“Breeze, is a funny name for an ogre. How did you get it?” Fairy Tulip asked.
A squirrel was hopping over and back across his knees. Breeze made a funny face. The squirrel took fright and ran away.
Breeze said, “To answer that, we need to climb Lumpy Sugar Mountain.” He pointed into the distance.
“Let’s go,” Tulip said.
“Right. Can you zap us there?”
“No zapping. I will fly. You will walk.” Tulip said.
Breeze moaned.
One hour later, they were sitting on the side of the mountain. “I can’t see my favourite tree,” Breeze said.
“Let me help.” Tulip flicked her wand towards the trees. “Wait, give it a minute.”
Breeze counted. At sixty, he was rewarded. A rainbow volcano erupted from his favourite tree, showering the sky with sparkling, dancing lights. “Thanks, now I can see it,” he said and began his story.
Mum was nursing me outside our cave, the day after I was born. I was crying.
Two birds flew close to her, squawking, “make him stop. We will sing his name to him. What is his name?”
“He doesn’t have one yet, because an Ogre takes his name from whatever or whoever makes him smile, but he hasn’t stopped crying.”
“We know,” they said. They flew high and low about the baby ogre. They did everything, including tumbling upside down. The baby didn’t stop crying. The birds raised their wings to cover their heads. They flew away.
Mum told me that a breeze blew softly across the mountain tops. It drifted down to me. It danced across my toes and tickled its way up to my nose. I stopped crying. I smiled.
Mum smiled, “His name is Breeze.”
Tulip looked at him. “I don’t think that could be true.”
“It is. The breeze plays with me here. Can you not feel it? Wait.”
Tulip sat and waited.
Suddenly, she felt a light playful breeze tugging at her wings. It pulled her hair from its ponytail, tickled her nose and played with her skirt. She giggled.
The soft breeze worked its magic on her ogre friend. He laughed so much that he fell over and rolled down the mountain.