butterflies and wear them on his head. Every time he suffered a difficult thought his laboring brain heated up his head and the butter melted, but that was no problem. He seldom bothered with difficult thoughts, and it was easy to catch new butterflies.
Okra knew that creatures disappeared on occasion.
Ogres did all manner of stupid things, such as barging through dragon conventions or walking off sheer cliffs, and were generally then heard from no more. No one thought anything of it except Okra, who discovered yet another peculiarity of her nature: grief. She missed her grandparents, and was sorry to think that anything bad could have happened to them. Naturally she kept this sentiment to herself, because of her primary flaw: her intelligence.
Unable to sleep, Okra roamed the dank chambers and dusky tunnels of their home caves by night. During one of these dismal jaunts she happened to overhear the voices of her Uncle Marzipana and his henchmen.
It seemed that the Ogre-Fen-Ogre Fen ogre Smithereen had been spied bashing small dragons over their heads with fresh pretzel treetrunks, and would bash his way on to Lake OgreChobee any day now. They were afraid he would balk when he actually saw Okra. So they planned to carve a petrified pumpkin into the shape of an ogre face-any random pounding and slashing would do for that-and jam it on Okra's head so that she would look uglier than she was, at least until after the wedding. Then it wouldn't matter, of course; the ogre would pull out her hair and bash her real head into any new ugliness he preferred.
For some reason Okra wanted neither the pumpkin treatment nor the marriage. She realized that she just didn't fit in ogre society. So with shame she did her final unogreish thing: she bugged out. She packed her dragonleather knapsack and made her way out to the dark slurpy shore of the lake where her little homemade oxblood boat lurked.
Ogres were no sailors, so none of the others had ever recognized the nature of this craft, let alone connected it to her. She had often rowed around the lake by night, finding it blissfully peaceful. That of course marked one more flaw in her nature: no good ogre desired peace.
But once she was in her boat and fleeing the ogre caves, she realized that she had nowhere to go. She was unlikely to get anywhere if she had no destination, so she pondered, and by and by it came to her. She would go to the Good Magician for an Answer! Since she didn't have a Question, she would have to come up with one. She cogitated and pondered and considered and thought about it until her skull began to overheat, and finally decided that she would simply ask for her fortune.
Whatever the Good Magician had to offer was bound to be less worse than whatever else she faced.
But she didn't know where the Good Magician lived.
So she solved that problem ogre fashion: she just rowed and rowed until maybe she'd get where she was going.
While she did, she continued to think-that was a lifelong fault of hers-and realized that she might have a better chance if she did not leave her fortune up to the Good Magician. She should frame her Question so that the Answer would give her the clue to improving her fortune. But how could she do that?
Questions flitted tantalizingly around her ears, never quite entering her head. She began to get annoyed. That gave her a notion. Maybe she should ask whether she should keep her temper, and if so, where should she keep it? But after a time she realized that the Good Magician might simply answer “No,” and charge her a year's service. So she discarded that one and continued to ponder.
She rowed and rowed, because she couldn't see where she was going but obviously wasn't there yet. That gave her plenty of time to think.
Finally she came up with what she thought was the perfect Question: how could she become a Main Character? For it was evident that every creature was a
Okra knew that creatures disappeared on occasion.
Ogres did all manner of stupid things, such as barging through dragon conventions or walking off sheer cliffs, and were generally then heard from no more. No one thought anything of it except Okra, who discovered yet another peculiarity of her nature: grief. She missed her grandparents, and was sorry to think that anything bad could have happened to them. Naturally she kept this sentiment to herself, because of her primary flaw: her intelligence.
Unable to sleep, Okra roamed the dank chambers and dusky tunnels of their home caves by night. During one of these dismal jaunts she happened to overhear the voices of her Uncle Marzipana and his henchmen.
It seemed that the Ogre-Fen-Ogre Fen ogre Smithereen had been spied bashing small dragons over their heads with fresh pretzel treetrunks, and would bash his way on to Lake OgreChobee any day now. They were afraid he would balk when he actually saw Okra. So they planned to carve a petrified pumpkin into the shape of an ogre face-any random pounding and slashing would do for that-and jam it on Okra's head so that she would look uglier than she was, at least until after the wedding. Then it wouldn't matter, of course; the ogre would pull out her hair and bash her real head into any new ugliness he preferred.
For some reason Okra wanted neither the pumpkin treatment nor the marriage. She realized that she just didn't fit in ogre society. So with shame she did her final unogreish thing: she bugged out. She packed her dragonleather knapsack and made her way out to the dark slurpy shore of the lake where her little homemade oxblood boat lurked.
Ogres were no sailors, so none of the others had ever recognized the nature of this craft, let alone connected it to her. She had often rowed around the lake by night, finding it blissfully peaceful. That of course marked one more flaw in her nature: no good ogre desired peace.
But once she was in her boat and fleeing the ogre caves, she realized that she had nowhere to go. She was unlikely to get anywhere if she had no destination, so she pondered, and by and by it came to her. She would go to the Good Magician for an Answer! Since she didn't have a Question, she would have to come up with one. She cogitated and pondered and considered and thought about it until her skull began to overheat, and finally decided that she would simply ask for her fortune.
Whatever the Good Magician had to offer was bound to be less worse than whatever else she faced.
But she didn't know where the Good Magician lived.
So she solved that problem ogre fashion: she just rowed and rowed until maybe she'd get where she was going.
While she did, she continued to think-that was a lifelong fault of hers-and realized that she might have a better chance if she did not leave her fortune up to the Good Magician. She should frame her Question so that the Answer would give her the clue to improving her fortune. But how could she do that?
Questions flitted tantalizingly around her ears, never quite entering her head. She began to get annoyed. That gave her a notion. Maybe she should ask whether she should keep her temper, and if so, where should she keep it? But after a time she realized that the Good Magician might simply answer “No,” and charge her a year's service. So she discarded that one and continued to ponder.
She rowed and rowed, because she couldn't see where she was going but obviously wasn't there yet. That gave her plenty of time to think.
Finally she came up with what she thought was the perfect Question: how could she become a Main Character? For it was evident that every creature was a
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