Giants and Ogres by Madeline Smoot Page B

tall trees, everything seems a little darker. I ease my way down from the trees and pause at the road. I look both ways, but I know there’s no one coming. We’ve crossed over past the edge of town. There’s nothing out this way except forest and, further out, a rock quarry where people dump old cars. It isn’t even romantic or anything. It’s just granite and gray and bleak.
    I cross the street quickly and creep slowly up the hill on the other side.
    Crack!
    A branch snaps beneath me. I hold my breath. Did he hear? Is he waiting for me? Or have I lost his trail?
    After a moment with just the whisper of the treetops blowing, I move again.
    I keep low to the ground, sometimes using my arms to clamber on all fours. My heart is pounding again.
    I reach the top of the hill, and from behind thick pines, I see a little shack. My heart jumps, and I consider turning and running.
    I could go to the police! I could tell my parents! We could move!
    No. I shut my eyes. I need to face him.
    I lower myself slowly down the hill. Closer to the little house. As I’m about to step into the yard—
    â€œYou’re a quiet tracker.”
    I spin around. He’s there. His hulking body is hunched over, a club in his hands. I stagger back, then try to stand firm.
    â€œI’m … I just want you to stay away from my brother.”
    â€œYour brother?” He pretends to think then smiles a terrifying, sharp-toothed smile. He’s uglier, scarier with his full gray skin showing.
    He steps toward me. “But he looks delicious.”
    I stagger back again even though I want to stand up and be tough. “Leave him alone! I know it was you who killed the sub. And the swimmer. I know it was you.”
    â€œSmart girl.” He takes another step toward me.
    â€œStay away from my—”
    But he steps toward me, and I go mute.
    â€œStay—,” I try, but nothing comes out of my mouth, and I stagger back again.
    â€œMaybe I’ll start with you. I haven’t had ogress. I imagine it’s tough and gamy. Looks sort of disgusting, really.”
    I glance over my shoulder. I could probably out run him and make it home—
    â€œBut no. I’ve had my heart set on young Tanner for a long time.”
    And when he says the name, when he uses my brother’s, my annoying, ever-present, all-mine brother’s name, I get mad. I feel the rage start to build in me. I stop stepping back.
    And the ogre sees, and he narrows his eyes.
    â€œNo,” I say, and my voice is a growl.
    I dive at his feet, sweeping them out from under him. He lands with a thud, but just as fast he flips me around and suddenly towers over me.
    â€œI can kill you first if you prefer.”
    I roll out from under him just as his club lands where I was.
    I spin around and lower my stance. His eyes flash with anger, and he jumps at me, swinging the club.
    I duck, panting. I’m not thinking, just reacting. He swings again. I dive to the ground. Just as he leaps toward me, I throw two fistfuls of dirt and pine needles in his face. He staggers back for just a moment. I kick his club out of his hand, then turn, and run up the hill.
    I stop to breathe and think.
    Then I continue uphill. I make sure to make lots of noise—grunts and breaking branches. I pause and hear him following.
    Now I’m in my element. I slip over heavy trunks like they’re pommel horses and stay yards ahead of him. I can hear him lurching after me.
    I see my goal in the distance: the cliff at the edge of the quarry. I make more noise, grunting, panting. And I can hear him laugh between pants.
    I come to the edge of the cliff and bend over, huge hands on my knees, breathing hard.
    I hear him slow behind me. I hear him snap a thick branch off a tree. I wait.
    â€œYou move fast for an ogress. Too bad you took the dead end.”
    I stare at the ground and wait. I can smell him now. I just stay hunched over, panting, with all my