A club landed in Pest's hand. He'd never held one before. A glance across from him to Fanli's father who paced back and forth with a club of his own had Pest swallowing hard.

The ogre was old. Still able to snatch a human up and swallow him, perhaps, but old. Even the way he moved wasn't as fast as others.

He also had the bigger club. Pest guessed this one he held belonged to Fanli's mother. If the cracks and scratches were any indication, the ogress had used it well in their marriage.

That knowledge would be of little help as Pest tore his eyes away from his opponent and whispered to Lowgli on his right, "He doesn't stand a chance."

Lowgli also eyed Fanli's father. "Correction. You don't stand a chance. He's still a damn good fighter. But he's only got one wife so maybe he's got an injury. But you can't hurt him on it if you find it—it's poor form."

"Poor form?" Pest couldn't believe this absurdity.

"Oh, and remember that place on Fan's neck that you're so fond of, yours is below the stomach—"

"Obviously."

"No. Your spots are below your stomach. Get hit there, and you don't get back up. So don't hit him there. It's the fighting style of a coward—he'll never respect you."

As discretely as Pest could, he shoved some of the loincloth down and ran his hand above his groin. He felt nothing until he reached his belly button. Fanli's spots went from side to side while Pest's traveled down. They were tender. He took less comfort in knowing Lowgli was on his side—in a sense—than knowing he could not only injure, or perhaps kill this aged ogre by mistake, but humiliate him as well.

"You don't have to do this," Lowgli said at length.

It came so uncertain that Pest glanced at him. He also made the mistake of searching the crowd for Nali who wore a look of woe and fear.

"If I don't," Pest said, "you have to. I get it."

"No." Lowgli hesitated. "No. I don't mind the second wife. But Fan would; she doesn't want me. I don't think she even wants an ogre."

His words stunned Pest into shock.

"So survive this," Lowgli told him, meeting his gaze, "then reverse your wish and let her use the treasure to become human."

Pest's lips parted until his mouth hung open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"But the wish has already been done."

Fanli's father, impatient, advanced.

"This is ogre treasure. Think of it like a cloak. Nothing can tamper with it, but it can be reversed and used again. If they know the original wish."

At this, Pest thought of Nali. "Well, why would you put the treasure in her nose if someone could take it and use it again."

"What?" Lowgli leaned back, insulted. "It means I can protect her. It's just symbolic. She'll take it off after she comes to my home for the first time. The longer she has it in, the greater the danger, so don't drag this out."

A battle cry came with a slow advance. Fanli's father struck true but both Lowgli and Pest jumped apart.

Fanli's father lumbered toward him again. Pest avoided this strike as well. A cheer came from the crowd but by the third time he dodged a possible blow, he noticed a problem.

It was tiring. Fanli's father used all his might with each strike and missing his target not only frustrated him, but wore him out. By the forth dodge, Fanli's father huffing and puffing as he growled, laughter erupted.

Pest had never seen a male ogre embarrassed, but he knew the tell-tale signs of it from how shy Fanli usually was.

Instead of putting his focus squarely on Pest, Fanli's father scanned the crowd. He looked ready to give up. Perhaps thoughts of his daughter forced him to carry on. The next time the ogre charged, Pest readied himself. He did something stupid—he let the club strike him in the arm.

The blow was mighty. Red and white colored Pest's usual rosy viewpoint. It came with a cheer, however, and a look of satisfaction on Fanli's father's face.

Lowgli, on the other hand, was horrified. "Are you all right!" he asked.

Surprisingly, Pest was. He didn't really feel much.

The next strike against his chest tore a wince from the crowd but Pest recovered without trouble—really, it barely made an impact. He was back on his feet.

Pest wasn't sure what was happening, and neither was Fanli's father who looked down at his club then Pest, confused.

"His magic's too strong," someone said.

Another laughed, "Give up, old one. He's too young and strong. You'll break your club!"

The more they laughed, the more Fanli's father drew up his shoulders.

Pest puzzled over their words. Magic. An ogre's magic was their muscles. But why did Pest have magic enough to sustain himself against an ogre this big?

In the blink of an eye, he understood.

His wish.

He had latened fairy magic but that probably wasn't it. It must have been the wish, and if that was the case, this ogre was never going to find victory.

Strike after strike thereafter had the same results. Each time, Pest found himself pitying Fanli's father—he looked so determined.

Pest even tried not moving but that brought greater laughter and a worse scowl from the ogre opponent.

"What are you doing? Fight back!" Lowgli chided.

"But—but how?" Pest stared a head but asked him, "How do I stop this?"

Lowgli hurried to him and said, "One of you must tire. But you don't want this man giving up his daughter. There is no honor in that."

Pest considered those words as Fanli's father, now glistening in sweat, drew ragged breaths. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Fanli's father gritted his teeth, raised the club with both hands, and charged. He struck Pest across the chest, then the back, then the knee. Pest resolved to fall but noticed too late when a knee came to his face. That would have been the concern if a fist didn't punch him below the navel.

"That...." Pest toppled over, in genuine agony. "Bastard...." He wheezed.

Crouched on the ground, Pest thought to clutch his gut but the guilt of Fanli's father's gaze forced him to resist bringing attention to the injury to his underbelly. At least the ogre was sorry.

"Get up!" someone cheered.

"Kick him in the head."

"Finish it already."

Pest waited for that kick but it never came. He risked looking up at Fanli's father again and saw the palpable shame as the man wrung his club in both hands. Pest understood; the ogre's own actions had shocked him.

"He's down but no blood?" someone remarked.

This was not good. Eventually they'd understand why.

"Get up," Lowgli begged.

But Pest couldn't. Much like Fanli's body'd locked up, Pest was no better. He now understood why this was a dirty move—an ogre was rendered helpless.

Each attempt to move aggravated the pain.

"Dirty move?" a voice whispered.

And then the murmurs began.

"Shit." Pest fought through the blinding agony and rolled over onto his hands and knees. His body trembled. It took everything in him, and a great deal of staggering, for him to rise up.

All fell silent, then a cheer erupted.

Lowgli rushed him, holding his back. "Can you continue?"

Pest couldn't. Even to stand was a chore.

"You can stop. There are ways to take down an ogre and leave his pride. You—you can stop. I'll take your place."

"Take my place...." Pest repeated those words to himself and felt at peace. What was he doing here? He'd thought he'd known. A part of this was for fun, like some ridiculous ceremony he'd fallen into. But it wasn't a game, certainly not to Fanli's father, and Pest reminded himself why.

Fanli.

"If I win, what happens?" Pest asked.

Lowgli looked at him as if he were stupid, "You take his daughter—"

"She doesn't even have a say."

"She doesn't get a say. Not with him being this careless."

It wasn't carelessness that drove Fanli's father to this, Pest knew. It was pride. But behind the worried gaze was something else, genuine devotion. This old ogre had given it his best. He didn't want to lose, not to a tusk-less ogre.

In that instance, Pest realized something, too, he didn't want to lose either. It would hurt both of them, but he didn't care. There wasn't much of a choice anymore.

Pest reached down for his club. At this rate, and this pain level, he wasn't going to remain standing much longer.

Teeth gritted, he clutched the weapon and resolved to make a strike. Maybe a good one to the head would knock Fanli's father out and he could go down in some glory, but Pest wasn't about to lose.

A problem arose when Pest charged, Fanli's father simply stared at him, shamefaced.

Pest hated him for it but kept on. Unsure of his strength, Pest resolved to try to be gentle. Maybe the old ogre would feign injury and fall at the right time.

Club raised, Pest fought through the pain and lunged.

A knee caught him in the face, then a fist came at him, right below the bellybutton.

The wail to come from Pest rivaled any birthing mother. He toppled over.

All fell quiet.

"This family...."

"It's true they don't care for law."

"They don't like ogres; that's why."

"She's just like the other one."

Pest's body trembled but he found the strength to look up to see his attacker.

Fanli stared down at him, fists clenched, ready to strike again. She stood before her father, tears in her eyes.

Each huffing breath she took had her body shaking.

The first to speak was Lowgli's father, who told his son, "Don't you dare take that one. A female who'd hit a male like that. Don't you dare."

One tear fell but Fanli didn't back down. Her father at her back looked small—no doubt he felt it.

Pest's body cried out.

He could hardly move but he rolled onto his belly. That was an excruciating agony like no other. With one deep breath, he tucked his hands close. After another, he used them to brace himself then pushed up.

If the crowd's awed reaction was any indication, he was not only impressing himself. Getting to his feet in that moment was the worst experience of his life.

Finally, he managed. The silence that time spoke less of admiration and more of fear.

Pest was unsure how to proceed.

Lowgli inched closer, though he himself looked rattled. "Make her submit and you can end this."

Submit.

Even to turn his head and focus on Lowgli made the pain rip through him. But he certainly went numb with Lowgli's next words.

"Just...backhand her. It doesn't have to be hard."

Pest blinked at him.

Standing, he could take in the awed faces fully. His bigger worry was Fanli and her disgraced family.

The thought of walking was already making Pest's eyes sting, but he willed one foot to move.

He wasn't sure how he managed it, but it certainly had everyone whispering.

The second step was equally as shaky. In time, Pest reached Fanli who stared through him, doing nothing to mask her upset. She did, however, steel herself.

Pest wanted to fall on top of her to rest, not do what was required of him.

The crowd waited; Fanli's parents kept their heads down.

After sucking in a deep breath, Pest raised his hand. It fell again and Fanli flinched. Pest paused short then stroked her cheek instead.

For Pest, he hoped the play would calm her but instead, she stepped back, an action that had murmurs flying.

"Useless ogress," someone spat.

"Leave her with the humans."

"Just like her sister."

Fanli drew more ire and disgust when she turned to usher her parents away.

Pest wasn't sure what to make of it. He didn't know why, but Fanli's father glanced at him once then looked away.

Something caught in Pest's hand. He didn't register it until he followed his grip to see he'd caught hold of Fanli. She trembled. And she would have walked away if Pest didn't tighten his hold.

This felt right. It felt strange, but right and he dragged her to him. Her wince was genuine but accompanied a muffled sound as she resisted.

No matter how much she twisted and turned, and it was a sincere effort, Pest was too tired to carry on. Instead, he found himself falling forward. When their foreheads met, she calmed.

Her body was still tense, but he waited.

Pest didn't know, nor did he care, of the meaning when she finally tucked her face in his collar. One grunting cheer, one single cheer came from Lowgli. Then another. It picked up in time until the ogres stomped in concert.

With that, Pest risked letting go. He had a bigger problem.

"I'm gonna drop," he whispered to Fanli.

Maybe she heard, maybe she didn't.

But Pest certainly heard Lowgli say, "And this is your offering."

"What? What offering," Nali's father demanded.

"Dragon bait. This is the fairy."

A sterile silence followed after that, but Pest didn't care, he was already crumbling to the ground.