“The librarian in Cochem Kingdom can be a little absent-minded. I’ll send a message to tell him you’re coming. What’s your name?” William held his breath, in case it was rude to ask a giant’s name.

“Bite,” the giant said.


Bite . . . you? You bite me? The giant didn’t add anything, so William said, “Excuse me?”

“My name’s Bite,” the giant repeated, with an eye roll that showed he knew what William had been thinking. “Short for Trilobite,” he added, in a fossil-dry tone.

“Uh.” William couldn’t pull off a casual, not-worrying-about-getting-bitten-by-a-giant attitude that quickly.

The other giants smirked, clearly enjoying William’s struggle for politeness.

“I’ll write to Hugh,” William said, then babbled on, trying to bury the awkwardness under a pile of words. “Maybe I’ll even ask him a few questions and then he can talk to you about the answers, or at least start pulling up the books. You know, getting them together–”

Cutting himself off, he took a spoon and tasted the soup. His eyes watered, his scalded tastebuds felt like popcorn and his tastebuds were done for the day, but he didn’t spit the soup out of his mouth.

When he could speak, he said, “It was a little too hot. But pretty good, even without the beans. Want to try?”
“Hmm.” 


“Uh—”


“No, thanks,” said Bite.

Abruptly, the remaining giants picked up their signs and formed a picket line around the castle again.

Leaving William with a giant-sized pot of potato soup. Why’d he bother leaving out the beans? He’d thought he’d been getting somewhere.