The goblin encampment was in flames, but the party of saboteurs hadn’t planned on finding an angry ogre in their midst.
“Me Thragg! Me crush hoo-mans!”
Meg watched her fellow scouts flee, hiding behind a tent with a twisted ankle. Mighty Thragg thundering close, she uncorked the Ogresweat potion. “If a sip fooled the goblin dogs, maybe the whole thing…”
There was a sound of rending fabric before Thragg toppled the tent with his club. Behind it he discovered a confused ogress dressed in revealing tatters.
She blinked. “M-Meg.”
“Mmeg smell good.”
“Thanks?” she gulped receiving Thragg’s ogrish flattery. Meg licked her new lips and tusks, eyes searching for an escape route.
Her fidgets made the mountain of muscle before her bashfully look to the ground. Lowering his weapon, he found a handful of daisies and plucked them. “Not many pretty like Mmeg.”
She stared at his offering of flowers, letting them hang in the air. Between blinks she spotted the last of her friends slip into the woods, then looked back to Thragg’s nervous yet hopeful smile.
Meg took his improvised bouquet. “Oh, what the hell. I’ve probably had worse dates.”
(c) Jason H. Abbott – October 7, 2017