been nice if he had agreed to meet them because I could have used some help when we played Capture the Flag.  I was no match for him, even when he let me use a couple of the cubs from Ember’s pack to help me.  He might have been bigger than I was, but he could run rings around me.  My size didn’t translate to strength like it did with him either.  There were a few times after he’d tackled me that I had to climb up to ground level.  There were more than a couple of occasions when one of the other Lost Boys wanted to know if I’d managed to find a redwood to fall from the top of because of the bruises.

I guess one of the things that surprised me most was how much he simply liked to sit and watch the clouds or the stars and talk about all sorts of different stuff.  Everything from why it seemed ogres didn’t get along with elves, humans or dwarves to how The Bucking Star managed to sell a mug of cocoa for two doubloons and still had a huge demand for it.  He showed me a lot of things that I hadn’t realized even existed, much less thought about.  He seemed somewhat surprised at a few of the things I came up with and told me he’d never met anyone that had a sense of humour like mine.  I think he meant it as a compliment.

It was a cold, rainy fall evening when I showed up at the cave to find it empty.  It wasn’t the first time I’d been by when Forgh had been out, but this seemed different somehow.  The cave had a cold, permanent empty feeling to it this time, even with the improvised torch burning away inside.  Forgh wasn’t exactly burdened with belongings and there wasn’t anything missing that would indicate this was any different than the times he had gone exploring, but there was just something in the air.  I wasn’t really surprised when I saw the paper on the ground next to the fire pit.  I bent over, picked it up, and opened it to see Forgh’s scrawled writing across the paper.

Cub,

In the starting, there was some human, well someone a bit less than human according to them, who told me I had to try to open up to find out what was going on in my life.  Funny words from someone who didn’t appear to be able to do it themselves.  Anyway, it turns out you were right.  Talking about things helped me look at them differently.  I see some things I should have seen before and learned that some things aren’t nearly as important as I thought they were.  Last night I realized I had to be amongst my own as quickly as possible for some reason.  I’ve gone to what you call the North Wood to see if the ogre tribe there will accept me and help me grow to my purpose.  I just didn’t want to disappear on you, but I feel as though I have to do this as quick as possible.  You’re my friend and my brother Cubby and I will be back to visit and will try and let you know what’s going on with me before then.  I hope you understand why I had to do this, although I’m not sure myself what the rush seems to be.  Take care.

Your brother,

Forgh

I read it through three times, crumpled it up in a ball and tossed it in a corner.  I understood that the reason Lost Boys were lost was because we could only depend on ourselves since everyone else abandoned us at the first opportunity as soon as we’d served our purpose to them.  I walked out of the cave and got immediately soaked as the rain had turned into a cold deluge.  It took me four tries to finally get up into the nearest tree and climb about twenty feet off the ground.  Since it was no longer wearing its foliage, I continued getting soaked as I sat there feeling miserable.

One of the good things about being semi-wolf like is that when you howl, the wolves around you can normally tell why you’re howling and react accordingly.  For the next few minutes I howled out all my frustration, sorrow and despair.  I was immediately answered by one of the wolfs in Ember’s pack who sympathized with me as best she could in her howling, but knew I didn’t need any specific action taken on my behalf.  I howled until my throat was raw and I was shivering from the rain.

A lightning strike into a nearby tree (when had that started) let me know I should probably exit from my current position as quickly as possible.  I climbed down a few feet, fell the rest of the way when my hand slipped on the wet bark of the tree, and started laughing as I imagined what I must have sounded and currently looked like.  I was still mad, upset and disappointed, but this was tempered by knowing that I hadn’t really been abandoned again.  I got up and started for the Tree, but suddenly stopped and walked into the cave.  I went to the corner and picked up the ball of paper.  I smoothed it out, folded it as neatly as one could fold a crumpled page with wet paws, and carefully stowed it in an inside pocket of the pelt.  I took a quick last look around the cave and headed back to where the other Lost Boys were.  It could be Forgh was right and I should be a tiny bit more open.  Maybe.

I sat there for a moment listening to the waves and the gulls and the echo of Forgh’s question. I’d never told anyone my whole story. Just bits and pieces to Roo when he was still here and a little of it to Peter the night he brought me to Neverland. It hadn’t been hard to tell Peter simply because he appeared to know most of it already. Roo hadn’t known, but then I hadn’t given him much except some of the high points of the low. I looked over at Forgh who sat regarding me silently. For a moment I felt like jumping up and hightailing it away from the beach. Then the moment passed and I thought it might help Forgh to discover that he wasn’t alone when it came to some things.

“Once upon a time, there lived a kid who could do nothing right. Your problem was being too scrawny? Mine was the exact opposite. I was way too big and fat. My father was a constable. That’s sort of like…” I tried to think of a way I could explain it. “A warrior for the council I guess. He was supposed to make sure that everyone followed the law and find those who didn’t and stop them or bring them to justice.”

“So he was supposed to punish them?”

“Not exactly. He was supposed to stop them from doing whatever it was they were doing and bring them to a… uh, a group that decided punishments. A judge usually.” Forgh nodded understanding. “He would always be harping about the fact that I was too big and the things I should do about it. Maybe I should have, I don’t know. Sometimes I’d try, but it was really hard for some reason I guess. Instead of getting smaller I either stayed the same or got bigger.” This time it was my turn to look out at the horizon as I remembered some of the stuff that had been done in the name of ‘helping’ me. It wasn’t a very pretty memory. “He’d get angrier and angrier, almost as though I was mocking him or something for being fat. In addition to his lousy son, was his job. He wasn’t very important, like your sire was, in his position. He always tried to move up, but it didn’t always work that way. When I found out when the promotion list was posted, that’s what told who had gotten moved up, I’d generally find an excuse to be almost anywhere else. That seemed to work for awhile. If I was home, he might cuff me a couple of times and I’d cry out or something and that seemed to satisfy him.”

“Mine was just the opposite. Crying out only seemed to make it worse. I suppose they were each after different ends though.”

“I guess. I think mine figured if I didn’t let him know it hurt, I was defying him or something. Anyway, that went on for awhile. It wasn’t too bad. Not as bad as I might experience at school.”

“Did your school train warriors too then?”

“It didn’t mean to. It happens every now and again. Most of the time my size prevented the worse stuff and I learned where to avoid. I also became pretty good at telling jokes and things like that which took a lot of pressure off. It was considered bad luck to kill the class clown. Anyway, my father didn’t really do the beating thing in the beginning. He’d spend hours telling me that I was a failure and what a rotten person I was. How I couldn’t do anything right and stuff like that. He'd go on and on and on. No one wanted to be around me, no one cared about me, I just took up space. It got to the point where every day I’d stay out later and later trying to avoid him. Sometimes it worked and other times he’d tear me a new one for being a failure and being out past curfew. His drinking got worse and that’s when the beatings started to get more often.”

“Ale and mead?” Forgh asked.

“Yeah and other stuff that was stronger.”

He nodded. “A few ogres end up that way. They normally don’t last real long on the northern plains though. It generally gets rid of those like that.”

“I have to admit, some of the stuff he probably saw, it’s a wonder he was ever sober. I’d read stuff in the tabloids and couldn’t believe what people’d do to each other. I’m not excusing it, but I guess he had his reasons or so he thought. Anyway, as his drinking got worse, so did the beatings. I guess I could have gone to the police, but he was one of them and I didn’t know what would happen. My mum couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t above slapping her around either and she finally left one day. Can’t say I blame her for that at all. It just made him worse though and one day he simply through me through the front door of the flat because he thought I had money that I didn’t and wouldn’t give it to him so he could go down to the pub. I thought about doing a Midnight Walk with a train…”

Forgh looked at me in confusion. “What’s a midnight walk and what’s a train?”

“A Midnight Walk is when a Lost Boy… well, for whatever reason, does himself in. Kills himself. A train is like a huge cart that goes really fast and is hard to stop. If you were to step out in front of one, it would kill you. That’s what I was going to do. It seemed like a better thing than just living on the streets or waiting for him to kill me himself or whatever was going to happen.”

“Ogres can’t kill themselves. Dwarlyan would curse one’s spirit who would do such a thing.”

“We’re not supposed to either for similar reasons. I don’t know whether I would have or not anyway. I’d probably scare myself to death before I’d have stepped in front of a train to do it.” A quick grin crossed my face. “Ask any Lost Boy and they’ll tell you who the most cowardly Lost Boy is.” He gave me a look. “Well, okay, maybe the least brave one,” I grudgingly admitted. “Anyway, before I got to where I’d be able to step in front of a train, Peter ‘discovered’ me and took me away from there to here. So instead of the passengers ending up being late to Manchester, I ended up becoming a Lost Boy.”

“Do you like being a Lost Boy?” he finally asked.

“Yup,” I answered without even having to think about it. I’ve got friends who care and who help each other out. It makes all the difference. It’s funny. I’ve probably gone through more pain and suffering and been closer to being collected by the Reaper here than I ever did in the ‘real’ world, but it doesn’t seem nearly as bad for some reason.” I struggled to put it into words. “It’s like here you expect to have orcs and pirates try to kill and maim you and it kind of makes sense in a twisted sort of way I guess. But in the ‘real’ world that stuff shouldn’t happen. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. It’s just wrong. Plus the bad stuff is overshadowed by all the good stuff that happens here, and there’s tons of it. When I’m battling or exploring or simply pondering, I know that there are a bunch of guys who are with me and that they’d do whatever they could to help me and that I’d do the same for them.”

“Then tell me something.”

That caused a red flag to go up in my mind. I always knew when someone said something like that, it was going to be something I didn’t really want to tell them or it would be a ‘difficult’ answer to give. The same type of thing that occurs when someone walks up to you and says, ‘We have to talk.” You knew whatever followed wasn’t going to be at all good. “Yeah, what?” I replied quietly.

“If this is such a good place, and I think it is by the expression on your face when you talked about it and what I’ve seen the time I’ve been here, then how come you say you don’t fit in? Why do you feel that way?”

I sighed as my instincts were proved correct. “It’s sort of hard to explain, I guess. It’s nothing that anyone has done or anything I’ve had happen to me. It’s just like some sort of disconnection I guess. Almost as though I don’t deserve to be here. No, that’s not right. It’s sort of a feeling that maybe I should do something differently. Maybe I’m to eager or something, at least if it doesn’t involve getting smeared,” I tried a laugh. “It’s not that I’m paranoid about being here, it’s more like I just think about it too much I guess. Like rather than simply accept it and enjoy it, I’m always just a tiny bit worried about things somehow. I dunno, it's probably just me. I reckon if I don’t quite fit in here on the island, it’s a lot better than not coming close to fitting in, in the ‘real’ world.

He nodded an acknowledgement and stood up. “Enough talk wolf boy. It’s time to do something else. As long as you’re big and I’m small, than I should show you how to play ‘quarf’. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat me at that, but you might surprise me.”

I stood up from the rock I’d been sitting on and followed towards the orchard.

As I walked back to Hangman’s Tree, the rain settled down into a misting drizzle with the sun threatening to break through at any time, but not quite keeping its promise to do so.  I pondered on what Forgh had told me.  A lot of it made sense, but there was part of it I still wasn’t real sure about.  I had tried it a couple of times in the past to do what he wanted, only to have the person suddenly vanish without warning.  I know I should have been used to it, but when it happened with Roo I guess I figured I should stop depending on anyone else.  Up to now it had seemed to work well enough to get by with.  I didn’t really think I had that many issues that I needed to discuss with anyone.  I pondered on that the rest of the day while I wandered the island pretending to explore.

I got back to Hangman’s Tree as the day started to darken to twilight.  I went to get stew only to discover that this time there was chicken instead.  That came as a bit of a shock.  The fact it tasted fantastic was even more of one.  I asked Ursa, who had done the cooking this day, where Stumble had gotten to.

“He’s up in the tree.  Something is bugging him big time but he won’t tell any of us what it is.  He just says he wants to be alone for awhile.”

Whenever that comes about, I always worry about a Midnight Walk getting ready to occur.  I looked at what was left of the chicken and then climbed up out the trapdoor and into the branches of the tree.  I found Stumble about halfway up sitting on a branch with his head in his hands.

“Yo, Cub.  Guess they told you I was up here, eh?”

“Yeah.  What’s up?”

“Nothing really.  I just been thinking about stuff.  This and that.  Reason for being.  Being a Lost Boy.”

I looked at him closely.  “You want to share what’s going on?”

He thought about it for a moment.  “No.  Not yet.  I still want to think about it.  I’m not unhappy or anything, I just wonder sometimes about stuff.”  He looked across the forest canopy and then turned and gave me a grin.  “Don’t worry you goofball.  I know what you’re thinking.  You have my word that I’m not going to wander into the ocean.  It’s nothing like that.  When I’m ready to tell you I’ll come tell you.  Okay?”

“Deal.”  I waited for another minute or so and then climbed back down branches and trapdoor.  You could normally tell when someone was going to do a Midnight Walk and Stumble definitely didn’t look like he was contemplating it.  I’d been wrong before, but not this far wrong.  I walked back into the common room to discover that there was no chicken left.

The rest of the evening was spent playing cards with Surefoot (and getting smeared) and listening to Tigger spin a yarn about the time he had rescued a mermaid from a band of pirates.  Normally I’d have been a bit skeptical, but Leo swore it was true and he normally doesn’t exaggerate.  I went to my hammock as the witching hour approached.

I still wasn’t sure about the hammock.  In some ways it was more comfortable, but I liked being under the table because it felt like a more secure place.  Plus it’s a lot easier to snuggle up against a wall than it is a mesh surface.

It felt like I spent most of the night tossing and turning and didn’t wake up until the sun had been up for awhile.  When I saw how late it was, I groaned and ran as fast as I could to the cave where Forgh was at.  He was waiting when I got there and mage a couple of jokes about sleeping in and laziness.  I was just relieved that he hadn’t thought I’d abandoned him or something since it was several hours later than when I usually got there.

“I did some thinking yesterday about a lot of stuff,” he told me.  “I guess I can trust you .  I mean I don’t know who you’d tell if you wanted to anyway.  It’s just that I guess I’m not used to this, but I feel the need to tell someone.  I’m not sure why, but I just do.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything as it didn’t look as though he wanted an answer as much as a reassurance.  It seemed to satisfy him.  He said he wanted to go to a section of the island where the rocks met the water and he could hear the waves.  I was familiar with it, but didn’t go there a lot.  None of us Lost Boys did for some reason.  I followed him there and we walked around until he found a suitable spot.  We both chose good ‘sitting’ rocks and then he began his tale.

“Where I come from, my sire is the head of the tribal council.  It’s an important position and he tends to make a big deal out of it.  You become the head by being chosen by most of the people in the village.  He’s the first sire who’s had the position for almost forty splits.”  He saw my puzzled expression and explained, “a split is when it gets colder and warmer.  There are two splits to a cycle so it’d be twenty cycles.  Anyway he makes a big deal out of it and he used to tell me all the time that he expected me to become the head of the tribal council when I became of age.  The problem is, in order to do that, one has to be a great warrior.  Something my sire definitely is, something I am definitely not.  You’ve probably noticed, but I’m scrawny for an ogre.”

“What?  Naw, go on.  Seriously?  You’re small?  But you’re twice as big as me and, well… I’m not anywhere near, you know, small or anything.”

He gave a solemn nod.  “Yes, an ogre my age should be four or five stone heavier and taller.  My sire says that he was cursed with a runt and that somehow he must have offended Dwarlyan.  I trained to be a scout which doesn’t usually involve as much fighting as being a warrior does.  He simply said it meant that I was craven.  I was hoping maybe I could somehow obtain his approval by trying harder when I fought.  Even if I did not always win, I hoped that the fact that I always tried would mean something to him.  If I had chosen not to fight, he would not have been able to complain of my decision not to.  By choosing to fight, though, I have sort of given him permission to criticize me.”

“So what are these battles?  Are they real or what?”

“They are the way we train.  We are taught by those who are experienced but who no longer are active.  When we are considered trained in one technique, we fight each other to test ourselves.  It is not usually to the death, although that has happened in the past by ‘accident’.”

“And you don’t have to do that, if you don’t want?”

He sighed.  “Supposedly any path is open to any ogre.  We have the right to choose what we want to do.  At one time all ogres were told what they would do as they grew older.  That was the time that the sires predominated.  During that time there was a great war between ogres because of some slight that supposedly occurred between two groups and many sires were killed.  There were not enough sires left to defend us from outsiders, so dams took up spear and shield as well as becoming council members.  One of their decisions, our history says, was to allow all ogres, sire or dam, to become what they wanted to as long as there were sufficient numbers to defend against invaders.”

“So why did you have to become a scout then?”

“My sire let it be known that this was what he was eager to have me become a warrior and that it would be gravely disappointing if I didn’t.  I knew I could never battle with the bigger ones, so I thought becoming a scout might show him that I was trying to follow the course he wanted me to.”  Forgh looked down.  “I know I have been a disappointment to him and wanted to do something that would cause him to be proud of me.  Yet even in this I failed.”

I hesitated to ask this next part, but felt I needed to for some reason.  “Forgh, did he do that to you, or was it from the practice?”

He nodded again and stared out at the horizon.  A gull screamed at something and Forgh started speaking again.  “He did it to me because he said I wasn’t worthy to be his.  He said I’d never bring honor to his name and that he wished I would simply not exist.  I tried to tell him that I was doing my best, but it just made him furious and he beat me.  After he did it the first time, it became a regular thing whenever he was upset over something.  It didn’t matter what it was or anything, if I was around, I’d end up being the blame for it.”

“Couldn’t anyone help you?  Isn’t there anyone you could have gone to for help?”

“My father’s position made that sort of difficult.  Normally I could have gone to the council and told them about it and they’d have taken care of it.  I should have even been able to tell another sire or dam about it and gotten help. There are a lot of politics involved though.  I had a friend who’s sire had always been kind to me and I thought I could depend on him.  But when I tried to tell him what was going on, he wouldn’t listen.  Said he couldn’t do anything and stopped Rowel from being my friend anymore.  I knew then that I could only depend on myself and that I was going to have to take care of the problem myself.”

“So then what happened?”

Forgh’s eyes were brimming and he gave something that sounded like a hiccup.  He sniffed a couple of times and then started speaking again.  “It went on that way for a couple of splits.  Then one day he got furious and twisted my arm so badly I thought it was going to break.  I ran and ended up at the grove, where I made the wish and ended up here and saw you.  After I was here for a day, I figured maybe he had cooled off or something, so I went back.  I don’t think he even noticed I had been gone.  Things seemed to be okay for awhile and then he beat me again and I used the portal once more.  I stayed longer that time, but again felt I had to go back.  It’s like I was being called or something.  That time he had noticed I had been gone.  He demanded to know where I had gone, but I wouldn’t tell him.  I’ll never tell him anything again.  That’s when he beat me so bad that I couldn’t hardly think.  He just kept getting angrier and angrier.”  He looked pleadingly at me.  “I couldn’t tell him.  I just couldn’t it.  Do you see that?”  I nodded at him.  “I finally got away from him because he was called to a council meeting due to some emergency that was going on.  As soon as he left I took off.  It took me forever to get to the grove.  I made sure that no one could follow my trail, and I continued losing memory as I headed towards it, but I eventually made it and came through the portal.  I will never go back.  That’s when I asked you for help.  I had never done that before.  My sire always said it was a sign of failure and cowardice to ask for help, but I think he was wrong.  I think you’re craven if you never ask for help.”

I didn’t say anything to that, because it hit a bit close to home.  “So what are you going to do now?  You can stay here if you want.  It sounds like you’d definitely be a Lost Boy too if you wanted or I think there are ogres who live in the North Wood.  Least that’s what Ember says.”

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet,” he said wearily.  “I won’t go back.  I will probably stay here until I heal completely.  That’s okay isn’t it?”

“Yeah.  No one uses this place much.  Like I said, Stumble is usually the only one who does and it’s been ages since he did.  You can stay as long as you’d like.  You could come to the tree too, ya know.  You wouldn’t be as lonely and the rest of the boys wouldn’t care, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, but for now I think I will remain here.  I’m sure your friends are good like you, but I think for now I’d rather be alone and think about what it is I have to do and accomplish.  I may go visit these ogres you talk about and see if they would have an outcast like me.”

“Outcast?  You’re no outcast.  It’s not your fault what happened.  You did everything you could have.  A lot more than I bet most would have done.  It isn’t as though your village or tribe told you to go away either.”  I stopped before I started yelling about what an idiot his father was to treat him that way.  I figured he probably already knew that and didn’t need me to let him know I knew.  There was one thing that puzzled me though, especially after the way he had acted the other day.  “Do you…” I wanted to say love, but wasn’t sure if that was what it would be under normal circumstances.  I finally figured that the magic would probably translate it correctly and went with it.  “Do you love your sire?

He sat there for a moment, piling rocks on driftwood and seemed to be a million miles away as he spoke.  “This is sort of a cairn we use on the plains.  It means either end of trail or beginning of trail.  Three rocks on top of one another, smaller in size.  That’s the first thing they taught us about being a scout.  How to read the signs that others leave.  It’s supposed to be different for each tribe.”  He snapped back to where we were,  “Yes, I suppose I do.  It’s my duty to, isn’t it?”

I didn’t reply but simply sat there throwing stones in the water and listening to the cry of more gulls who had come to see if we had brought anything they could scavenge.  A small crab scuttled by my feet and I absently noticed a gash I had picked up on one of the pelt’s paws.  Another mending job.  I didn’t know what to say to Forgh.  It was hard to tell if he actually wanted me to say anything, for that matter.  I knew some of the other Lost Boys simply needed to talk and didn’t want to hear anything I said except for the occasional agreement or grunt letting them know that someone was listening to their story.  That someone felt it was worth the time to hear them out as well as let them get out what was inside them.  I looked up to see Forgh staring back at me curiously.  At first I thought I had done something wrong but discovered that it was something else when he opened his mouth.

“That’s my story, Cubby.  What’s yours?”

The next morning it was threatening rain and a strong wind was whipping stuff everywhere. I tried sneaking some more stew, but caught by Tig who insisted on broadcasting the news to all the Lost Boys who were still left in the tree. I was sure by the time I left, my reputation was ruined because everyone figured I simply loved Stumble’s stew now. Even trying to explain it away as needed for a practical joke didn’t work. By the time I got to the cave, I was soaked, because of the puddles that had formed from last night’s rain and were just begging to be stomped through. I wandered into the cave to find Forgh using stones to play marbles with. He was pretty good at it. It kept surprising me all the stuff that ogres did that I’d never thought about. A couple of weeks ago if someone had told me that they read, played marbles and palyed tag I’d have said they were crazed.

He looked up as I came in. “You really did come back, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged it off. “No reason I guess. I just wasn’t… I don’t know.” He opened his mouth as if to say something else then closed it. His eyes lit up when he saw the stew and waybread. “Thanks! I can’t believe you brought more waybread.”

I couldn’t believe it either, but for an entirely different reason altogether. I watched as he ate it in record time. He let out a burp that shook the entire cave and then sighed. “That was great. Apples are okay, but they get a little old after awhile. Thanks. I have to go check the portal. You want to come with me?”

“Portal?”

“Yeah, the place where the wish came through. I guess I don’t need to check it, but I probably should.”

I shrugged and agreed. It’d be nice to get out into the wild weather that had been brewing. I followed him out into a world full of blowing leaves and flying twigs. There was a sudden flash and a few moments later thunder rumbled away towards the north. “Looks like our first big storm of the season,” I said, taking a deep breath of the air that smelled of coming rain and a whisper of excitement.

“We hardly ever get thunderstorms. It’s normally too cold for them I guess. We’ve gotten some lightning when it snowed before. That can be really cool at night when it reflects off the snow that’s falling. I could watch it forever.” He mentioned a few more things about living where he did while we hiked to the orchard. He walked over to an old ramshackle outbuilding that was about a 100 yards from where the farmhouse stood. “Yup, it’s still there. Good.”

“I looked at the doorway, but didn’t see anything except the back of the shed. “How can you tell? I don’t see anything at all.”

“Look down towards the bottom of the doorway and concentrate right behind it. See the floor right there?”

“Yeah, it almost looks like it’s shimmering or something. I couldn’t see it before.”

“That’s the portal thing. You have to really concentrate to notice it.”

“Aren’t you worried that some animal or something will walk through it and get sent to where you’re from?” I had a vision of spiders or raccoons or squirrels suddenly appearing in the snow near Forgh’s village.

“Nope. Walk through it.”

“No way. I’m happy here. I mean I’m sure it’s okay where you’re from and everything, but I probably wouldn’t fit in there any better than I do here.”

He gave me a curious look and then said, “It’s okay. Walk on through. Nothing’ll happen. I promise.”

I walked through the door and felt a slight tingling and gasped as I figured I was getting ready to be transported to wherever, but nothing happened and I almost walked into the wall of the back of the shed. I turned and looked at him. He laughed at the surprise on my face. “I’m the only person that it’ll work for, since I made the wish. I can give someone else permission to use it if I want, but it still only works three times.”

We wandered and ended up at the cliffs overlooking the sea. The rain hadn’t hit yet, but the waves below crashed angrily on the rocks and the sea was full of whitecaps. I sat on the edge and threw stones into the sea. Forgh did a bit of looking around, found a rather large stick and began whittling on it with a dagger he seemed to produce out of thin air. After a moment he asked, “Seriously. Why did you help me? Why do you even care about me? You don’t know me at all.”

I sat there for a moment marshalling my thoughts and listening to him whittle on the wood. There were a bunch of different answers I could give. Ones that would probably make more sense than others. Ones that might make him feel better or might make him feel worse. In the end I just sighed and didn’t think about what to say, but let my thoughts tumble out of my mouth. “When I first came to the island, I was scared to death and didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t surprised to be kicked out of the flat, but sure hadn’t expected to end up on the island. I hadn’t had any friends in the real world and figured this would be the same way. But it wasn’t. There was this kid who used to wear a kangaroo skin, so naturally we called him Roo. He listened to all of us. Let us spill our problems to him and never let anyone else know what we’d told him. He’d ask you a question or two and suddenly everything would become clearer and things would look better.”

“What happened to him? He didn’t… you know.”

“Naw, he’s still alive but he’s in the real world now by his own choice.” I didn’t feel like confusing the issue and going into how he’d ended up back in the real world or why. “Roo helped every Lost Boy on the island. He patched us up and helped us get through the night when we needed it. He’d tell you what an idiot you were for doing something and in the next breath give you the justification for it. I don’t think I’ve ever had a closer friend than he was.” I paused for a moment, wondering why I was telling all this to Forgh as well as realizing how much I missed Roo. “Anyway, a few times I’d sort of ‘make’ Roo tell me his problems. Not as often as I should have and I probably wasn’t able to help him as much as he helped us, but I guess I did good enough so that when he left, he charged me with taking his place. I don’t know how well I’ve done, but it’s something I take a little pride in, I guess. I have the need to help for some reason.”

He whittled some more. “Yeah, but that still doesn’t explain me. I’m not Lost Boy. I’m an ogre. There ain’t nothing human about me at all. So why help someone you figured was going to eat you up?”

I pondered that for a moment and then shrugged. “Ask any Lost Boy and they’ll tell you we’re all just a bit less than human. I helped you cuz you looked like you needed help. It’s no big deal. I didn’t want you to owe me anything or think you were in my debt. I just did it because it was the right thing to do. Besides it sounds as though you’re just as lost as the rest of us are at the moment.”

“So why’d you say you don’t fit in anywhere?” I tried to turn it into a joke about my size, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Nope. I know what you meant. Give.”

“It’s hard to explain. I don’t feel that way all the time, just some of the time. I mean they’re all my best friends, heck for the most part they’re my only friends. I’d die a thousand times over for one of them and I know that they’d do the same for me. But it’s like sometimes I’ll hear them talking in the common room and I’ll go in one door simply to see them go out the other door. Or I’ll jump in the Little Bear River just as they’ve finished swimming and getting out on the other bank. I know inside that it doesn’t mean anything, but sometimes it just…” I was at a loss as to what it just, so I shut my mouth.

“So now you just listen to everyone’s problems and don’t share any of your own and just let it build up inside. Right?”

“Naw, it’s not like that. Really. It’s not nearly as bad as you make it sound. I tell people stuff sometimes.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“How about you?” I asked. “Who do you tell stuff to when you need to?”

He laughed. “No fair using my own tactics against me, Wolf.” He turned serious. “There actually isn’t anyone I’d dare tell. Either they’d tell my sire to make points or they’d try to kill him and either succeed or fail and die. I couldn’t live with either one.”

“So tell me if you want. You’re not going back and I’m not going there. I might get really pissed, but won’t be trying to kill anyone over it. I tend to listen pretty good even if I am accused of falling asleep sometimes.”

He whittled some more. “I’ll tell you what. If I decide to tell you my story, than you have to pledge to let me help you in return. I’ll lend my support to you in return for your lending of support to me. It’s what friends should do for each other.”

That surprised me a bit. I was ready to make some sort of flippant remark, but looked up in time to see how seriously he was taking this. “Okay,” I said hesitantly. Then with more force, “It’s a deal. I agree.”

He nodded. “Good. Let me think on it today and then tomorrow I will let you know if I can tell my tale to you. It’s not because I would think that you weren’t good enough to hear it or something like that, but simply because it is hard to tell and just because. Regardless, I will consider you a friend for the aid you have given me thus far and hope you will consider the same of me.”

“Of course.” I said simply.

“Thank you.” He looked up as a few dozen fat drops fell from the sky. He laughed, “Now being an ogre, I do know enough to get out of the rain when it falls. Can the same be said for Lost Boys?” He got up and flew from the cliffs towards the cave. “See you on the morrow,” he threw over his shoulder as he vanished into the trees.

I sighed, got up, and wandered through the forest. I could sort of relate to what he felt, but the label crazy wouldn’t have bothered me concerning my pater at all. I didn’t have any particular destination in mind and simply let my feet carry me where they would. Apparently my feet were better at finding things than my brain was, because I heard a crashing sound in front of me and looked up to see Forgh walking at a quick pace in front of me. At least he wasn’t headed towards the orchard and the portal to home. I wasn’t sure why, but it seemed important that he not head home yet.

Forgh was muttering something to himself as he wandered along. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but he didn’t appear to be very happy at all. I had a sudden thought and wondered if it would get me killed or simply severely maimed instead. I decided it didn’t really matter and began sprinting after him. I had gotten to within about a hundred feet of him when he must have heard me and whirled around. I was moving too fast to tell if the look on his face was anger or relief and didn’t have a lot of time to ponder it before I was moving next to him. As I ran past, I poked his arm and yelled at the top of my lungs that he was ‘it’.

There was a grunt of surprise, at least I hope it was surprise, and than a crashing started following quickly behind me. I flew through the woods, dodging trees and leaping over creeks. I zigged and zagged but the crashing sound stayed right behind me. There was a bellow behind me and I started moving faster than I thought was possible.

I reached the bank of the Great Bear River suddenly, and without thinking I took hung a right. I knew the footsteps following me were getting closer and closer. I chanced a quick look behind me to see how close he was, but only caught a glimpse of the passing countryside. I turned my eyes back forward in time to see the trunk of a tree that had suddenly grown in my path approaching at a very high rate of speed. I hit the trunk hard enough that I actually bounced back a couple of feet and fell flat on my back amid a shower of pine cones, needles and branches.

As I slowly came to life, I realized that my vision hadn’t gone dim, but was the result of Forgh standing above me and blocking out quite a bit of the sky. The bellowing was still there, but as I started seeing single images once again discovered it was simply ogre laughter.

“Oh goddess, that was crazy. Dude, are you alright? I swear I saw the trunk of that tree bend when you creamed it.”

I lay there slowly shaking my head to see if anything inside rattled and wondering if I’d really just been called ‘dude’ by an ogre.

He finally managed to stifle his laughter, although a foghorn like chuckle escaped his lips on a regular basis. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing. That must have really hurt.”

“It’s okay, I’m sort of used to things like this happening. I’d probably be laughing too if I could move my face. Kidding. I’m just kidding,” I added as an expression of concern appeared on his face.

“That was awesome. It’s been forever since I played tag. It used to be my favourite game. I don’t think you’re supposed to run into trees, though.”

“Yeah, well you’re not supposed to be able to run that fast,” I retorted, “or that long.”

“Ha. Ogres can run forever if we need to. We can’t run too fast though. Maybe you just run too slow,” he said with a grin. “You ready to get up yet?” He held out a hand.

“Sure. At least I think so.” I grabbed his hand and was suddenly yanked to a standing position so fast my head swam. I double checked that my arm was still correctly attached to my body.

He looked down at the ground. “Look, I didn’t mean to… you know. I mean, it’s just that, I don’t know.”

“No worries, I sort of know what it’s like. You don’t have to explain anything or apologize to me about it. Been there, done that.”

He gave me another grin. “Cool. Thanks.”

“Whatcha going to do now?”

He started walking, deep in thought. I followed him as he walked along the bank of the Great Bear. “I hadn’t really thought about it, I guess,” he finally admitted. “I just had to get away. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just made the wish and took off. I had no idea where I’d end up or anything like that. All I know is that I never, ever, want to go back there again. Ever!”

I was silent as we continued tramping along. I knew what he felt and there wasn’t anything I could add to what he’d said. “Do you have a bed or someplace to sleep?” I finally asked.

“Usually under a tree or something like that. It works out pretty well.”

“Unless it rains, like it smells like it’s going to do soon. I know of an empty cave you could use. It doesn’t have anything really in it, but it’ll keep you dry.”

“That’d be cool. Thanks.”

I led him to the cave where Stumble sometimes practiced his culinary skills. Much to the disappointment of my tummy but the relief of the wolf pelt, he hadn’t been practicing them of late. He looked around the cave. “This is perfect. Uh, does anyone ever come here for anything?”

“Naw. Stumble, he’s another Lost Boy, comes around sometimes, but he hasn’t been here lately and I’d know if he were going to come back for any reason before he did. The only other thing that might be here is a stray mouse or something like that.”

“Yum. I could go for a few of those right now.”

I had a random thought of trying to digest cold mouse and hurriedly shoved it aside. Mousse sounded much better than mouse. “I can probably get you some stew if you want and maybe some waybread too.”

“What’s waybread?”

“Elves make it for when they travel. It’s supposed to be really filling and only a little bit will keep you fed forever.”

Oh, you mean those pointy eared, snotty ones?”

“Yeaaaaah,” I said slowly, trying not to laugh.

“I love that stuff,” he exclaimed. “That would be totally awesome to get some of that. Do you think you could?”

I told him I’d see what I could do and headed off towards Hangman’s Tree while Forgh continued exploring the cave. By the time I returned with the stew and the waybread, which caused more than a few looks of confusion among the other boys and a grin from Stumble that someone was actually asking for more stew, the shadows were beginning to lengthen into evening. A few drops of rain had started to fall.

Forgh was sitting against a wall of the cave reading what looked like a scroll of some sort. “I didn’t know ogres could read,” I blurted out.

“Bet you never asked one if they could, did you? It’s not real hard to do. In fact you might even be able to learn how if you tried.” He grinned to let me know he was telling a joke.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s magic. It tells stories that were never written.” I wanted to ask more, but he suddenly sniffed the air. “Is that stew I smell?” I nodded and handed him the stew and the waybread. Once more he ate like he hadn’t seen food in a few months and I watched in amazement as he devoured both stew and bread within minutes. “That was really good, especially the bread. Thanks.”

Outside the wind had started to pick up as the sun slowly slid down behind the trees. The smell of rain was stronger and I figured there would be plenty of puddles to splash through by the time daybreak came. “I guess I’d better take off,” I said. “I’m sort of hungry and it looks like it’s going to pour soon.”

He looked up at me solemnly. “Thanks, Cubby. It’s good to find a friend here.”

“No worries. I like making friends too. I’m glad you wandered in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’ll be back, right?” he asked, sounding very anxious all of a sudden. “I mean you just won’t vanish and never come back again.”

“Of course not,” I said “Why would I do that? Why would anyone do that to someone who was a friend?”

“Just checking,” he said with a sigh of relief. “See ya tomorrow.”

I left the cave and wandered back to the Tree as it started to pour. I slowly walked through the deluge, being careful to splash in each mud puddle I came to. I hoped that Forgh wouldn’t vanish during the night.

I looked at Forgh sitting there as his crying slowed to a few hiccupping gasps.  He wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of dirt on his cheek.  I didn’t know what to say.  “But, why…” I started and then hesitated because it really didn’t matter why.  ‘Why’ hadn’t really entered into it when I’d gotten beaten and it was the last thing on my mind that afternoon I was shown how flimsy the front doors on council housing could be.  Unfortunately as that thought chased itself through my skull, I simply sat there for a moment.

 

“Yeah, I should have figured you wouldn’t understand.  No one really cares, I learned that awhile ago.  Why should you be any different?”  He surged to his feet in a single fluid motion and took off for the woods once again.  There was no way I was going to go through that again and as he started up I sprung from my sitting position and managed to grab his left leg.  I might as well have tried to stop a lorry.

 

Ogres are reputed to make donkeys look indecisive.  Supposedly when an ogre makes up his mind to do something, no force in nature can change its mind.  I should have remembered that.  My not inconsiderable weight on Forgh’s left leg didn’t do a thing.  At least it didn’t do a thing to him.  I was treated to a very close and personal look at thistle bushes, innumerable rocks and stones, small saplings, pine cones with very sharp points, some blackberry bushes, a rose bush that shouldn’t even have existed, and numerous other items that create punctures, lacerations, rips and tears.  I got dirt in my hair, mouth and ears as well as the wolf pelt itself.

 

“Stoppppp, I want to talk to you,” I tried yelling through a wad of dirt.

 

“Let go, let go, let go.  Go away.  You’re like everyone else.”  He ran through a mud puddle in the trail and I got instantly soaked and could no longer breathe through my nose.

 

“Forgh, please.  I kno… OUCH!” as he managed to step on my right arm with his right foot.  “C’mon.  Please.  Just listen.”

 

“No.  I don’t want to listen.  Go away.”

 

I tried digging my feet in to see if that would slow him down any and promptly lost the right ‘paw’ of the wolf pelt along with a toenail or two on that foot.  “Where are we going?” I managed to gasp out loud enough for him to hear me.

 

“Away.  As far away as I can go.”

 

“This… is… it.  You. Can’t. Go. Any. Further.”

 

It felt as though the running feet slowed down a little, but that could have been wishful thinking as well.  There was a snort from above.  “I can go a lot further.”  The running was definitely getting more tentative though.

 

“Will you please stop just a minute?  I can’t hang on anymore and I feel sort of dizzy.”

 

He came to a stop and I let go of his ankle, figuring he’d take off again.  Instead he just stood there looking down at me.  I rolled over on my back and looked up at him, squinting because of the sun that was behind his head.  I couldn’t tell what expression he was wearing or anything, just that it looked as though he were looking down at me.  “Why did you do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Why’d you try and stop me like that?  Why didn’t you just let me go?”

 

“Because I care.  Because I know what it’s like to think no one else gives a damn about what’s happening in your life and even if they did you’re afraid to tell anyone.”

 

“How would you know?  You look like the thing that you care about most is where your next meal is coming from.”

 

I made a mental note to myself to find out if the wolf pelt really was getting tighter and it wasn’t simply my imagination after all.  “All Lost Boys know what that’s like.  It’s what makes us Lost Boys.  When no one even cares enough to leave the bedroom window open for us to get back, then it’s not hard to figure out no one cares at all.”  I’d have loved to know what ‘leave the bedroom window open’ translated out as, but he let out a sigh that probably caused the trees around us to bend and plunked down next to me.

 

“What’s a Lost Boy anyway?  Can’t you find your way back?  Is there more than just you?  Is there a whole tribe?”

 

I briefly explained what Lost Boys were and what bound us all together.  As I was explaining it, I had a sudden thought.  “How’d you get here anyway?  You’re not from the island are you?”

 

He shook his head.  “There’s this grove where I live.  They call it the Snow Bear’s Lair.  All the trees are perfectly straight and reach to the clouds.  If you stand in the middle of them in just the right spot, you can wish yourself to another place.  I wished myself ‘somewhere’ else and this is where I ended up at.”

 

“Wow.  Can you get back if you want to?”

 

“Yeah, you know that place where all the funny trees are?  There’s this shack there and if I go through the door backwards and say the words of power than it will take me back.  It stays open for three trips back and forth.  This is my third one.”  He hesitated a moment.  “I’m not going back again.  Ever.  No one can make me.”

 

I wondered why magic always seemed to come in threes and filed that away as well for future pondering.  “Oh.  I thought for a moment you were supposed to become a Lost Boy like us.”

 

He shook his head.  “I’m sure your friends are great and all that but I just… I hate crowds now.”

 

At first I didn’t see how us Lost Boys could be considered a ‘crowd’.  Then I thought about those times when the twins were busy seeing who could yell the loudest while Cat was busy managing to dump water on someone’s head, Surefoot taking archery practice in the common room, Stumble yelling about the complaints over his stew, me arm wrestling Ursa and suddenly realized we could probably be considered a riot, much less a crowd.  “That’s cool.  Normally Lost Boys have Peter come bring them to Neverland anyway.  I don’t know that anyone who has ever made a wish to be here, did.”  I rolled over, feeling a dozen new cuts and abrasions add to the current symphony going on, and managed to sit up.  I hesitated a moment, remembering that the cardinal rule for us Lost Boys was never to ask about a past, but to let whoever tell it to you if they wanted to.  But Forgh wasn’t a Lost Boy and I just had a feeling… “Did he beat you often?”

 

“He didn’t used to at all.  But that’s all he seems to do now.  No matter what I do, try to do, or accomplish he thinks I’m a coward.  A disgrace to him and our tribe.  Maybe he’s right, I don’t know.”

 

:”A coward?  After becoming friends with a Great Northern Dragon, he thinks you’re a coward?  Forgh, he must be crazy to think that...”  I didn’t get any farther.  When I mentioned his father must be crazy, he surged to his feet again, fist doubled and screaming loud enough it left my ears ringing.

 

“Don’t you dare call him crazy.  What do you know?  He’s worth a whole lot more than a pack of stupid Lost Boys.”  Predictably he turned tail and flew.  I just sat there and watched him disappear, wondering what it was I was supposed to do.

I woke up the next morning on the ground.  Sometime during my wanderings throughout dreamland I had managed to fall out of the tree without waking up.  Apparently I was now so used to falling out of trees that it wasn’t considered an event my body thought I should be awake for.  I wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  The day was blustery and a bit gloomy with a damp wind whistling through the tree above.  I stood up, stretched, and looked over at where Forgh had been sawing logs.  I was not at all surprised to find that the space was empty.  I stood there trying to figure out what, if anything, I should do and was about ready to head back towards Hangman’s Tree when a voice asking if I was hungry caused me to jump a couple of feet in the air.  I looked back to see Forgh standing there with a large sack.

 

“Uh sure, I could eat something.”  He grinned and said he’d figured that was the case as he opened the sack to reveal about a dozen apples.  We both sat down with our backs against the tree I had recently ‘dismounted’ from.  He shared his apples and I shared the remaining water I had.  “I thought you’d taken off again,” I ventured after a moment.

 

He nodded his head as he finished his second apple.  “I was going to when I saw you on the ground there.  I’d have figured you’d sleep up in the tree or something.”

 

“Or something,” I agreed with a sigh and took a bite of my first apple.  I chewed trying to quickly come up with some subject that I didn’t think would scare him off.  “What’s it like where you’re from?”

 

“In the winter it gets really cold.  There’s like a thousand feet of snow and the wind always blows.  You can practically hear the sap in the trees freeze.  In the summer it snows sometimes, but doesn’t stay nearly as cold.  The wind blows then too.  There are lots of trees to climb and hide in.  There’s also a ton of lakes and streams to swim in.”

 

“Are they like hot springs or something so they’re warm?”

 

He laughed at me.  “Why would you want to swim in warm water?  That just makes you cold when you get out and start shivering.”

 

“Uh, yeah, that makes sense.”

 

“There’s this place where the snow seems to meet the sky and when the Star comes up it makes the whole place shine.  It’s like the best thing you’ve ever seen.  It’s amazing.”  I looked at him as his voice got quicker and quicker.  “Have you ever seen a Great Northern Dragon?”

 

Great Northern Dragons were supposedly the largest species of dragon.  They were also supposed to be the most beautiful species with a colouring ranging from the palest blue to pure white to very light silver.  They also had the reputation of being the nastiest tempered dragons as well.  Even treasure hunters who were sure they had a foolproof way of separating a dragon from its horde would stay clear of a Great Northern.

 

I shook my head no, but he’d already started off.  “I saw a Great Northern Dragon in the bottoms near Roaultland.  No one ever goes there, but I like to wander.  To explore.  To figure stuff out.”

 

I wondered if Roaultland was a town, and island, a country, or something completely unfamiliar.  I didn’t even have a chance to ask because he was off and running again with barely a beat.

 

“I got trapped in snow that had crusted over but wasn’t firm enough to hold me.  I thought I’d never get out.  I kept struggling but nothing happened.  Then this Great Northern showed up.  I thought I was dead.  It was the worst feeling I ever had.  I didn’t know what to do or what was going to happen.  I was scared to death.”  His words came to a full and complete stop and he simply sat there.

 

I looked at him.  He had long, stringy blackish brown hair covering the upper half of his face and not quite concealing his eyes.  They looked at me with an intensity that was almost scary.  I couldn’t tell what it was he was thinking, but whatever it was, it was almost palpable.  “Is that what caused the… you know.”

 

He shook his head and was off like a shot again.  “No.  She was really great.  When she saw me she smiled and asked if I needed help.  I wasn’t sure what to say and all I’d ever heard was how evil these dragons could be and how they’d tear you apart without any reason whatsoever and I couldn’t do anything, so I finally said yes, and she said she’d help me and I couldn’t believe it and she said that was okay that she didn’t think ogre tasted real good anyway, but she smiled so I knew she was making a joke, and I was like that’s pretty cool because I’d never heard anyone say they had a sense of humour and was this some sort of teasing they did, and I got the bruises because my sire beated me, and then the dragon used one of her claws and gently lifted me up and flapped her wings and for a moment I was flying and that was the most incredible feeling and I’ve never done that before and all I could think of is that no one would ever believe me and then I was free and she said that I should be more careful where I explored and then she flew off and I stood there watching her go and…”  The words slowly ran down and he took a shuddering breath and sat there with his head hanging.

 

I looked at him in shock not sure of what I’d heard in the middle of the discourse on the Great Northern.  “You mean, that, I mean your…”

 

He took a huge breath, let it out in another shudder, and then started bawling in great tearing gasps. 

I half carried, half dragged the ogre off of the path and into a thicket.  If something was following the ogre and could make it ask for help, I sure didn’t want to run into it.  I lowered him as gently as gravity and his weight would let me.  The moon was still playing hide and seek among the clouds, so it took me a few minutes to discover that it looked as though someone had given him a pretty good beating.  What looked like bruised stood out on his face and arms, even worse than the ones the other day.  He grimaced and it looked as though there was a gap where a tooth had been earlier.

I grabbed the pack I’d been carrying and pulled some Shepherd’s Rescue out of it, glad that I’d thrown some in the other day.  Fortunately it doesn’t take a lot to be effective, but I still managed to use all of it even though I was using it very sparingly.  His breathing became less labored as the stuff went to work.  There didn’t appear to be anything broken, although his left arm was bothering him a lot.  I wondered if it was a sprain or some kind of fracture I couldn’t feel.  I sat back on my heels and pulled a water skin out of my flask and took a swallow.  I guess ogres must have similar night vision to elves because he caught my movement and asked if he could have some as well.  His voice sounded a bit higher pitched than it had earlier and there was none of the arrogance in it that there had been.  I gave him the skin and watched as he managed to suck it dry in almost an instant.

“Hey…” I suddenly realized I had no idea what his name was.  “Um.  Is there anything I should get ready for?  I mean is something following you that might attack or something?” 

“And you would be able to stop such an attack?”  There was a bit of amusement in the voice, but no teasing.

“Probably not,” I admitted.  “But I could try.  At least I’d know what I was peeing my pants over when it came.”

That brought a weak chuckle.  “No.  Worry not.  I ran away and he can’t follow for only I know where it is.”

I could take that all sorts of different ways, but figured the most important thing was that there wasn’t anything getting ready to suddenly attack.  He groaned as he shifted on the ground, then quieted down once again.  I wished the moon would come out again so I could see what was going on, but it stubbornly stayed hidden, with only very brief flashes between clouds to tease one into thinking moonlight might flood the forest in the next moment.  The ogre’s breath got slow and steady and I figured he had fallen asleep.  I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do now.  There wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t show up at Hangman’s Tree.  We all did it often enough that it was no big deal.  Half the time we played all night and slept most of the day anyway.  Still, I was sort of hungry.  I suppose I could go into the apple orchard and see if there were any apples around.

“My name is Forgh.  I’m a great ogre from Graulm.  What are you?”

I waited until my heart slowed down from the unexpected announcement.  “I’m Cubby.  A Lost Boy.”

“I too am just a boy.  I could not tell if you were boy or an older as it is hard to tell the age of a human.  Is Cubby your true name?”

I hesitated on that one.  Cubby was the truest name I had, but wasn’t considered my ‘birth’ name nor my ‘pack’ name so it probably couldn’t be used against me the way real names can be.  I finally punted.  “My true name is lost so Cubby is the most real of names I know of.”

“It sounds like you only have a single name like me.  Will you ever be a ‘found’ boy?”

“NO!” I said with a lot more vehemence than I had intended.

“So you’re running away too?  No wonder our paths crossed.  Why did you help me?”

“I had to.  It looked like you were in trouble.”

“Someone forces you to help someone in trouble?  How?  Are they here now?”

I decided I’d have to be careful as to how I worded stuff around Forgh.  “No, I mean you asked for help so I wanted to give it to you.  It looked like you were hurt before.”

He ruminated on this for a moment.  “Thank you Cubby.  For helping me.  I need to go to sleep now.  I can take care of myself so there’s no need for you to stay or keep watch.  I have bothered you enough.”

“It’s not a bother,” I started to say.  Before I got through the first couple of words, though, there was a massive rumble from where Forgh was at and it took me a moment to realize he had started snoring.  I had done all I could for him this evening and he had released me.  No one would blame me for taking off.  Besides, he was an ogre.  Nothing could hurt him.  I pondered on that and wondered once again what had torn him up so badly.  Great.  I climbed a nearby pine tree, got myself comfortable in a crook, and semi-dozed with an ear out for… whatever, awaiting the morning.

There was no sign of the ogre for the next couple of weeks and I started to wonder if he’d moved on to somewhere else or gone back to where it was he came from. I debated asking Ember if any of the wolf pack had run across him, but decided that might not be the best idea. In the great scheme of things, it didn’t really seem important if he wandered back or not, but something in the back of my mind kept gnawing at. Something was wrong but I didn’t know what.

Information about ogres seemed to be as scarce as the species themselves. I managed to get over enough of my shyness to ask a dwarven ranger in the Bucking Star I ran across one day if he knew anything about them. At first I got the usual information that I’d already heard and knew a tiny bit about firsthand. The fact they were fierce fighters, didn’t usually mingle with other species, the normal stuff. Then of course there was the question as to why I wanted to know. I told him, waiting for the statement that I was a fool or worse for not fleeing. I was definitely unprepared for what came next.

“So ye woke up and he be staring at ye, eh?” he asked after I told him how I came across the ogre the second time.

“Yeah. He was just standing there, not doing anything and just asked if I was okay.”

The dwarf took a sip of his third triple shot cappuccino. “T’was probly the fact ye didn’t wet yourself or draw steel again’ him that he stay’d round. He be as curious ‘bout ye as ye be ‘bout ‘im perhap. Yet y’ sure ‘e be by himself and nay with any other?”

“Yup. He’s the only one who’s been scented around. The wolves knew he was in the area and are pretty sure he’s the only one.”

“Oh, aye. If another one be ‘round, ‘twould nay be hid from them who roam the wood.” He eyed me, not suspiciously but curiously. “So why ye be so interested in this wee ogre, lad? ‘e be jes’ as likely to kill ye as anything.”

“I dunno. He seems like he’s really sad or something. I’d swear he was crying that first day I saw him and that just seemed…” I shrugged. “I guess you just don’t think of ogres as crying. That and his arm. It looked awful.”

“Ye know could be that ‘e had a run in w’ some land ‘older or farmer o’er a cow or bull. It may be tha’ ‘e left some family wi’out a da or son. Or mayhap a ranger be caught by ‘im at some point.”

I hadn’t thought about that and was suddenly worried. “It just doesn’t seem like that though. Why would he have let me work on his arm before? He could have killed me when I was sleeping too. It’s like he’s upset about something, but it’s not rage or being angry upset. You haven’t heard of a family or ranger being attacked have you?”

He rumbled a chuckle that caused a couple of other people in the shop to look our way. “Nay, lad and would’ve if there be any to ‘ear of. Jest wanted t’ make sure ye knew what be what. That pack o’ boys and ye ever fought any ogres?”

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Who drew first?”

I had to think about that one. We’d never actually been attacked by ogres per se. It was normally a case of us meeting at the same time on some path somewhere, where neither of us would have been expecting the other one and both of us just starting to fight and retreat at the same time. “We sort of both did at once,” I said and explained what I meant.

“Any o’ ye boys ever get killed?”

“Noooo. Plenty of blood, bruises and stuff like that, but no one ever got killed that I can remember.”

The dwarf nodded. “Din’ think so. They be doin’ the same as ye. Tryin’ te get away. If they’d be wantin’ t’ kill ye, not gabbin’ with me would ye nowbe doin’. ‘tis a great store they set in bairns don’t ye know. If they’d realize ye be cubs, ‘twouldn’t be killin’ ye lest some reason ye be givin’ them to. Mos’ of the stories ye be hearin’ of ‘em, be jest that. Stories. They be mean and vicious, but not bloodthirsty as some’d have ye believe.”

“Really? All I ever hear is how awful they are or that they raid farms and kill people just for the fun of it.”

“’tis true they be raidin’ on occasion. Like some who claim t’ be human, elf or dwarf do as well. Yet easier t’ blame them ye know naught about then one ye couldn’t believe be doin’ something like that.”

“So what do you think is going on with this one then?”

He ran a hand down his beard while thinking about it. “’tain’t normal fer sure. ‘is pack should be watchin’ o’er him and helpin’. Why I wanted t’ be sure weren’t any others about. Fo’ some reason ‘e be thinkin’ ye can gi’ him help o’ some kind, it be soundin’ like. Ain’t ‘ardly anything be scaring an ogre ye know. If ye help him, ‘tis likely the ogre be the least o’ your worries lad. Course ye may have spooked ‘im since ‘e ain’t been back fo’ awhile.” He finished his drink and wiped a large hand across his face. “Wha’ever come, ye be careful lad. Ye be a right husky lad, but again’ even a small ogre, ye be no match. And for whatever be that’d scare an ogre, well… jest watch ye self, lad. Ye let me know ‘ow this play out. I be through ‘ere sometimes and ye can leave a note on the board yonder,” he said pointing at the bulletin board by the front door. He let loose with a mighty belch, grabbed an axe that looked as though it weighed more than he did and left without another word.

I sat there for a moment and pondered what he had just told me. I sighed and got up to head back towards the Tree. I kept going back to the point where the ranger had said I had probably spooked the ogre. I wondered how I managed to do that. Who would have thought it was even possible to spook an ogre? It didn’t surprise me though, if someone could manage it, no doubt it’d be me. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried, I always managed to lose the things I was most concerned about. There were even times I was surprised I was still a Lost Boy and hadn’t been ‘drummed’ out or something. Not that I could think of any reason why I would be, but lately it didn’t seem to make a difference.

Outside the shadows were lengthening to twilight. It was cool, windy and the smell of rain was in the air. Above, an almost full moon drifted among sheets of ragged clouds that the wind was blowing in front of it. The prospect of getting soaked didn’t bother me at all. I followed the path through the forest thinking about my lack of faith in myself. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek and wondered what caused it. Maybe trying too hard. Maybe not trying hard enough. Maybe it was simply me. Maybe… all sorts of stuff. I climbed the path as it led to the fork, one direction of which led to the orchard.

I’d have screamed if I hadn’t been too busy panting from the climb I’d just made up the hill. A shadow detached itself from a pine as I passed and a clawed hand grabbed my left arm. As it was, I let out a squeak, while trying to draw my dagger, while untangling it from the pack I was carrying, while trying to backpedal as fast as I could, while trying to yank my left arm from the claw, while attempting to do a dozen other things. All the time I was thinking if I hadn’t been so busy daydreaming I’d have been paying attention to what was going on around me and wouldn’t have been caught like this.

The moon chose that moment to pop out of the cloud it was playing hide-and-seek with and the claw simply became an oversized hand that was holding my arm and not grasping it at all. I looked up from the hand to see the shadow coalesce into the ogre. His other arm was slung against his chest by rope or something and the look on his face conveyed such intense pain that I immediately ‘felt’ it. I dropped the dagger which I’d finally managed to clear from the sheath so that naturally it fell straight down and sliced pelt and left a gash on my leg before making it to the ground. The hand went from holding my arm to trying to use it as support and I almost buckled under the increased weight. His eyes appealed to me as his mouth moved. At first I thought he hadn’t said anything, but in a moment, as though whatever magic that made the translation wasn’t sure it had gotten it right and had double checked it a few hundred times, I heard him say, “Help?”

I woke up the next morning and fell out of the hammock.  One of these days I was going to remember the fact that I slept three feet off the floor.  Feeling the pain in my bruised shins, I wondered what the attraction had been.  I got up off the ground and wandered out to where Stumble cooked stew.  Naturally Tig, Ursa and Cat were in there, even though the place is normally empty.  I walked up to Stumble.  “Do you have some extra stew I can have?” I whispered.

“What?”

“Do you have some spare stew I can have,” I whispered again. 

He looked at me with a bit of annoyance.  “Speak up, Cubbs.  I can’t hear a word you say.”

“Do you have any stew I can have?” I finally asked in a normal voice.

Conversation and background noise came to a complete halt.  “What did you say?” Stumble asked, in an almost quavering voice.

Embarrassed, I mumbled, “Please, can I have some?”

“Cubbs?  It is Cubby, right?  You haven’t changed your name to Oliver or anything and you know it’s not gruel, correct?”  Tig asked in wonder.

“Yeah, I know.”

“No fever or anything?:” Cat asked.

“No, no.  I just need some stew.”

“Yes!”  Stumble said as he did a dance around the room.  “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.  Nyah, Nyah, Nyah!  Take that!”

I looked at Ursa.  “If I’d know that’s all it’d take to make him happy, I’d have done this ages ago.”  He looked on and nodded wisely.

Stumble placed a huge bowl of stew in front of me.  “Here ya go Cub.  Dig in!”  I looked at it for a moment.  Well, uh… Can I get it to go?”

“Sure.  Just pick it up and take it with you.”

“Well it’s sort of for a trip.  Do we have any Tupperware?”

That brought a few blank looks.  Tigger said he didn’t think Tupperware had been invented yet.  After awhile, I finally filled up an old waterskin with it.  “Why don’t you just take waybread?  It’s a lot easier to carry,” Ursa said.

“And a lot tastier,” Tigger muttered under his breath, giving Stumble a big grin when he glared at the comment.

I had thought about waybread, but wasn’t sure how an ogre would react to something so… breadish and tasteless.  “No, I… I like the stew too much to leave it behind.”  I just knew my soul was now in jeopardy for telling such a lie as well as the fact I was going to get huge bowls of stew from now on.  I was so doomed.

Eventually I managed to get away from the Tree with the bag of stew, some first aid stuff and a few other odds and ends.  Ursa had kept giving me strange looks but didn’t say anything as I left.  I wondered what that was all about, but didn’t dwell on it.

It was another distinctly fall day with the requisite clouds skating overhead and a brisk breeze.  The air felt distinctly chilled, and it wasn’t going to be too long before the puddles had a skim of ice over them in the early mornings.  Thinking about that, I wondered again if the hammock was really such a wise idea since the tree tended to get drafty.  I reached the orchard, pretty much out of breath because I had been in a hurry.  I took a quick look around, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary… even for the orchard.  I could ask Ember if he knew where the ogre was, but I had a feeling that would cause the sudden appearance of the entire pack.  Something I wasn’t interested in having occur.  Sometimes I could get Ember to bend the rules a tiny bit, but I don’t think he’d buy it this time.

I wondered what I was trying to prove.  So he had a scrape on his arm?  Big deal.  Lots of denizens of Neverland did after awhile.  Lost and lonely?  I was part of a whole group of that classification.  Hungry?  Me too, all the time it seemed.  So why was I here?  I decided some questions didn’t have any logical answer and just had to be taken on faith.  That sounded good.  I wandered the orchard for a couple of hours, scarfing the occasional apple and remembering tome of the stuff that had gone on there.  The clouds thinned out and the sun suddenly broke through in a display of brilliance.  The day got warmer and a few birds started singing.  It was like summer had decided to give one last show before slinking away.

I continued pondering exactly what I expected to accomplish from this whole thing.  I wasn’t a big fan of ogres or anything.  In fact we’d been in more than one knock down drag out with them in the past.  But something about this was weird.  Ogres normally didn’t travel by themselves and certainly weren’t prone to breaking down and crying, at least among strangers.  There was also his arm.  He really got upset when I mentioned that and whatever had done it had to have been tougher than he was.  Even though he was just a kid, that narrowed the possibilities down a lot.

I flopped down on the ground, the sun immediately beginning to warm my back.  I watched a couple of ants scoot along the ground.  Are ants in Neverland different than ants in other places?  So what was the story with this kid?  Trying to think that through overtaxed my jumbled mind I guess and that, along with the sun on my back, had me sawing logs before too long.

I dreamed of a time before I came to Neverland, when I was a kid in the ‘real’ world.   I don’t remember much about it except that I was getting clobbered or something like that and couldn’t get away.  I jerked awake and looked up at the ogre staring down at me.  “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, pretty much.  Why?”

“You were yelling something awful before you woke up.”

“I was?”  That sort of made sense.  I’d had Roo and Tigger wake me up a bunch of times and goodness knows I’d done the same for the others as well.  I tried to turn it into a joke.  “Sure it wasn’t yowling?” I asked, trying to grin.

He solemnly shook his head.  “No.  You were yelling.  All the birds here took off like there was no tomorrow.”

“Just a bad dream, I guess.  It’s nothing.”

“I have those sometimes.  I hate them.  Night mares don’t play nice.  Neither does a lot of things sometimes.”

“Whatcha mean?” I asked.

“Nothing.”  He looked up at the sun for a moment and then started walking away.

“Hey, wait a sec.  You hungry?”

He hesitated and looked torn.  Finally saying, “No, I’m good.  Really.  Not hungry at all,” his expression belying everything he was saying.

“You sure?  I’ve got some stew.  It’s way more than I could hope to finish.”

He looked at me.  “It doesn’t look like that’s been much of a problem in the past,” he said with just the slightest beginnings of a tentative grin.

I silently sighed.  I guess it would good that I was consistently noticed for something, but could wish I’d had some choice in the matter.  “I’ve sort of cut back a little cuz of that.  It’ll just get tossed if you don’t want any of it.”  He looked at the skin bag a long while and then finally agreed to take some.  He looked at it, sniffed it and then devoured it like he hadn’t eaten in ages.  He caught me staring in awe at him.  “When was the last time you had something to eat?” I asked.

He thought about it, his tongue sticking slightly out the corner of his mouth and moving his fingers as he stared into the air.  “I guess it’s been a few days,” he allowed  “I’m not a real good hunter yet.  I’m also not really sure what berries and stuff are safe to eat.”

That last didn’t surprise me, the way the wizards kept tampering with stuff.  They had come up with a faux strawberry that would put you to sleep for a month.  The only way you could tell the fake one from the real one was the fake had ‘made by Bob’ in microscopic runes on the bottom.  They did make delicious strawberry milk as Stumble found out much to his chagrin one day.  I don’t think he believed my story about it being totally accidental.  “Why haven’t you eaten in so long?”

He got a stricken look on his big face and snapped his mouth closed with an audible click.  I wasn’t sure if he was upset over the fact that he’d told me how long it had been since he’d eaten or if it was because of the reason he hadn’t been eating.  I figured it was the former for some reason.  “It’s no big deal,” I said with a shrug.  “I hardly ever tell anyone about the stuff that’s bothering me either.”

“Really?  How come?  Would you get in trouble or something?”

“Naw.  At least not that I know of.  I just sort of keep stuff like that to myself most of the time.”

“How come?” he asked again.

“I dunno.  I guess cuz I’m used to doing it that way.  It’s sort of a habit from when I lived in the re… I mean, the other world I was in.  That and the fact that I don’t want to make it seem like I’m complaining or burdening my friends with my problems.  They have their own problems and don’t need to be listening to my petty complaints.”

He thought about that.  “Well aren’t they your friends?”

“Yeah.”

“And they tell you what’s bugging them, right?”

“Sure.  That’s one of the reasons I’m around.”

“Don’t you think they’d want you to share your problems with them too?  Friendship is a two-way street, you know.  Don’t you think they’d feel sort of bad if they thought you had stuff you needed to tell but didn’t?”

“Maybe.  It’s not as though I have any big problems at the moment, though.  In fact I don’t know of any problems I’ve got right now.”  I tried a grin.  “Everything is peachy.”

You could almost see the question mark above his head.  “You’ve got nectarines?”

Neverland is an interesting place when it comes to communication.  There aren’t a whole lot of shared languages between species or even members of the same group.  Red apparently would speak in French a lot of the time for instance.  Yet when someone wanted to communicate with another, something within… whatever the structure or magic was would let the communication occur somehow.  I’ve had unicorns tell me to ‘peace out’, had dwarves call me ‘dude’ and similar stuff.  Yet every now and again there’d be some sort of disconnect and telling someone I felt peachy was ‘translated’ as my having a ‘case’ of nectarines.  I explained what I meant by ‘peachy’ and he nodded in understanding, although he didn’t look like he quite believed it.

“What about you?  Do you tell anyone your problems?”

“Maybe I would if anyone cared about them.  But no one does.  It doesn’t really matter anyway.  Who’d believe it?  Even if they did, they wouldn’t do anything about it.  I’ve already learned that.”  He started looking really upset.

“Tell me.  I’ll believe it.  Maybe I can help?”

“Why should I tell you anything?  You’re nothing but some stupid kid who goes around trying to be a wolf and looking really stupid doing it.  Why don’t you just leave me alone.  I don’t need you or anyone else.  Quit trying to be my friend.  Idiot.”

“No, wait,” I said as he went flying back towards the wood.  He didn’t turn and I took off after him.  A lot of good it did.  He went up a hill and when I crested it, I couldn’t even see him.  I couldn’t even track him.  I couldn’t believe how fast or how lightly he moved.  I hung out in the orchard for another hour and watched as the sun started to set, but he didn’t reappear.  I eventually headed back to the Tree, pondering what he’d said.  I still wasn’t sure what was going on, but I intended to find out one way or the other.

I had forgotten the whole thing a few days later when Leo asked me for a favor.  “What?” I asked suspiciously.  Sometimes Leo’s favors turned out to be fairly interesting by the time they were completed.

 

“Nothing much, I just want to know if you’ll get me some apples.  I’m dying for some applesauce.  If you do it, I’ll share.”

 

Applesauce sounded pretty good for some reason.  “Wait a second.  Who’s going to be making this?”

 

“Me of course.  What’d you thing?  I wanted apple stew or something?  Give me some credit, would ya?”

 

“Good plan,” I nodded in approval.  “You’ll have them this afternoon.”

 

Towards the middle of the afternoon I found myself trudging towards the apple orchard.  I sort of liked the place because it had a feeling of magic, even for Neverland, about it.  Plus some exciting stuff happened there sometimes.  It was a typical fall day and clouds were scuttling across a gray background above.  The leaves were chasing each other as the wind played through them.  It was one of those fall days when everything seems to be right with the world.  I let out a howl just ‘because’.  Actually it came out sounding more like a cross between a cat and a cow, with neither being very happy about things.

 

I was halfway up the tree before I realized I was there after hearing someone snicker at my howling attempt.  I turned my head to make a sarcastic comment to Leo about his decidedly not funny joke and saw the ogre kid from the other day.  I promptly fell out of the tree and hit the ground, once again knocking the wind out of me.

 

After going through the panic of ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, oh wait, I can breathe now’, I took a look at the ogre who seemed even bigger than he had the other day.  He had an expression of curiosity and resignation on his broad face.  “What was that yowling you were making?”

 

“Yowling?  I do not yowl,” I said in my most pseudo-pompous voice.  Normally I find if people are busy laughing at me when I’m hamming it up they tend to forget they were getting ready to run away or getting ready to knock the stuffing out of me.  “That was a howl.  A wolf howl.  A timber wolf howl, thank you very much.”

 

He looked at me for a second and a smile almost crossed his face.  “Didn’t sound much like one.  It may be a timber wolf, but it’s one that’s on Death’s door for sure.”

 

I wondered what his reaction would be if he knew I’d been on that particular doorstep before, but banished it to the back of my cluttered mind.  There wasn’t a whole lot to add to his comment, so I went with, “How’s your arm?”

 

He looked at it.  It was still vividly bruised and I could almost imagine it was a bit twisted, but that could have just been me.  “Okay, I guess.  It didn’t really hurt that bad, I guess.”

 

“Wow, you’re tougher than I am.” He grunted at that comment.  I was pretty sure it was a sarcastic grunt.  “I’d be yelling my lungs out.  What happened to it, anyway?”

 

He stood there for a long time, looked at the ground, and muttered something about a cave-in, a rock slide, some door, and a couple of other things that I could take my pick of.  None of them sounded particularly true though.  I guess my skepticism showed on my face because he suddenly turned and started crashing into the forest.  “Hey, wait a second.”

 

He stopped and turned back towards me.  “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter what happened.”

 

“What happened to what?”

 

“Your arm.  As long as it’s better, it doesn’t matter what happened to it.”

 

Confusion slowly fell from his face as he realized I was talking about how he’d hurt his arm and not something else.  He looked down at the ground, muttered something, and took off without stopping this time.  I sighed and wondered what that had been all about.  Something was definitely weird about the whole thing.

 

I started collecting apples and suddenly realized I hadn’t bothered to bring anything to collect them in.  It was nice to see my mind was still functioning good as ever.  I finally shoved back the hood to the wolf pelt and filled it with the fruit.  It worked pretty well except that it bounced against my neck as I walked.  As I started on the ‘scenic’ route back to the Tree, I thought about the ogre again.  Maybe I could ask Leo or Stumble if they knew anything about what was going on.  I stopped so suddenly that some of the apples fell out of the hood, onto the ground.  I was such an idiot sometimes.

 

I ‘called’ out to Ember.  “Hey Ember, are you there?”

 

A minute or two passed and then a very sleepy ‘voice’ responded.  “Cubby?  Is that you?  I was asleep.  Why are you bugging me in the middle of the day?”

 

“I have a question I have to ask.”

 

“And it could not have kept until the night?”

 

“No, not really.  Can you tell me something?”

 

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?” the question was tinged with amusement.

 

“Not a chance.  Do you know if there are any ogres in the area?”

 

“Ogres?  What do you want to know about them for?  There are never any ogres in this area.  Wait a moment.”  There was another pause.  “Starwind says that she’s caught scent of one near that place with the huge red berries.”

 

“So he’s the only one then?”

 

“I did say scent of one.”  There was another pause, and then he came back sounding suspicious.  ”How do you know it’s a he?”

 

“I saw him the other day and today as well.  Is that a big deal?”

 

“Almost as big a deal as the fact all your limbs are still attached in the correct place on your body.  Where did you see it at?”

 

I gave him a quick rundown on what had happened.  It seemed to surprise him a fair amount and there were a lot more pauses as he communicated with the other members of the wolf pack.  “You should tell your packmates about this and do not wander alone until it had been dealt with or leaves.”

 

“Why?  What’s wrong?”

 

“Ogres tend not to play nicely.  They also have a tendency to,” he sent an image of rending, tearing, and ripping which could have been anger, rage, or acid indigestion.  “You’ve had the luck of non-translatable.  Don’t push it any further.  I would hate to lose a packmate.”

 

“Um, okay.  Whatever you say.  I guess you can go back to sleep now.  Sorry I woke you.”

 

“Go back to sleep?  After what you just told me?”  His sending slowly faded to a grumble before disappearing.  I picked up the apples I had dropped and munching on one, continued towards Hangman’s Tree.  By the time I got there, I had the barest beginning of a plan.

 

Leo was outside practicing his knife work with a dagger and a scarecrow propped up against a tree.  “Finally found an opponent you can beat?” I asked.

 

“Ha, you’re one to talk.  The last time you tried to shoot an arrow at a foe, you ended up braining Cat with the bow and had to pull an arrow out of your foot.”

 

“Of course, that was all part of my master plan.  You notice that the pirates were laughing so hard the rest of you were able to capture them and tie them up without any trouble at all.”

 

“Yeah, then we had to listen to all that yowling when you took the arrow out of your foot.”

 

Okay, this was getting annoying.  “I do not yowl.  That was the body’s predictable response to a sensation of pain.”

 

“Pain?  There wasn’t even any blood.  You barely scratched your moccasin.”

 

“All part of the plan,” I said loftily.  “By the way, I got your apples.”

 

He responded with “Schweet”, which always reminded me of someone in the ‘real’ world.  “Of course.  No sour apples here.”  Before he could groan, I asked him, “Do you know what ogres eat?”

 

“Fat Lost Boys who don’t have the ability to shoot an arrow properly.  Since Ursa is a wiz at it, it isn’t hard to guess who that leaves.”  He did a couple of fancy moves and cut a few straws from the scarecrow’s body with the blade.

 

“You’re hilarious.  Seriously what do they eat?”

 

“Seriously, they really do eat Lost Boys.  And elves.  And dwarves.  The occasional horse or deer.  Maybe a dragon.  You know, the usual stuff.”

 

“Aw go on.  Has anyone really seen this?”

 

“Course not.  Anyone who sees an ogre is normally being digested a few minutes later.  Tig told me you were asking about ogres.  Why the sudden interest, anyway?”  The left arm of the scarecrow fell to the ground as the dagger cut through it.

 

“You’re always telling me my woodlore needs help.  Figured I’d concentrate on a species at a time.”

 

He thrust the dagger in the ‘heart’ of the scarecrow, left it, and looked at me.  “You’re up to something.  It’s as clear as the crop of freckles across your face.  I don’t think even you would find a practical joke involving an ogre funny.”

 

I put on my most innocent ‘who me’ expression and started handing him apples from the wolf pelt hood.

 

“Hey, these are bruised.”

 

“Duh!  I had to use them to fight off a herd of ogres after all.  They were allergic to apples and fled the scene due to my deadeye aim.  The forest is once again safe thanks to Sir Cubby the Brave.”

 

“You’ve got a dead eye alright, along with your brain.  Cubby the nutsy is more like it.”  He juggled the apples as he managed to climb down through the trapdoor without dropping any.

 

“Don’t forget you said you’d share,” I yelled down.  The response was muffled, but I was pretty sure it was both affirmative and sarcastic.  Now to find Stumble and ask him if he had any spare stew.  That’d probably create a rumor that would never end.

 

Sometimes a story demands to be written, regardless of what else you're doing or might be working on.  This is one of those story sequences.  I just wanted to note that I haven't abandoned the current story occurring in the Lavender Kingdom and will be finishing that up as well.  Thanks for your patience, and, as always, for your readership.

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The ogre looked as though he was about my age. He looked scrawny for a young ogre, but still probably outweighed me by around ten or twelve stone. I found him sitting beneath a pine tree near the old apple orchard, almost hidden by the lower branches that swept the ground. It was a little unusual to see an ogre this far south since they tended to hang out in the North Wood. I probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all except for the sniffling he was doing.

I had two choices. I could turn tail and run, an action being urged on by a part of me that knew ogres had a tendency to tear Lost Boys apart simply because, or I could find out why he was sniffling, something that the pseudo-healer in me thought was a great idea, although it was in a very small minority. I was decided when the sniffling became sobbing. Ogres ‘never’ cry, and the fact that this one was could only mean he was deeply in despair over something.

I approached slowly, ready to run if he decided he didn’t like my looks or something. In my perpetual clumsiness, I stepped on a branch that make a cracking sound that echoed throughout the orchard. The sobbing was cut off immediately and he looked up at me with a momentary look of terror. When he had time to register who I was, the look of terror changed to studied indifference.

“What are you looking at?” he asked in an arrogant voice, only slightly marred by a slight snuffle at the end. “You better get out of here before I decide to flatten you.”

Perhaps I had a death wish or something, but from out of nowhere I came up with the remarkably intelligent response, “Yeah? You and what army, Kid?”

I could tell from his face that he wasn’t angry, but looked almost resigned. He stood up without bothering to move from under the pine tree, and I heard several limbs crack and groan as he simply went ‘through’ them. He was probably a good half a foot taller than I was. He stepped out of the boughs and moved towards me in a threatening manner.

“Okay. I was just kidding. I’d need an army, a big one, I… What the heck happened to your arm?” I asked in a bit of shock. His left arm had huge greenish-purple bruises running down the length of it and it looked as though some of the skin had been shredded and abraded.

He looked down at it for a moment, almost as though puzzled by the whole thing. He looked at me again, then burst into tears and fell on the ground, sitting down hard.

“Go away,” he demanded. “I don’t need anyone. Especially someone like you. Just leave me alone and go away.”

Ogres don’t do real well when it comes to diplomacy because they have a fair amount of trouble disguising how their feeling at any given time. The one in front of me seemed to be wavering between aggressiveness and something else I couldn’t quite make out, but which seemed oddly familiar. I stood there trying to figure out what to do. For some reason the easiest way out was also the one I most resisted doing. “I know you don’t need me. Half the time I have trouble convincing myself that I need me. But I’ve got some training as a healer and…

“I don’t need a healer. I just need to be left alone. I just want…” he trailed off mumbling so I couldn’t tell how he finished the sentence. He sat there with his head hanging down, looking at the ground. Waiting for a couple of minutes, I finally walked over and kneeled down beside him. I started examining the bruises on his arm. He didn’t make any attempt to move away, or more importantly, didn’t attempt to hurl me through a tree. His arm looked horrible, as though someone had grabbed it and started twisting it. The way it appeared, if it had been any other species, I’d probably be looking at a couple of compound fractures at the very least. Looking around, I spied some Shepherd’s Rescue which is a small bush type plant with huge green and orange leaves. I broke a couple of them off and told him to wrap them around his arm. As he did that, whatever it is the leaf contains went to work. Normally it helps reduce swelling and sometimes even does something about pain.

“Better?” I asked.

“Yeah, sort of,” he admitted grudgingly. “Thanks. See you around.” He stood up and took off faster than I would have though possible, the crashing in the trees slowly fading away. I mentally shrugged and didn’t think anymore about it. Instead I spent the day scarfing apples, daydreaming, and painting pictures on the clouds floating by above. Well okay, maybe not that last one quite the way it sounds.

I got back to Hangman’s Tree as the sun started to set and climbed down through my trapdoor that led into the common room. “Hey, Tig. You seen any ogres around here lately?”

“Ogres? Nope. They usually stay in the woods up north. I can tell you, if you thought you caught a glimpse of one in the woods you’re probably wrong. There haven’t been any around these parts in ages. Good thing too. You know what they’re like.”

I nodded absently, wondering if I really did.