CHAPTER 59 Steal an Ogre’s Dinner

CHAPTER 59

Steal an Ogre’s Dinner

Rufus

I caught the grimalcat as he landed square in my arms.

“Commander General,” the cat greeted, sliding down onto my lap and circling once as if he hadn’t just landed on me from the night sky.

“Slake,” I replied, reaching out a hand and gently rubbing his head down to his tail—being careful of his wings, of course.

“Brownie,” said Bronwynn, not wanting to be left out. We each gave her a wry look, and she grinned.

The grimalcat kneaded his nails in the blankets and made a pleased purr as I continued to give him gentle rubs. After four, the grimalcat freed himself and tromped to the space between Bronwynn and my headrest.

“You traveled much farther than I’d anticipated.” He circled three times then lay down comfortably, showing off his soft stomach. “I’m impressed.”

Bronwynn lay back down first and then reached out a hand toward Slake. “May I?”

Slake rolled to give her better access to his fluffy chest and inviting tummy.

I saw the trap for what it was, but it was too late to give warning; Bronwynn had placed her hand down on the temptation and was promptly mauled.

Still, she didn’t seem all that perturbed. I relaxed when she swept her fingers up to the grimalcat’s just below the chin and started scratching the tuft of hair on his fluffy chest. Slake immediately released his hold on her flesh and flopped back to let her continue her adoring administrations.

Rufus wondered if she would be tempted to pet him with such fervor in his beast form …

The next day dawned damp with dew and a little cold. The dry, hot spring had been threatening drought, so the weather was a welcome sign. They were packed and on the road before the rain started.

Slake was not amused and hid in my cloak.

The sun peeked its head out of the clouds by noon, and the rest of the day flew by. It helped that we had the famous Slake Drakeford to regale us with his stories between Bronwynn singing songs. Donna didn’t seem that impressed, but Donna was a horse.

The border to Peldeep drew closer and closer …

I noticed that, as the day went on, my bard started getting restless. She repeated songs and went longer and longer between playing. The traffic so close to the border was heavier, and we passed merchants, carriages, and travelers all filling the roads. The turn off to Gren’s Keep passed on the left, and the path to the dwarven outpost Frolin passed on our right. The only thing of interest was a noble entourage in shambles, but they didn’t prevent the flow of traffic.

Eventually, when the border actually came into sight in the distance, Bronwynn asked Donna to stop.

“Is this about your three encounters?” I asked, considering Gerda’s bridge and Brightstar and maybe Slake as potential encounters. Though meeting up with a grimalcat who was already invited to travel with us might not have counted.

Everyone waited for Bronwynn to tell us what was on her mind.

“Rufus,” my bard finally broached. “I—”

“Fair travelers, please listen to my plight!” And of course, that was when a small red squirrel hopped onto a tree branch on the side of the road and called out to us.

It was almost so quiet as to be imperceptible, but I heard Bronwynn sigh. She must have been anxious. She turned a beaming smile at the squirrel and said, “What troubles you, Daisy?”

The squirrel, Daisy, scampered around the branch she was perched on once and then stood back up. She placed the back of her tiny paw against her tiny forehead dramatically and proclaimed, “The dread Morga has imprisoned Earl Oakley of Sumbria in her lair and is going to eat him this very evening should no one rescue him!”

Bronwynn frowned. “The dread Morga isn’t known for eating elves … What did he do?”

The squirrel took a deep breath, and then visibly slumped forward, all theatrics laid aside. “Alright, I’ll tell you straight, Brownie! He had it coming! He was so mean to Morga and called her … Well, he was very rude . If he weren’t of elven royal blood, every one of us forest folk would’ve been happy to see him get eaten. But …”

“He is of royal blood.” Bronwynn nodded knowingly. “So you’re just doing your job. Thank you, Daisy.”

“It’s days like these I think about finding new work, but I have an enchanted treehouse overlooking the Pixie Prim’s sunflower field to pay off, and I’m not moving.” Daisy the squirrel’s nose twitched. She pointed a claw off the beaten path and said, “You’ll find Morga’s lair about ten minutes that way.”

I scratched my head. “So, you’re … a professional quest giver?”

The squirrel stuck up her chin. “The best.”

“We’ll head out now. See you next time, Daisy!” Bronwynn told the squirrel, who waved then scampered away out of sight.

I crossed my arms. “You aren’t really going to go and steal an ogre’s dinner, are you?”

“Of course I am,” Bronwynn replied, hopping down from the wagon even as Donna pulled them to the side of the road. She had her instrument slung over her shoulder. “It’s all in a day’s work as a traveling bard.”

“It’s the proper thing to do in these cases,” Slake said from my lap. The grimalcat lazily stretched before jumping onto the bench. He spread his wings and flapped once, a gust of wind carrying him to Bronwynn. Slake landed gently on her back, fumbling for just a second before finding the right leverage to sit on the half giantess’s shoulder without getting in the way of her instrument. “Lead on, friend Brownie.”

I hurried after them as we abandoned Donna and the wagon to follow a deer trail into the dark woods. The entire place grew quiet at our approach.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just ignore these types of encounters entirely?” I asked, catching up.

Bronwynn physically shivered. “Oh no. Definitely not. If I don’t go, I get bad luck.”

“The debuff?”

“No.” She explained, “It’s just that my encounters are all normal and usually fall within a certain danger limit. If I ignore encounters, the next one gets less ignorable.”

“But you can ignore them?”

“The last time I did that, I got kidnapped and lost my musical instrument,” she told me.

I stopped on the path. “What?!”

Bronwynn looked like she was going to shrug, but she had a grimalcat on her shoulder. Slake, for his part, looked interested. He said, “That sounds like quite the tale.”

“It was almost worth it,” she grumbled. “I was supposed to save the crown prince of Sumbria when I ran into him on the road the day before the Spring Ball. I stopped for thirty seconds before abandoning that cause. That elf was awful . Luckily, the maiden traveling with him had a bow and fended off the bandits by herself. If the earl is anything like Crown Prince Darcy, or whatever his name was, then we’re in for an unpleasant afternoon. So let’s get this over with quickly.”

Bronwynn stopped as we crested a hill, looking down into a thicket with a large wooden cottage. There was a desperate and fearful groaning coming from inside, the only other sound from a trickling brook that wound its way through the clearing.

“I wonder if Morga knows people are calling her home a lair ?” Brownie mused before starting the slow descent.

“And I wonder,” I said, following after the bard, “if she’s home.”