Chapter 1

Mia

I t’s a difficult journey to get up the cliffs to the cave where Cragnorr lives, but I've gotten quite good at it over the years. He doesn't need me to bring food to him as often now, as he takes care of most of his own needs by hunting and foraging, but I always make sure to save some bread, cheese, and smoked meat for him when I can. He loves cured salami the most.

Yesterday, I got some sweets from the traveling merchant that came through town, and I thought Cragnorr would like them. They’re in my bag as I head up the mountainside.

My parents don't bother asking anymore where I'm going when I leave. Mom is always busy at her loom, making rugs and blankets to sell at the market. Dad has a jewelry shop in town where he repairs earrings and watches and sometimes makes rings. As long as I'm not getting into trouble, which I never have, they don't care how or where I spend my day. They haven't pressured me yet into finding my own trade, hoping secretly that a man will come along and offer to marry me. Then they can send me on my way with a clear conscience.

But I would never marry someone, not if it meant I had to leave Cragnorr.

I was ten when the village hunters went out in a party, searching for the cougar that was plucking off our livestock. Instead of a cougar in the woods, the hunters found a pair of ogres—creatures we thought had long disappeared.

The hunters returned with their swords smeared in blood, and told everyone in town that the ogres put up a fight before they were felled like ancient trees. The hunting party all seemed so proud of themselves for butchering a family.

Trollkin are our natural enemies, of course. We have been at war with the trolls and orcs for as long as anyone can remember, and unfortunately for Cragnorr’s parents, ogres are lumped in with them. I had never seen a trollkin with my own eyes before, so that night, my curiosity got the better of me and I went out to look. They must be terrifying to stir such fear in the villagers.

I followed the trail left behind by the horses’ hoof prints deep into the woods, and there I found two bodies, both enormous. One ogre and one ogress, eyes open and unseeing, bodies covered in their own blood. Empty packs lay beside them, clearly pillaged by the hunters.

The ogres were not nearly as monstrous as I'd been led to believe. Their tusks were large, yes—but they wore simple clothes that looked handmade, and their packs were similarly woven. Their faces were soft, quiet, almost peaceful despite the blood.

What had they done to deserve this besides live?

That was when I heard something shifting up in the branches of a tree. I wondered if I’d made a mistake coming out here, and the threat still lingered. But at ten years old, my curiosity was powerful—more powerful than my fear of the unknown, so I climbed into the tree to get a better look at whatever was hiding there .

It’s been fourteen years now since I found a little ogre clinging to a tree trunk, tears falling from his eyes in perfect silence. That's always how he’s been: besides a word here and there, he barely makes a sound. But I don’t blame him, having seen what he did.

The tears on Cragnorr’s face glistened in the moonlight. He was so young and so helpless, I was surprised at how big he was. Perhaps I should have been frightened of him, but all I saw was a lost child who had no one left.

"Give me your hand," I told him, and when at last he took my open palm in his, we hopped down from the tree together.

This small ogre didn't want to let me go after that, but I couldn't take him home or the villagers would simply kill him like they did his parents. So I pledged to hide him and protect him, knowing I could never fix what my kind had done, but hoping I could keep him safe until he was old enough to fend for himself.

I don't know how old Cragnorr was when I found him, but it seems to me that ogres grow similar to the way humans do, so I would say he was six or seven. I led him to an old, abandoned shed, where I brought him blankets and a lamp and whatever food I could scrounge up that wouldn't be noticed. Often, I gave him my own dinner so no one would ask questions, and eventually, he became comfortable enough that he told me his name.

Cragnorr . That’s one of the few words he’s ever said. I don’t know if he’s always been quiet, or if watching his parents murdered in front of him killed the words in his throat.

Cragnorr lived the first few years of his life in that shed, trying to stay a secret from my parents. I visited him whenever possible, until one day my father talked about using the old shed again to store parts, and we had to come up with a different solution. Cragnorr was getting much bigger, anyway, and he needed a home that could accommodate him.

After weeks of searching, he finally found a cave that was livable. He was drawn to it in the way I think ogres are, and with my help, he was able to live there alone. He really should have been with his mother, or other ogres like him, but I was all he had. I wonder how many remain, or if Cragnorr and his family are the last. He could have left long ago, but instead he’s chosen to stay, living up on the mountain that overshadows our village.

I navigate the switchbacks that lead up the cliff until I reach the ledge, where I can find his cave. The lamp inside is burning, casting a bright yellow glow from the low archway. I follow it inside, and as I enter, Cragnorr gets up out of one of the two chairs he built out of logs and scrap wood. When we were younger and he was smaller, I would run over and hug him whenever I came to visit, but then we both grew up in different ways. Sometimes I still want to throw my arms around him, but it would feel inappropriate.

"I brought you something," I sing-song, sitting at the little table Cragnorr built. Over the years his cave has become a home, and I've brought him what supplies I can to build with. I pour out my backpack over the table, candies spilling everywhere. Cragnorr's amber eyes get big.

"Sweets," I tell him happily. "Remember the last time I brought some and you really liked the caramel? I made sure to get lots of those this time."

Cragnorr reaches out with one massive, grey-green hand and swipes one of the tiny candies I've brought. When the candy is exposed to him, gleaming in the lamplight, he plops it into his mouth.

"It's so good, right?" I ask. "I thought you would like those." In answer, Cragnorr lets out a happy noise. "Now don't eat all of them at once, like you did that one time. Remember how sick you got? I don't know the next time that merchant will be back.”

Cragnorr thoughtfully sucks on the candy in his mouth. It's nice to be with him again, surrounded by his calm, collected energy .

“I spent some time with Dad working on his latest project,” I tell him. “He’s making some wedding rings for a couple in town, and he’s teaching me how to set the jewels.”

Cragnorr nods along while he eats.

“I’m getting a lot better at it. Next we’re going to do some engraving!” I love working with my hands. “Maybe I can make you something?”

He smiles, then holds out one hand like he’s imagining a ring around one of his big fingers.

“But I don’t think we have a gauge big enough...” I trail off. I don’t mean to remind him again that he doesn’t fit in the human world, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

It's only when my head starts to get a little fuzzy, and the world tilts around me, that I realize it's getting late and I should start back home.

Cragnorr’s brows tilt down and his lips curve into a frown, the same as always when it comes time for me to go. He tries to hide how sad it makes him to watch me leave, but it's there anyway, underneath the surface.

I’ve encouraged Cragnorr to go explore before, suggesting that he look for others of his kind and find a place where he might truly belong. As awful as it would feel to lose him, it would be what's best for him.

But every time I bring it up, Cragnorr shakes his head as if this is an impossibility.

When I finally say, “I’ve got to get to bed,” he rises up to his full height, dense and thick with muscle, and follows me out of the cave. I’m not sure how he became so strong, but I get the sense that I don’t know most of the things he does during the day when I’m not around.

Cragnorr holds up the lamp while I work my way down the cliffside. I've gotten good at this, but I know better than to become cocky and possibly fall. His lamp guides my way until he’s out of sight.

Cragnorr

I hate watching her go. I always have, and I always will.

Mia is joy and light. When she comes it is summer, and when she leaves it is winter again. I love listening to her musical voice, the way she spins the story of how she spent her day, making it sound mystical and magical.

I've grown used to watching her leave me, though. I know that she'll be back the next day, or the day after. Maybe our visits are different now than they used to be, but I will see her again.

When we were young, she would take me to bathe at the lake, and always led me along by the hand. We’d soap ourselves, and then Mia would rinse her sun-kissed brown skin before rinsing mine. Now my little human keeps a polite distance, only occasionally touching me when her small fingers land on mine as we reach for the same piece of fruit.

I miss when Mia wasn't afraid of me. When she found me, we were nearly the same size. The change happened when I grew taller, and taller, and my body filled out even thicker and firmer until I was towering over her. That’s when she stopped putting her arms around me, and I miss the scent of her lavender-scented soap. I think about it long after she leaves, and I wonder what it would feel like to hold her again now that she's all soft curves.

Perhaps this is why we don’t hug anymore.

Sometimes I wish I could follow her home to make sure she gets back safely, but she’s forbidden me from coming too close to the village. I still remember the human men who put their bullets and swords through my parents that fateful day, and I know she fears that would be my dead body if they ever found me living here.

So I do what she asks and remain in my cave, only leaving to find food or supplies in the woods. I will always do what my Mia asks of me.

Like I do every night, I close up the cave with a wooden plank that fits neatly into the entrance, then make my way into the back, where the walls and ceiling draw in closer and tighter. Here I lie down on my pile of furs and pelts, wishing I could tell Mia that I won’t harm her just because I’m so big now. That I would never harm her.

This is why I refuse to leave her to look for other ogres who may or may not exist. It’s my job to protect her. I live on this mountain overlooking the village so I can always keep an eye out, so I’m prepared should danger ever come. She saved me, and so until I die, I will watch over her.

After extinguishing the lamp, I lie down in my bed and stare up into the darkness for what feels like hours, remembering Mia’s visit and how her eyes lit up when she talked about the traveling merchant.

At last, I give in to my baser needs, and slide down my pants to remove my cock.

I shouldn’t think of her this way. No, I absolutely shouldn’t be thinking of her body, round all over. I shouldn’t be thinking of her parted lips when she sucked on a candy today. But I do anyway, gently stroking myself at first, and then my hand speeding up the more I imagine licking her like that piece of candy.

After splattering my belly with my seed, I pull up a big blanket to cover myself and hide my shame.

She would never see me that way, my Mia, my sunshine girl. I’m a big, ugly, frightening ogre, and I think there’s little I could do to convince her otherwise.

But that doesn’t matter. I will stay here on my mountain to keep watch. After everything Mia has done for me, protecting her is the one thing I’ll do until the end of time.