“How are you doing that?” Mustafa asks the witch incredulously.
“Sweetie that ogress is going to be up here any second we can play twenty questions later.” The witch directs while pivoting her airbourne broom so that the brush is facing Mustafa. “Get on, now!” Mustafa can hear the ground shake under the charging ogress pursuing him. He tentatively straddles the broom which has barely enough room for both himself and the round witch. The broom turns in midair to face out over the cliff and Mustafa struggles to keep from falling off. “You need to hang on.” The witch admonishes.
“It’s hard to get a good grip on the broom.” Mustafa answers while wobbling on the broom.
“Not the broom silly, me. Hang on to me.” The lady leans forward pressing her hips back into to Mustafa. Mustafa tentatively reaches around her waist. “Don’t be scared dear, it's just a butt.” The witch smiles playfully at Mustafa as he wraps his arms around the woman tightly. She clicks her boots together and the broom goes zooming through the air over the cliff as fast as a diving falcon.
Mustafa grips even tighter trying not to look down at the rocks and river far down on the ground. He hears the frustrated hungry growl of the ogress who was chasing him up the hill. He dares not look back. The witch turns the broom swiftly back eastward. Mustafa looks up at the beautiful full moon and clouds nearby overhead seeing them from an angle he has never seen before. Out of the corner of his vision Mustafa sees a white dot on the ground up on a hill. As they get closer he realizes that it is a orange haired gracile Remo guard archer wandering around the dark ogress filled forest.
“Jason!” Mustafa calls out. “We have to go back for him.”
“There’s no room for him on the broom.” The witch shouts over the loud sound of passing air. “Besides, it's not safe to land until we get to my cottage.”
The witch’s broom begins to descend and a crosswind causes them to shake violently. Mustafa hangs on tighter. The vibration causes the plump old lady’s backside to jiggle next to Mustafa’s crotch. He realizes in deep embarrassment that his member is responding to this sequence of events by standing at attention and with the thinness of his uniform, the witch can almost certainly feel him.
The ground comes into sight beneath the clouds as they descend. Mustafa sees a modest cottage surrounded by a hedge of bushes. An array of colorful lights dance in the air as they pass over the line of hedges. The broom comes to a gentle hover right over the soft grass of the property. The woman calmly dismounts the broom and Mustafa leaps off of it, humiliated by his penis’ lack of discretion.
“It’s been years since I’ve said this to a man,” The witch says playfully with her hands on her hips. “Did you enjoy the ride honey?”
“I’m so sorr…” Mustafa begins to apologize.
“Oh don’t be, I'm just teasing. It’s just your nature and as a green witch, I don’t believe nature is something you have to apologize about.” She extends a gloved hand to Mustafa. “Sage Brewster.”
“Mustafa Abdul.” He responds, taking her hand gently. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Of course. I would hate to see such a handsome sweet boy become ogress food.” She pinches his cheek affectionately. She picks up her broom and sets it on the wall outside of her cottage. Mustafa looks around seeing the trees over the hedges and the top of the Remo sentinel watchtower far off in the distance.
“What is this place?”
“My home sweetie. This land has been in my family for generations.”
“It’s in the middle of the forest and there’s no wall. How do you keep ogresses out?”
“Those lights that you saw when we came in are a magical barrier. No one can set foot here except for Brewsters and our house guests.” She smiles hospitably at Mustafa. “Come on in dear, the barrier keeps out ogresses but not the cold.” She opens the door to her cottage and walks in Mustafa follows behind her. The modest home is lit by a fireplace and several candles. In the warm glow of the flames, Mustafa sees drying herbs hanging from the ceiling and several potions on a table and many three six foot high bookshelves full of books of a variety subjects from practical magic to history. Sage chuckles watching Mustafa gaze wide-eyed at the many volumes of books. “I’m quite a voracious reader. Books are my passion. Had Remo not banished all witches from its city I would probably be the head librarian.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Oh don’t be dear. You’re not responsible for everything your government does. You’re just a dutiful, strong, handsome, well endowed soldier man.” Sage slaps his chest playfully. Mustafa grimaces not knowing what to make of her comments. “I’m not making a pass at you, dear. I mean if a man like you came here 15 years ago…” Her voice trails off as her blue bespectacled eyes gaze off into some lurid memory. “Anyway my sex magic days are behind me so your wife has to worry about.”
“I’m not married.”
“Really? How old are you?”
“26.”
“My daughter Kat is 26 and single.”
“Ummm…”
“You have to forgive my bluntness. I had already met her father by time I was 22 and I had her at 24. She still hasn’t found anyone. Zinek has become so prejudiced of witches theses days. All these terrible stereotypes that people believe about us.” Mustafa thinks about all the stories that he had heard about witches in his life about how they were scarcely better than ogresses. And yet here he is and the first one he met saved his life. Sage continues. “I just want her to be happy and you seem like the sort of simple and kind man Arthur was.” She sighs nostalgically. “And anyways I can’t find her anyone as long as she’s in the Remo Dungeon.” The bereaved lady’s eyes begin to water. Not knowing what else to do he offers his arms to give her a hug. Sage gratefully obliges. “Ohh. Thank you. You really are like Arthur.” She says under sniffles. “Sorry to depress you dear, that's no way to treat a house guest.” She emerges from the embrace and turns toward her kitchen. “I’ll put on some water and make us some tea. Make yourself comfortable. Feel free to read anything in my library.”
Mustafa looks around at the enormous mountain of books. Two volumes on the shelves catch his eye. One of them is entitled
Practical Application of Enchanted Gems. The other is called
On the Origin of Ogresses. As Mustafa walks he bumps into one the tables and sees a notebook fall open. Picking it up he realizes it is Sage’s personal journal. Thinking briefly, Mustafa chooses what he wants to read.
