“Breeze, its a weird name. How did you get it?” Tulip asked one afternoon.
He smiled. Flicking an annoying squirrel off the branch they sat on he said, “To answer that we need to climb Sugar Loaf mountain.” He pointed into the distance.
“Let’s go.” Tulip said.
One hour later they were sitting on a ledge looking down on the forest. “I can’t see our tree.” Breeze moaned.
“Let me help.” Tulip flicked her wand towards the trees. She said, “Wait, give it a minute.”
Breeze counted. At sixty he was rewarded. A rainbow volcano erupted from a tree, showering the forest below with sparkling, dancing lights. “Thanks,” 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 and asked her to make me stop. Then they asked, “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 putting their wings over their heads.
A breeze blew softly across the mountain tops. It drifted down to the crying baby. It danced across his toes and worked its way up to his nose. His crying stopped. He smiled.
The birds popped their heads out and asked, “who did it?”
She said, ” the breeze did it. His name is Breeze.”
Tulip looked at him. “I don’t think that could be true.”
Suddenly she felt a flitting breeze tugging at her wings. It pulled her hair from its pony tail, tickled her nose. She smiled.
But Breeze was way ahead of her as it worked its magic on him and he laughed so hard he rolled half way down the mountain.
For an image of Breeze and Tulip check out this link