The goblin encampment in flames, the saboteurs ran from the angry ogre they hadn’t expected.
“Thragg CRUSH hoo-mans!”
Her fellow scouts fleeing, Meg hid behind a tent with a twisted ankle. Mighty Thragg thundering close, she uncorked the Ogresweat potion.
“If a sip fooled the goblin dogs…” Meg pondered, then downed the whole bottle.
There was a sound of rending fabric before Thragg toppled the tent with his club. He discovered a confused ogress dressed in revealing tatters.
She blinked. “M-Meg.”
“M-meg smell good.”
She gulped receiving Thragg’s ogrish flattery. “Uh, thanks?”
Tapping her new tusks in the romantic ambience of a burning camp, Meg eyed escape routes.
Her fidgets made the mountain of muscle before her bashfully look to the ground.
Lowering his club, Thragg found a handful of daisies and plucked them. “Not many pretty, like M-meg.”
She stared at his offering of flowers, letting them hang in the air.
“M-meg strong, beautiful,” he said getting on one knee. “Make Thragg feel funny in tummy.”
Between blinks, Meg saw the last of her friends slip into the woods. Looking back to Thragg’s nervous-yet-hopeful smile, she took his improvised bouquet.
“Oh, what the hell,” the ogress grinned, sniffing simple flowers. “I’ve probably had worse dates!”
Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.