Chapter One

Ophelia

Ribbit. Rrrr-ribbit.

"Hop off that stump, you nosy amphibian!" I barked through the door of the outhouse. "Geez," I grumbled, "Doesn't anyone know that it's impolite to disrupt another's privacy?"

I stood up, pulled up my bottoms, and washed up. I threw open the door in the frog's mucus-coated face with a splat. "Why do you always loiter near the outhouse?" I grumbled down at it as it limped out.

The frog puffed out its sack.

"You want to mate?" I raised an eyebrow. "Well, I've got bad news for you, Frog," I shook my head. "I'm a straight-A student in princeology. You can't trick me."

The frog deflated with the disappointing whimper of a balloon losing its air.

I mounted my broomstick and took off. "Time to cause some trouble," my eyes gleamed above a grin.

The slightly cloudy blue sky arched over me, and the rolling, rocky green hills were just below my feet.

I saw my first victim for magical mischief—and my breakfast. I summoned the early bird's picnic basket and helped myself to his sandwich on the fly. I threw the basket at a younger witch. "Enjoy the rest of the food."

And there was another kid around—my next victim. Judging by her excessively sunny disposition, she was part of that picnic I ruined. Time to rain on her parade. I conjured up a small storm cloud and cast it over her head.

The girl started crying as the fat droplets splattered her dress, and ran away screaming.

Cackling, I flew away. I soared through the trees and to the river, sending bluebirds and squirrels scattering frantically. When I skimmed my leather-booted toes through the water, the unlucky fish near the surface who looked up at me swam away, their fins a blur. I flew up a few feet and did tricks on my broom, standing upon it and rolling it over. I did a U-turn and flew back, straight to the witch's settlement of Crone's Nest, the place I called home. I went past the river to its dam, then to a stretch of grass beyond the dam. Gradually, the grass dried and shortened into a wide, dusty dirt path.

Crack. A large foot snapped a thick log in two.

I froze in midair and zipped behind a tree. Who was this?

A creature the size of a griffin loped down the path. It was covered in crimson scales, had matching bat-like wings, and large green eyes that stared blankly in both directions. Definitely a dragon, though a funny-looking one.

A saddle was strapped around its middle, and a round gray tabby cat sat upon its back. The cat wore a feathered hat, boots, épée, and a cobalt-gray tabard trimmed in gold, like one worn by a Musketeer.

A harness looped around the dragon's muzzle and its reins trailed down into the square green hand of a young ogress. If her face wasn't wide-eyed and spotted with pimples, I would've assumed she was full-grown. She was already six feet tall; she had to be at least fifteen.

A dragon? An ogress? A sword-wielding cat? Heading to Crone's Nest?

"Uh oh," I muttered as I burrowed into the branches. If the other witches found these intruders, they wouldn't be happy.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Felicia?" The cat turned to the ogress.

"It'll be fine, Timmy," Felicia gave a light chuckle with a Scottish accent. "They've never bothered me family, we've never bothered them, I'm quite sure we can get along."

"But they might take over our whole mission to restore darkness and excitement to Far Far Away!" Timmy held out a paw. "I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I am smart enough to know that those witches will walk all over us because their kind created yours!"

That was true. Witches got a little too close to frogs, and ogres were born.

"After all the trouble the Fairy Godmother put our kinds through," Felicia pushed back stray strands from her loose ponytail, "Who created whom won't matter that much."

"But what if they turn us into frogs?" Timmy clutched his plump cheeks. "You may not see that as a big deal, being part frog and all. I, on the other paw—"

"Watch it," Felicia seized the dragon's reins and pulled it away from bumping its snout into an oak tree.

These guys wanted to "restore darkness and excitement to Far Far Away?" And charging in here to do it? Someone had to tell them they couldn't just barge in. And I had to be the one to do it.

I flew out of the tree and landed in front of them. "What are you three doing around Crone's Nest?" I dismounted.

"We don't mean any trouble," Felicia raised her hand. "Well, we sort of do, but—it's awfully hard to explain…"

"Explain it to the High Witch," I blasted explosive red sparks in the air. "Intruders here ought to have reasons for coming in."

Baba Yaga flew towards us in her barrel-sized mortar and pestle, rowing the mortar with her pestle like she was rowing a canoe. She halted her mortar, laid down the pestle, climbed out of the mortar, and stumped towards us, the pale green wart of her protuberant nose sticking right at me. "Ophelia Willow Postington," her eyes narrowed, "I saw you sent the alarm."

"I wanted to let you know we've got intruders," I pointed to the group.

"Do you know who these creatures are?" Her eyes followed my finger. "What are they doing here?"

"I just met them myself," I replied. "I have no clue what's brought an ogress, a cat, and a…" I looked at the strange hybrid creature. "Dragon-donkey to Crone's Nest."

"Well, excuse me," the ogress stepped in. "I'll take care of introductions. I'm Felicia, this is my dronkey, Bananas, and this is my cat, Timmy."

"Which is short for Sir Timoteo Montenegro III!" the cat bowed low with a sweeping doff of his hat. "It is a pleasure to meet both of you ladies." He took my hand in his white paw and gave it a scratchy kiss, then he did the same to Baba. "Enchante."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," she withdrew her hand. "But why have you all come here?"

"We came here because I want to unite our kinds," Felicia explained. "Bring back the darkness to let real stories be told. The little ogres at the swamp are getting so bored with the same bland stories told again and again."

The little witches here could relate. There were only so many times you could tell Hansel and Gretel before the gingerbread house grew stale.

"But why do you care so much about us?" Baba pointed to herself and me. "Witches and ogres don't usually get along thanks to the Fairy Godmother forcing my kind to exile yours."

"Well, at first I was just thinking of my own kind," Felicia shrugged. "I'm one of few ogres to have a full childhood with my family now that my dad's brought the ogres together from their exile. He's Shrek, the ogre hero," her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of green. "I found out that you had similar struggles. So, I thought, because of that and witches chasing ogres into exile, maybe we can try to—get back together? Try to forgive?"

"But why are you here at this settlement?" Baba raised her wrinkled, pale green chin to look into Felicia's eyes.

"Geography, mostly," she scratched behind her head. "But as your witches don't have a problem with the swamp a few miles away, I thought I could ask you for a…representative. An ogress can't ally witches to her kind without a witch to help her."

"Hmm," Baba tucked a strand of wild white hair behind her drooping ear. "I shall gather the council to discuss this. Felicia, you and your friends should join us."

Oh boy. Now those intruders would have to give a speech in front of everyone.