The fire crackled in the small clearing still, its warm glow casting dancing shadows across Ava

  and Ugraum. As the ogre worked, his massive hands deftly maneuvering the wild boar over the

  fire, Ava couldn’t help but stare. The sight of such a large creature handling the meat with

  surprising care was... unexpectedly impressive.

  Her mind, still reeling from the fact that she was stuck in a completely foreign world, couldn’t

  help but drift back to the more immediate concern: food. She hadn’t realized how hungry she

  was until the rich, savory scent of roasting meat filled the air.

  "So," Ava ventured, trying to break the silence, "how do you... cook meat like that? You seem like

  you could just bite into it raw."

  Ugraum glanced over at her, his expression unreadable as always. "I could," he said, grinning.

  "But it would taste better cooked."

  Ava stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or joking. The ogre’s face didn’t

  reveal much, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. She could tell, despite his

  intimidating exterior, there was something... gentle about him. Something that didn’t quite fit the

  usual “bandit” stereotype.

  "Right," she said, slightly taken aback. "So what’s your deal, then? I mean, you said you weren’t

  like the other ogres... but what makes you different?"

  Ugraum set the meat down on a flat stone and began carving it with surprising finesse. He

  grunted as he worked, glancing at Ava.

  "Other ogres are... they want war. Power. I just want... peace. And food," he added with a chuckle.

  "Too much war. I prefer quiet."

  Ava raised an eyebrow. "Peace and food, huh? Sounds pretty nice. Is that what your band of

  bandits is after?"

  "Eh, bandits are hungry," Ugraum said with a shrug. "Not all bad. Just want to survive."

  Ava raised an eyebrow. "So you’re not exactly robbing people. You’re just... getting by?"

  "Getting by," Ugraum agreed, his voice softer now. "Sometimes people forget that. They just see

  the ogre, not the person."

  Ava bit her lip, her thoughts drifting to her own life back in London. She hadn’t had it easy—

  always been a little different, a little too curious for her own good. People didn’t always

  understand her either. The idea of being “forgotten” because of something she couldn’t control...

  that stung.

  She shook her head, trying to focus. "So... you think you can help me get home? I don’t even

  know where to start."

  Ugraum stared into the fire for a moment, his large, muscled arms crossed. "We can try," he

  rumbled. "But I think... portals not just open for nothing. You might be here for a reason."

  Ava frowned. "A reason? What do you mean?"

  But before Ugraum could respond, he grinned and shoved a piece of roasted boar toward her.

  "Eat. It’s good."

  She looked at the boar, the golden-brown skin crispy and glistening from the firelight. Ava

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  hesitated for a moment before giving in. She was hungry, and it did smell incredible.

  She picked up a small piece, cautiously taking a bite. The flavor exploded in her mouth.

  "Well, I’ll give you that," she said, with a mouthful. "This is amazing."

  Ugraum grunted, clearly pleased with himself. "I told you. Ogres know how to cook."

  Ava smiled despite herself, the warmth of the food and the fire slowly thawing her nerves. As she

  chewed, she found herself glancing at Ugraum more than once. There was something about the

  way he handled the food, the way he seemed so at ease in the wilderness, that made her feel...

  comfortable. Safe, even. It was strange to feel that way with a creature so much larger and

  stronger than her, especially after everything that had happened. But there it was.

  "So," Ava started, wiping her mouth, "how do you usually survive out here? I mean, it can’t just be

  wild boar every day."

  Ugraum raised an eyebrow. "You think I eat this every day?" He gestured to the food. "No.

  Sometimes we hunt. Sometimes we trade. Some clans are good at trading."

  Ava raised her eyebrows. "You trade with other ogres?"

  "Sometimes," he said with a sly grin. "Not all ogres are bad at trading."

  Ava chuckled, then turned more serious. "Well, maybe you someone who could help me? You

  seem to know a lot about other clans."

  Ugraum’s expression shifted slightly, but it wasn’t entirely unreadable. "Maybe. Portals... tricky.

  I’ve heard of them... but no one really understands them. They come and go. It’s all about timing.

  And power."

  Ava’s thoughts raced. Could there be some kind of portal power in this world? Magic, maybe?

  Something she could harness?

  "So... you’re telling me there’s no chance for me to get back home?"

  Ugraum tilted his head, his tusked grin returning. "Not saying that. Just saying it might take

  time."

  Ava sighed, feeling the weight of her situation settling in again. "Great. Time. That’s exactly what

  I wanted to hear."

  Ugraum's expression softened, and he leaned forward. "Don’t worry. We find way. We figure out."

  Ava felt an odd warmth spread through her at his words. His confidence, his reassurance, made

  her believe him—made her believe that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as hopeless as they

  seemed.

  As night fell, she was provided giant leaves to make herself a bed. It didn’t look comfortable. She

  was wrong, though. The moment her head touched the leaves, Ava drifted off like a baby.

  * * *

  Morning sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, painting the forest floor in mottled

  gold. Ava stirred from her bundle of leaves near the dying campfire, blinking blearily at the

  rising sun and wondering, for what felt like the thousandth time, how she had ended up in this

  mad place.

  Right. Portal. Bandits. Ogres. Wild boar.

  And Ugraum.

  The ogre was squatting by the river that bordered their camp, shirtless, his broad back glistening

  as he scrubbed something large and vaguely furred—likely his trousers—with a chunk of pale,

  resinous soap. Ava watched longer than she meant to.

  “Morning,” he rumbled without looking. His voice was deep and gravelly, though not unkind.

  Ava jerked upright, heart skipping a beat. “Oh! Er—good morning. I didn’t realise you’d be, um.

  Bathing. Out in the open. Shirtless.”

  Ugraum turned slightly, giving her a glimpse of a very solid, very naked chest. “I do not feel

  shame,” he said simply. “Also, I stink. Water helps.”

  Ava couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped. “Well. Yes. That is... fair.”

  She rose, brushing leaves from her crumpled trousers and trying to smooth her blouse, which

  had lost the last vestiges of decency somewhere during the previous day’s bog crossing

  adventure.The idea of her own odour made her wince. “Would you, by chance, have room in that

  river for one more?”

  Ugraum paused, then tilted his head slowly. “You wish to bathe?”

  “I wish to not smell like burnt pig and moss rot. So yes.”

  He nodded solemnly, then reached behind a tree and tossed something her way. It landed near

  her boots with a damp thwack—a thick, woven cloth, surprisingly soft to the touch.

  “You cover with this,” he said, tone shifting a shade gruffer. “Ogre modesty is different. But... I

  will not look.”

  Ava’s cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t—! I mean—I didn’t think you would. Thank you.”

  She gathered the cloth and made her way to the far end of the river, where trees stooped low and

  the stones formed a crude, natural alcove. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder—true to his

  word, Ugraum had returned to his washing, now humming to himself. Loudly. Tunelessly.

  The water was freezing. Ava gasped out loud the moment it hit her skin, biting down on a squeal

  as she waded in.

  “Cold?” Ugraum called, still facing the riverbank.

  “No! I mean—yes! But I shall endure!”

  She dipped beneath the surface and came up spluttering, but oddly invigorated. She lathered her

  hair with the resin and sighed as the filth of two very long days began to lift. With the sunlight

  streaming through branches and the river’s gurgling lull, the moment began to feel almost

  pleasant.

  Until she slipped.

  Ava let out a most undignified shriek and vanished with a splash, resurfacing with a mouthful of

  river and her limbs flailing.

  Ugraum was at the river’s edge in an instant, eyes wide. “You fall? Are you harmed?”

  “I’m fine!” Ava managed, utterly mortified, clutching the cloth to her chest. “I slipped. The rocks

  are… mossy. And rude.”

  The ogre grunted, shoulders twitching. He tried. He really did.

  But then he snorted.

  “Mossy and rude,” he repeated, chuckling now. “You have many words. Very... fancy.”

  Ava rolled her eyes, wringing out her hair. “Well, we can’t all grunt meaningfully and punch trees

  to communicate.”

  Ugraum looked deeply interested. “You punch trees?”

  “I—no! That was a metaphor!”

  He considered this gravely. “Metaphor. Hm. Ogres do not use this word. You are a strange

  creature.”

  Ava smiled, despite herself. “You wouldn’t be the first to say so.”

  She finished scrubbing, then dried off behind the rocks, slipping back into her (mostly dried)

  clothes with what dignity she could muster. When she returned to the fire, hair damp and cheeks

  pink from more than the cold, Ugraum was stoking the embers and laying out more strips of

  meat.

  “Clean now?” he asked, glancing her way.

  “Cleaner than I’ve ever been while standing barefoot in ogre country,” she replied, settling beside

  him.

  They ate in quiet. Not a strained quiet, but one thick with flickering firelight and damp stillness.

  The tension had softened—perhaps scrubbed away by the river.

  After a time, Ava leaned back on her elbows and looked at him. “So… what now? Still no news of

  an expert on portals? A forgotten rift-temple with exactly the answers we need?”

  Ugraum grunted. “I sent scout yesterday. There are whispers. Several old ruins, east of here.

  Some say magic still leaks from the stones. But the place is cursed. Not safe. Not for you.”

  “Not for me?” Ava arched a brow. “Because I’m small and squishy?”

  “Because you are not from this world,” he said. “Old magic may not like you.”

  She tilted her head. “And yet you would go with me anyway?”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded once. “Yes. You are strange. But I like your

  strange.”

  Ava’s breath caught—but she didn’t look away.

  “I like your strange too,” she said softly.

  The fire crackled. Somewhere above, a bird let out a looping cry and flitted away into the trees.

  Ava’s world had turned inside out, yet she still felt something more than safety. More than mere

  curiosity.

  She felt—at last—a glimmer of belonging.