To Trust a Giant

The biting October wind sliced through Stella’s thin flannel shirt, making her shiver uncontrollably. Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since she’d escaped, two weeks of endless running, hiding, and scavenging. Her stomach groaned in protest, a hollow ache that had become a constant companion.
“Nothing,” she sighed, her voice a weak whisper as she slumped against a grimy brick wall in a deserted alley. Her eyelids felt heavy, each blink a battle against unconsciousness. Just a few minutes, she told herself, just a quick rest.
THUD! THUD! THUD! The ground vibrated with each resounding impact, growing closer, louder. Stella’s eyes snapped open, a primal fear seizing her. She scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“N-no!” The word choked in her throat as her gaze fixed on the source of the tremors: a colossal figure, at least sixty-five feet tall, with thick dark hair. A Giant. And his brown eyes, vast as dinner plates, were fixated on her.
