Free Good Curses Evil by Stephanie S. Sanders

late.
    A rosy red rash was blossoming on both her cheeks, not to mention her nose. The pink hue contrasted sharply with her ashy gray skin.
    â€œDon’t you think we should’ve found the road by now?” she asked, stepping carefully around another patch of sunlight.
    We had planned on spending the night hidden in the forest, then returning to the road again in the morning. However, Jez was right. It was taking us a lot longer to find it than it should have. I was about to suggest we try a different direction when I heard something.
    â€œWhat is that?” Jezebel asked.
    We both squinted into the forest.
    â€œI don’t know,” I answered. “I think it’s coming from over there.” I pointed toward a dense, overgrown hillock about thirty yards away.
    â€œIt sounds like some kind of animal chittering,” Jez said.
    â€œIt sounds like giggling to me,” I said.
    Suddenly, there was a deep moan followed by a thunderous splash, then more chitter-giggles. Jez and I exchanged nervous glances and moved forward cautiously.
    â€œThis is the part in the stories where trouble starts for the hero,” I said.
    â€œGood thing we’re not heroes.” Jez shot me a look. I couldn’t argue with that kind of logic.
    As we got closer to the hillock, I could make out the sounds more clearly. I heard a stream or small waterfall of some kind. There was definitely someone or some thing moaning as if in pain. The chittering animal sounds were more distinct too.
    Jezebel and I crept silently to the edge of the hillock and peered over. Beneath us a scene unfolded. A stream wound and bubbled around the base of the hillock. About twenty feet below us, it formed a deep, glittering pool before moving on around the hill and out of sight.
    Gathered around the pool were about a dozen little critters, each no bigger than my hand.
    â€œSprites!” I whispered.
    No two looked alike, and yet they all shared similar features. Some wore pointy hats made of acorns; others wore curling shoes adorned with tiny charms and bells. One was as thin as a string bean, another fat and stumpy. Yet all of them seemed as though they were formed from bits and pieces of the forest combined with mix-and-match animal parts like tusks or horns. The little sprites also had hands and feet, which made them look a little like people too. We watched as some of the tiny sprites hopped and skipped in a circle while turning a wooden crank attached to a rope.
    â€œWhat is that thing?” Jez asked, pointing at a much larger being dangling upside down from the rope.
    â€œIt’s one of those ogre creatures!” I said excitedly.
    â€œCapcaun,” Jez corrected.
    The beast’s skin was the color of rocks—gray and flecked. He wore only a pair of cut-off pants that might have been blue once, but had become faded and frayed. His doglike head hung just a few feet above the water. As we watched, the ogre whimpered in agony, anticipating what would happen next.
    Sure enough, the little creatures who had been cranking the rope stopped and, all at once, let go. There was a moment of complete silence. The sprites all stopped moving and chittering to watch the poor dog-headed ogre plunge headfirst into the pool. As soon as his head hit the water, the sprites erupted in fits of laughter. Then they hoisted the beast up and did it all over again.
    â€œWe should get back to the road,” Jezebel said. She didn’t seem to particularly care about the sprites or their captive, but I did.
    â€œNo way,” I said. “We have to capture that ogre to be my henchman!”
    â€œAre you serious?” Jezebel asked. “What could a capcaun do that you can’t?”
    â€œCapture a princess. You said yourself that’s what they do.”
    â€œIn legends , Rune,” said Jez. “In real life they probably whine and slobber and eat all your chocolate.”
    â€œYou are downright stingy with