The thick mists of the swamp clung to the trees like ghosts unwilling to leave. As the group approached the village, the scent of damp earth and unfamiliar flora grew stronger. Unlike the sprawling cities they had passed, this place was humble—primitive, even—but strangely alive. Towering wooden logs formed a rough perimeter around the village, their tops carved with symbols that looked like a cross between runes and claw marks. The entrance had no gate, just two upright logs and a long stretch of swampwater road.
Past the gate, the ground became more stable—wooden planks stretched like walkways between muddy huts built from woven reeds and dark, bloated swampwood. The huts sat atop stilted platforms, each with an overhanging straw roof that kept the moisture at bay. Beyond, fields of swamp crops—bubbling mushrooms, thick water-rooted rice, and oversized lily-gourds—swayed under the haze of evening.
Deserter held up a hand to slow their pace, the girl still clutching his arm as if her life depended on it. Her wide eyes scanned the alien homes with a mix of fear and wonder.
"What is this place?" Overon muttered, his voice low.
"Ogre village, I guess," Deserter replied.
Their hulking escort led them through the village, waving at curious onlookers—ogres of various shapes and sizes, most of them wearing patchwork clothing that looked lovingly hand-stitched. Children peeked out from behind their parents' legs, some bold enough to wave.
Deserter noticed the girl was still quiet. Since the ogre encounter, she hadn’t said much. Maybe she was overwhelmed. Maybe she just didn’t have words.
"You alright?" he asked quietly.
She nodded quickly. "Just… never been anywhere like this."
"Name's Shu, by the way," the ogre said suddenly, turning toward them with a grin.
"Shu?" Overon echoed. "That's it?"
Shu scratched the back of his head. "Well, it's short for Shurkrakabar, but uh… my friends call me Shu."
Deserter raised an eyebrow. "Shur...kra...ka...bar.... Right. Shu it is."
They shared a brief, awkward laugh.
An older ogre approached from one of the central huts. He was barely half Shu's height, though still taller than Deserter or Overon, with wrinkled gray skin that looked like crumpled parchment. He carried a long wooden staff and leaned heavily on it, his tusks dulled and his eyes sunken but sharp.
"Visitors, Shu?" the elder rasped, voice like sand on stone.
"Yes, Chief. Found 'em on the road. Their horse passed from fright when it saw me."
The old ogre squinted. "Poor beast."
Shu stepped aside, gesturing toward the group. "This here's Deserter, Overon, and, uh... well, we actually don't know the little one's name."
The girl blinked. "Oh. Um… I don’t have one."
Silence passed between them.
Deserter looked down at her. "Then it’s time you had one."
Overon smirked. "Well, she’s clingy, stubborn, and surprisingly brave. Diana?"
The girl tilted her head. "Diana?"
Deserter nodded. "It fits."
She smiled faintly. "Okay. Diana, then."
The elder ogre gave a toothy grin. "Welcome, Diana. You all may stay the night. We will prepare some food. Shu, see to their needs."
"Yes, Chief!"
Over the next few days, the group remained in the village. Diana slowly warmed up to the ogres, though she still hid behind Deserter when children ran up to her. Shu introduced them to his family—his mate, a towering ogress named Muga who insisted on feeding them constantly, and their two children, twin ogrelings who chased each other around the fire pits.
They learned that this clan of ogres were different from the ones in stories. Shu explained it over a shared meal one night, where the group sat in a circle by a glowing fire in a nearby field, the light reflecting off the thick swamp fog.
"We ain't monsters," Shu said simply, skewering a large hunk of roasted meat on a bone. "We're swampkin. A subspecies, y'see. Bit smarter. Bit nicer. Don’t go rampaging unless we got good reason."
"You live out here on purpose?" Overon asked.
Shu nodded. "City folk don’t like us. So we built our own place. Grow our own food. Hunt our own monsters. We got pride, y'know?"
They were eating a grilled swampfish monster—something that looked like a catfish crossed with a snake, fat as a barrel and cooked with herbs that made the skin glisten. The taste was unexpectedly rich and buttery.
Diana wrinkled her nose at first. "It smells weird."
She took a bite.
Her eyes lit up.
"Okay. It’s weird, but it’s delicious."
Shu laughed, slapping his knee. "Told ya!"
The fire crackled, and for a moment, the air was filled only with chewing and the distant sound of swamp insects.
"You said you knew of other villages on the way to the city?" Deserter asked.
"Aye. If you follow the marsh path west, there’s a riverfolk trading post. Beyond that, the dry trail heads to a human outpost. Might wanna avoid it though—guards there don't like demonfolk much."
Deserter nodded slowly. "Good to know."
They spoke late into the night, exchanging stories. Shu told tales of swamp beasts and cursed reeds, while Overon shared exaggerated accounts of their journey so far. Diana sat between them, eating quietly, sometimes asking questions with wide-eyed curiosity.
When the fire dimmed, Shu stood, stretching. "Y’all sleep here. I’ll be back in the mornin’. Gotta tend the fields."
He left them with extra blankets and a few dried snacks wrapped in leafcloth. The trio settled in for the night, under the stars that glimmered faintly through the misty canopy.
Diana curled up beside Deserter, already dozing off.
Overon watched her for a moment. "She’s not what I expected."
Deserter looked down at her. "Neither was I."
In the morning, the village gathered to see them off. Shu handed them a map drawn on beast-hide, with crude but reliable directions. Muga gave Diana a small carved wooden charm shaped like a toad. The twins waved enthusiastically.
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