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Gydar discovered that the ogre camp was just barely that. An ecampment consisting of only four ogres. Three males and a female.
Only one of the males was awake, slowly gathering limbs and foraged resources into clumps.
The braided-haired female emerged into the early morning air. She stoked the fire heating the suspended cauldron. She moved back and forth from inside to outside her tent as Gydar waited patiently behind an oak tree.
The delicious stew had finally risen to a steady boil. The female did a double take of the surrounding area as Gydar ducked for cover. It would need to simmer. She retired to the tent, and the wiry knoll knew he had been granted his window.
He took his time. This was the dangerous part. He knew that if he wasn't absolutely sure when to act unto the point that he was willing to linger, even challenge the silence on some occasions, then he'd made a mistake. Confidence was essential in all matters concerning his legacy.
His grey matted fur approached the large boiling pot. He picked up the ladle and reached high for a dip. He slurped it quietly. He smacked and coughed. It was even better than he could have possibly imagined.
While he continued to carve out the path of bandit history, Fippy's beady eyes bore into the scene. He smiled. The infallible Gydar Briartrot had made a mistake. He hadn't covered his tracks, and Fippy had followed him unobserved using tactics that he had learned mostly from Gydar himself. The thought of the ogres tearing the little knoll limb from limb leaving only his pelt stretched across a tent tickled Fippy's imagination.
"Now I will waylay your endeavors Briartrot, just as you have done so to mine. Your time is over!" Fippy gave a high pitched howl that tore into the ears of every ogre in the camp.
The ladle dropped from Gydar's startled hands as his head whipped in Fippy's direction. A larger male ogre barreled into view carrying a club. A rumbling cry erupted as he swung to shatter Briartrot's frozen figure.
Gydar whipped into action, easily dodging the blow.
The female ogre emerged from her tent with a spear directed at Gydar's back. The first ogre launched his next attack. Briartrot was trapped between the two. Fippy tittered with anticipation.
The little knoll in the distance leaped and kicked off of the scalding iron cauldron in a miraculous acrobatic maneuver. The pot toppled over spilling brown viscous liquid onto the grass. The male ogre recoiled as some of the burning juices clattered upon his toes.
The female's attention was divided by the loss of her family's meal as Gydar shot down upon all fours, snarled, and snapped viciously at her feet. She sprang back just enough to give Gydar his opening.
The other two ogres bustled into view, but it was too late. Gydar was halfway to the oak tree, and by the time the ogres would make it that far, he would have found the boulders surrounding Blackburrow wherein they would never find him.
Fippy slammed his paw against the rocks hiding him from view. "Blast!"
He slumped his back to the stone, not without noticing something in the distance. Something that could only be the pointy ears and long snout of Gydar watching Fippy from a far. The head vanished into the maze of rocks just as fast.
Fippy was in for it now. This wasn't his typical erratic behavior, or mindless ranting. He had deliberately put the most beloved of the knolls into harm's way. He had really crossed the line this time. And not only that, but without a doubt Gydar would have gotten away with a flagon of ogre stew to share.
He would have evaded certain demise brought on by Fippy's traitorous actions, and had something to proffer his success. The females would go into heat. The elders would look proudly upon Gydar, and with malice upon Fippy. His reputation would be shot to the lowest of the low, not just for the time being, but in the history books for all to recount. The impending situation was duly unbearable. And then Fippy had an idea.