Pest anguished over his decision of giving away Fanli's treasure. He hated it. He hated it. He hated himself for doing it. That was Fanli's and not his to give or sell. But he had to. No good would come of it. She'd transform or dragons and other hunters would take her head to get it. It was of no use to her, and he had no way of helping her otherwise.

There were so many excuses for doing what he did, but deep down he knew there was only the one—what he'd had to do to get it back. A week ago, he wouldn't have cared, but not today. He'd promised himself to be better, to stop sleeping around for Fanli's sake—for his own sake because it made him miserable. But with no magic or might or property, this was all he had to get her treasure back.

If she knew, she'd misunderstand—or worse, she'd understand it and all of the other lies would unravel.

Pest was quiet in getting to his own hiding place of money. Ironically, it was in the trunk of a tree. There wasn't much but it would do. If not for time being of the essence—he didn't want to leave her in this ogre lament business any longer than he had to—he was forced to buy the first dress he could find. It probably wouldn't fit her, he knew, but maybe it didn't have to. She'd obviously never worn the one the dragons had taken.

Several people took interest in him as he paid.

"Well, that's nice," said the shopkeeper. "Wen's sure to love this."

Without looking up from his item, Pest ignored the needling for more. For one, the old tailor's daughter kept her distance, looking broken hearted.

Pest didn't care. No, he hadn't known another one of his conquests lived and worked here and he didn't care. He certainly didn't concern himself with her curiosity as to who he bought a present for.

The tailor waited for Pest to say something. His daughter off to the side wrung her hands. How long was this interaction supposed to take normally? They had a dress; he had some coin. It seemed cut and dry.

"I'll have my daughter help you make any adjustments."

Pest picked his head up and watched the graying man's retreat. In seconds, a pretty face filled his world.

That cold, hollow feeling came back full force. It was far worse than the moment he'd rolled off her. What was her name? He couldn't recall.

Head hung as she smoothed the fabric out, she asked, "Who is the dress for?"

Pest didn't appreciate the wasting of his time—Fanli needed this.

"What business is that of yours?" He barely recognized his own voice.

She was also taken aback. "It would help me to know if it's—it's for your mother, or—"

"For the woman I love." The hollow came back, spreading all through him. He couldn't feel anything except for hate, but her disappointment did bring him some satisfaction. And that wasn't normal. He forced himself to change his tone. "It's a gift for a friend," he corrected. At her blush, he was sure to add, "But why is that important?"

Two beautiful red lips parted again and again. "I—for adjustments."

"Don't worry about the adjustments. Just take my coin and let me go."

When he put the money down, she tried to hold his hand and his emotions spiked.

The hate washing over him was total. She was stalling and Fanli needed him.

The door opened and someone stepped inside. It wasn't human if the woman's shocked expression was any indication.

A pair of large hands came down on the counter along with a large green bag of coin, more than ten times that of Pest's money. "Hello, miss," the ogre said. "I'd lik'to buy...a dress." The already wide brown eyes widened further when he said, "For an ogre."

It was a scoff at first, then a chuckle and finally, a laugh.

"I have coin," the ogre insisted.

The ogre's head was shaved save for a ponytail on top. But that wasn't all, he had a tattoo behind his right ear. Maybe that meant a rank worthy of respect. He didn't receive it, however, when the woman ignored him and set her sights on Pest once more.

Pest, in turn, snatched up the dress before she had time to make any more useless talk. The moment her lips parted, he turned on his heels and marched out—unsure if it was even enough money.

One disadvantage to his escapades with women showed itself almost daily—they clung to him stronger. Some went so far as to foolishly believe they had some claim to him. The more a woman sought to capture him, the more he longed to be free.

His walking through town with something in his hand shouldn't have been news, and yet...it was.

He broke into a run in an effort to get home to Fanli faster.

The moment he sat down and put a dress into Fanli's hands, she quieted.

Pest sighed with relief. He even allowed himself the embrace she sought from him, something he longed for as well.

The full feeling was back, stronger than ever, and it burned through him.

When she clung to him, she took all air from his body. He felt whole in her presence but then, he felt whole in everyone's presence before he'd share them physically and lose all interest.

Even her embrace was so innocent. She wanted nothing from him. At least, she hadn't. His parents' interaction with her was sweet, he'd thought. Catching the chicken brought laughter along with Father's complaints, which was rare. And Fanli didn't show disgust at seeing how bare his house was, or that he slept on hay, as Wen had last year. And they'd stroked and petted each other in a gentle fashion until she'd asked those terrible words.

"How did you know my treasure was a dress?"

Loving the feel of her taut body against his, Pest paused in stroking her arm. His heart hammered to life.

In his panic, he said something foolish. "I—hadn't you told me?"

Fanli said nothing for some time. Finally, she muttered, "I suppose—I suppose I might have. But—"

He kissed her to get her to quiet. That would only calm her thoughts for a moment, but what he said next would throw her off guard. It was equally stupid.

"We'll try offering some of your treasure to my father. What do you think? And if he agrees, let's...you can come here for a time. You never have to worry about getting kicked out again."

She didn't speak after that. In fact, beyond snuggling closer to him, they merely enjoyed one another's embrace.

It was heaven, even if granted by a terrible lie—his father'd never approve—but for the rest of the night, he let himself fantasize about waking up with her in his arms each day.

As impossible as that was, he longed for it. So, to find himself in front of an empty table the next morning with her at his side, he was in a free-fall and it was one worse than if he had fallen down those steps.

He wasn't sure when they'd dressed and come out here—he'd been dazed all morning. His father stood on the other side of the table and Pest steeled himself for the insults to come.

What he hadn't expected was for the man to silently sit.

Fanli was the first to take a hesitant step and reach her chair from the night before.

"You—hav'a lovely home," Fanli lied.

Father flopped back. Pest scanned the room.

Before he could ask, his father said, "She insisted on getting the breakfast this time." He wrinkled his brow. "But I'm not sure where she'll find a baby this early in the morning." The door flew open, and he smiled. "Ah. But she is always so efficient. Behold."

Sure enough, as promised, the human-sized fairy fluttered in, a basket in hand. She set it down on the table with a rather pleased smile on her face—the woman beamed brightly.

Pest took her in. This was her color—joy. People thought fairies created the thing their color signified, but instead, they sought it—beathing in it and collected it whenever possible.

A time or two, Pest had heard about fairies that follow lust. When he'd asked about it, fearful that his escapades were being observed by beings he could not see while human, his father corrected his confusion.

Not lust. Because lust was something common and cheap to the Fae. But affection. Much like genuine love fueled ogre treasure, so too fairies craved it. With that, Pest carried on going from woman to woman without a care because simply put, there was no love or affection to share with those women. Not until now.

Now he had it, and it didn't embarrass him, not for the reasons Fanli thought. And he didn't want to hide it from the Fae; he was proud. But that pride swelling up inside him came at a price. Because much like ogres feared losing their treasure to hunters, Pest feared losing his to hubris.

Moments after his mother's arrival, they all sat, the closed basket in the center of the table. Pest noticed something. He waited but there was no food for him.

His actions prompted his mother to realize it as well. Her hands flew to her mouth and she gasped. "I've forgotten to get you food again. Oh, Pest, you cannot partake in emotion...."

Unsurprisingly, Father let out a haggard breath. "Oh, blast this human child. You're so much work, even after seventeen years, you still require sustenance from us? All other creatures would have learned to hunt by now." He flopped back, arms folded. "Well, I am not going to look for it. One day will surely not make you perish."

In truth, Pest was famished, but when his eyes settled on Fanli who looked between them, something was different about today. They held hands under the table. Little by little, all semblance of hunger withered away.

A growl tore through Pest's joy.

"Very well." Father sat up. "I will go and search a bush for something."

"No." All fell silent and Pest hesitated then found himself saying, "Why don't we all go together?" The way his parents looked between them was a concern. It brought him back to reality. Fanli was an ogre...and being seen with one wasn't acceptable. Sobered on many levels, Pest found himself loosening his hold.

But it was Fanli who pulled away.

That action surprised him. He opened his mouth to explain himself, at least if it was a lie, but lost the chance due to her scrutiny of the basket.

"There's...." Fanli picked her head up and asked Mother directly, "There's not a baby inside here, is there?"

Mother's eyes lit up. She grinned wide. "That can wait." Her eyes darted from Pest to Fanli and back again. "So...how was your night? Did you enjoy it?"

Father scoffed and Mother turned to slap his shoulder as she laughed.

"Matax. You're awful."

Fanli's eyes widened. Her lips parted and speech failed her. All she could manage was, "Sorry?"

Mother snickered again but managed to feign sober composure as she turned and asked Fanli once more. "Did he give it to you?"

At Father's actual laugh that time, Fanli's expression fell. Pest took them in, tempted to let them carry on with their teasing.

Fanli's expression was what led Pest to clarify. "It's not what you think."

"Huh?" Fanli looked to him for help. "But—"

"Honest. It's not that. It's never that. No matter how much it sounds like that. It's not what you think."

It took some time for Fanli's tense shoulders to relax. "Oh."

Mother asked Pest next, "So...did you give it to her with...care?"

Father's laugh erupted so suddenly that Pest flinched.

Fanli, frown now total, struggled to regain her composure.

Pest thought to assure her but for the first time, he...wasn't exactly sure he was wrong.

"It'll likely give her a bellyache even now," Father snickered to his wife.

"Only the belly? That's generous."

Both of them laughed, leaving Pest utterly mortified. Were they speaking of this in earnest?

"You can just imagine her now," Father whispered to his wife, "down on the ground, begging—"

Pest slammed his fist down on the table so hard the room hummed. The remnants of a blue wave of energy dissipated.

They all shut up. He wasn't sure what was happening. This hurt too much for him to even talk.

Fanli's hand on his shoulder did nothing to calm him. In fact, it upset him more.

"Pest, it's okay. It's not what you think. You were right."

She was naïve and more than a little innocent. Of course, she'd believe his stupid words.

"What kind of parents talk about their son this way?" Pest demanded.

"Pest...." Mother's haunted expression made her resemble a ghost. "It was an honest question."

But as she spoke, Pest gripped his fist tighter. This hurt. Her defense of it hurt.

"Pest. It's all right. You really were right. If you'll just calm down, I can explain. I think I understand it now."

Father watched them; at least he was quiet.

Pest never felt as awful as the moment Fanli helped him to sit back as she attempted to defend his scum parents.

He hated the way Fanli forced a smile and asked them, "Are you talking about the chicken?"

Still horrified, Mother focused on her and nodded.

The chicken.

Pest repeated the mocking words they had said but none of it fit.

"Pest...." Fanli drew his focus. "Gifts from fairies to ogres tend to...rot."

Rot?

That word concerned him. "What?"

Fanli glanced from him to his parents then back again. "I think they were expecting that if I ate that chicken, I'd be filled with some stomach pain."

This wasn't helping in his parent's defense. "And why would that be funny?"

At first hesitant, Fanli confessed, "It would...have an ogre running for a bush, that's all."

Pest was confused until the visual came to him. By then, he could more than see his parents laughing at Fanli's expense.

Father folded his arms. "It's just a thing with fairies."

"But...." Pest felt helpless when he asked. "But why?"

All eyes gravitated to Fanli who sported a look of dread. She cleared her throat. "I don't want to offend—"

"Oh, offend, dear ogre. We don't mind!" Mother exclaimed.

Pest appreciated that Mother was always fast in recovering from surprise.

Fanli finally gave in to the pressure. "Well, it's not just gifts from fairies, it's from everyone. A gift—a true treasure is something given unselfishly. But even food, when someone gives it, it's likely tinged with obligation, or...or with the self-serving need for praise, or even the desire to keep someone alive due to a sense of possession or love. Therefore, all gifts like these, once in the grip of an ogre, will rot. But fairies...theirs rot faster. Very fast."

A feeling of unease spread through Pest. He'd meant to say something in defense of his parents but Mother echoed Fanli's sentiment with a nod and added, "Because fairies are selfish beings. Few can ever give anything without an agenda. That is why we must seek out joy or affection from other creatures. Rarely can we give it on our own." She at least sounded pensive when she told Fanli, "We are very sorry, ogre. At least breakfast and such doesn't count as a gift, right? So you can enjoy our food with us. Forgive us."

Father still sat with his arms folded as he grumbled, "What did you think we meant, human child?"

Pest's body lost all feeling.

Now he was unsure...about all of it. Something else lingered in the back of his mind. "Does," he hesitated but looked Fanli in the eye and asked, "does that apply to every gift?"

Fanli smiled with her nod. "Every gift. All things presented as gifts. So, sometimes, like those fairies taunted the troll by writing on him as he slept, fairies might offer ogres fruit as a gift and, well.... You can imagine."

Pest could.

"Sorry," Mother said, a hint of joy lining her somber voice. "We hadn't even thought about it until this morning. That is why I went to get this. Surely, I'm a much more reliable gifter than grumpy ole Matax. Correct?"

All eyes gravitated to the basket but no one touched it. Pest worried for it as well.

False joy.

False declarations....

False gifts.

Gifts.

Pest found himself in need of some assurances. Before Fanli could reach for the basket, Pest caught her hand. His action surprised his parents but he didn't take them back as he turned her to him. "Fan, is...is that rot thing sudden? Instantaneous?"

Panic.

It was a slow build at first, but it came rushing at him now faster and faster.

Fanli's look of confusion had Pest scrambling for an excuse. "Um, because remember what we did with the chicken...?" He prayed she'd focus on that and not realize he was speaking of her new dress.

"Hmm'n," Fanli said, shaking her head. "That's the thing about gifts, it sometimes takes a moment to rot in our touch. Especially if we want them to last. But eventually they will."

Pest's heart pounded. It beat so hard and fast it echoed in his ears. "And...they glow first?"

Fanli narrowed her brow. "I don't think so."

But as she spoke, Mother brimmed with anticipation. "Well, go on, ogre. You'll surely be impressed. Look at my gift to you!"

The moment Fanli turned to comply, Pest felt cold like an abandoned animal cast out into a hurricane.

It'd be all right, he told himself. It had to be. The dress glowed immediately. And even this morning, it just glowed brighter.

Thoughts of last night had Pest filled with dread. Everything had been perfect. Yet he felt it all slipping from his grip. He was losing this. But he had to hold on.

"Go on," Mother insisted.

Fanli hesitated then opened the lid. What she bore witness to had her gasping. "Oh no."