Extraordinarily Pleased

Not A Bad Idea

"Guys, Christmas Eve is next week. We're lost lost," Felicia huffed.

"That would've been nice when we first split up," Farkle mumbled to himself.

"Now, not so much," Fergus concluded.

The siblings had conquered the once-insurmountable task of finding one another, against quite considerable odds. The next hurdle - finding their way home - still eluded them, the ever-shrinking amount of time that remained to do so chipping away at their confidence.

Late in the afternoon, the ogres trod along yet another less-traveled path through yet another unfamiliar stretch of fields crunchy with frost. As indistinguishable as it was from so many other paths they'd crossed, they knew they had not yet come across this specific area; whether that was encouraging or not remained to be seen.

As they crested a hill, Fergus spotted a small, neglected merchant cart parked on the side of the road, nearly consumed by the great trees it was parked under. It was in desperate need of a new coat of paint, and more than a couple spokes in its wheels were snapped. He may have assumed it was long since abandoned, given its sorry state, except for candlelight glowing from the open service window, which also leaked through the gaps in its wood siding.

"Hey," Fergus pointed to the ramshackle rattletrap, causing the other two to pause beside him at the hill's peak.

"What about it?" Farkle replied, taking a longer look.

"Maybe we should... ask them for directions," Fergus offered casually, anticipating the others' less-than-casual reactions.

"Come on," Felicia dismissed, "we said we weren't gonna–"

"That was before we only had a week to get home." Fergus countered.

"But we're supposed to rely on our instincts," Farkle stated, perhaps a bit more defensive than he intended. "You know... tracking and–"

"And we've exhausted all of those," Fergus parried. "Look. I'm not exactly thrilled to ask for help, either. But do we keep wandering aimlessly for the next week? Or swallow our pride for a minute?"

"You really think some random shopkeep on the side of the road, wherever it is that we are, would know how to get back home?" Felicia asked him incredulously.

"Duloc," Fergus corrected. "Dad keeps the swamp off of public record, anyway. All we need's how to get back to Duloc, and we can circle around it. A traveling merchant out of anyone would know."

"And if they don't?" Farkle jabbed.

"Then it'd be like we hadn't asked at all, wouldn't it?" Fergus raised his brow snippily at Farkle. As he turned to continue down the hill's gentle incline, Felicia and Farkle rolled their eyes - the know-it-all was back.

Sensing his siblings' failure to join him, Fergus turned back around to their unconvinced faces. "You two can't still be stuck on being real ogres, can you?" he asked with mock accusation.

The two's caught-out expressions revealed that, yes, they had in fact still been stuck on that.

"No," Felicia finally declared, her eyes narrowing. She looked aside at Farkle briefly, who gave her a withering stare. "Fine," she offered Fergus, "You can go ask for directions, while we get started on dinner."

"Fine." Fergus gave them both a pursed smile as the three began their descent. As the ground leveled out, Farkle and Felicia pulled over to set up camp under the first tree, leaving Fergus to continue the hundred yards or so toward the cart.