Leaves whipped underfoot, the forest floor damp with the scent of earth and prey.


    Three figures moved through the undergrowth.


    One led, tall and thick-limbed, gripping a jagged spear with practiced ease.


    The second, smaller and thin, slinked low to the ground, its long fingers twitching with anticipation.


    They did not speak—only moved, senses sharpened, bodies tense, eyes scanning for movement.


    And trailing behind them, half-hidden in the shifting shadows, was the third.


    A young goblin.


    It had been following them for a while now, careful to match their pace, careful not to be seen.


    Leaves rustled beneath the weight of three goblins, their movements barely a whisper against the thick, damp air.


    The goblins paused. Their noses flared as they sniffed the air—something was near.


    The larger one, holding the jagged spear, gave a subtle nod, his body tense with quiet anticipation.


    The second goblin—smaller, wiry, with twitching fingers—sank lower to the ground, moving silently, as though one with the earth.


    They had found prey.


    Ahead, nestled in a patch of dense ferns, not one but three Mossfoot Badgers fed.


    Their stout, gray bodies were low to the ground, their moss-covered paws brushing the damp earth with a softness that made them nearly invisible.


    They fed on roots and berries, unaware of the predators closing in.


    The Mossfoot Badger was a stealthy creature, its moss-covered paws muffling any sound, making it a difficult prey to track in the thick, moist forest. But now, with three of them, the older goblins knew the odds had shifted.


    The two goblins exchanged glances, their mouths curving into eager grins.


    Three badgers. This would be a haul.


    The large goblin gripped his spear, prepared to strike when the time came. The smaller goblin, knife in hand, was already preparing for the rush. They would ambush the badgers.


    The thin goblin, knife in hand, crouched low. With a barely audible breath, it surged forward, closing the gap between it and the closest badger.


    Squeal—!


    The knife’s blade cut across the badger’s side, drawing a shallow wound. The badger’s body jerked back in surprise, but the creature barely flinched from the pain. It let out a sharp cry, its sharp eyes narrowing as it turned to face its attacker.


    Thud.


    The large goblin stepped forward, his spear lancing forward with the full weight of his strength.


    Swoosh—!


    The spear drove deep into the badger’s flank. The creature’s shriek of pain filled the air, but it was over quickly. Thud. It hit the ground, its body twitching before it stilled, lifeless.


    For a moment, the forest fell silent.


    The two goblins stood tall, grinning widely from the thrill of the kill. But the remaining badgers were far from finished.


    Their eyes flashed with rage.


    Squeeeee—!


    The surviving badgers let out a blood-curdling cry. claws scraping against the forest floor as they prepared to retaliate. Their bodies were stout and muscular, built for digging and defense, with sharp teeth bared in anger.


    The larger goblin grunted as the badger''s claws scraped across his armor, just missing his chest. He staggered back but kept his footing, swinging his spear with renewed ferocity.


    Swoosh! Another badger charged at the thin goblin, its teeth gnashing as it tried to clamp down on the goblin’s leg.


    The goblin scrambled backward, narrowly avoiding the strike. It cut across the air, the badger’s roar ringing in its ears as it swiped again.


    Hiss—!


    The goblin scrambled backward, barely dodging the attack. It hissed in pain as the badger’s claws grazed its arm, leaving a bloody streak.


    The badgers were relentless now.


    The larger goblin charged again, his spear raised high. The badger it faced retaliated with a violent push, slamming its head into the goblin’s stomach, pushing him back a few steps.


    The goblin grunted and swung his spear again, aiming for the badger''s throat. Swoosh!


    But the badger ducked, its claws catching the goblin’s arm in a glancing blow, leaving a bloody streak along his skin.


    The fight was no longer an easy kill.


    The badgers were wild with fury, attacking in every direction, their claws and fangs flashing. The two goblins struggled to keep up with the onslaught.


    The larger goblin gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around the spear as another badger collided with him.


    Crack—!


    The weapon gave way under the pressure, the shaft splitting with a sickening crack. His eyes widened in disbelief.


    Now it was just tooth and claw. A desperate struggle of beasts.


    The thin goblin wheezed, clutching his bleeding chest, barely able to keep standing.


    The badgers, though wounded, were still moving, their breath heavy, their gazes murderous.


    Both sides knew—


    Kill or die.


    Then—


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    Squ—!


    The creature let out a strangled cry, legs buckling, body collapsing.


    The goblins and badgers alike turned, stunned.


    A new figure had entered the fight.


    Half-hidden in the shifting shadows, gripping a bloodied rock, stood the curious and young goblin.


    Its breath was steady. Its eyes, calm.


    And it was ready to kill.


    Squeeeee!


    The badger writhed, its body convulsing as blood seeped from its crushed skull. A sharp wheeze left its throat before it collapsed, twitching once—then still.


    The curious goblin didn’t hesitate.


    Its sharp eyes locked onto the remaining badger, the last of its kind.


    The creature hesitated, its furious snarls faltering as instinct screamed at it to run. But it was too late.


    The larger goblin lunged.


    With a guttural growl, he crashed into the badger, grappling with the beast as it thrashed and clawed, teeth snapping inches from his face.


    The thin goblin, still clutching his wounded chest, let out a ragged breath—then pushed forward, his knife gleaming.


    A swift slash.


    Squ—!


    A choked squeal.


    The blade drove deep into the badger’s throat, warm blood spurting against the goblin’s fingers. The creature spasmed once—then sagged, lifeless.


    Silence fell.


    Heavy panting filled the clearing, the three goblins staring at the bodies around them.


    The two older goblins panted, their bodies aching, their wounds stinging.


    Blood smeared their green skin, some their own, some from the badgers now lying lifeless on the forest floor. The fight had been brutal, but they had won.


    The larger goblin—still gripping the splintered remains of his spear—turned to the strange one. His yellow eyes flicked up and down, finally taking in the newcomer properly.


    Small. Young. Fresh bred.


    He grunted, baring his teeth in something like approval. He pointed at a dead badger.


    "Fresh bred… help." His voice was rough, guttural. "Get… some meat."


    The thin goblin, still clutching his bleeding chest, gave a slow nod. He did not protest.


    The curious goblin had fought. Had killed.


    However, the curious goblin did not move toward the offered portion.


    Instead—


    Thud!


    A sharp kick struck the larger goblin’s leg, making him stumble with a snarl. His grip tightened around the broken spear, instincts flaring.


    The curious goblin stood firm.


    "Two," he growled, voice steady. "No me—" he pointed at the dead badgers, at the blood on their bodies, at their wounds—"You die."


    A tense silence hung in the air.


    The larger goblin bared his teeth, muscles twitching. He took a step forward, brandishing his broken spear.


    The smaller one, still twitching with irritation, stepped in closer, his thin frame a stark contrast to the brute force of the older goblins.


    Their eyes narrowed, and they circled the curious goblin, attempting to force him into submission.


    "Two?…fresh brood" the larger goblin snarled, his voice thick with disdain.


    The second thinner goblin growled, "…Greedy…Weak"


    The curious goblin stood unmoving, not an inch of fear in his posture.


    He didn’t flinch. His eyes were steady, cold, locked onto the larger goblin’s every movement.


    "Grr—Weak?" the curious goblin growled, his voice a low rumble. "You. Bleed. Now. Weak!"


    The larger goblin lunged forward, half spear aimed straight at the curious goblin’s chest with a vicious thrust.


    The curious goblin twisted, ducking low, his body flowing with an unexpected fluidity. The spear whistled past his ear, missing by mere inches.


    Without hesitation, the curious goblin kicked out, his foot striking the larger goblin’s shin.


    The older goblin stumbled, a sharp hiss escaping him as he tried to steady himself.


    Before the larger goblin could recover, the smaller goblin rushed in with his knife, teeth bared.


    His movements were slow due to his injuries, but the curious goblin, unharmed, sidestepped easily, avoiding the swipe with abnormal precision.


    The larger goblin grunted, recovering his balance. "Quick," he muttered, eyes narrowed with growing fury. "You fast, not strong."


    With a roar of frustration, the larger goblin lunged again, this time with brute force, swinging the spear in a wide arc.


    The curious goblin didn’t flinch. He reacted almost instinctively, ducking low, but there was something more to his movements.


    It wasn’t just speed; it was a fluid anticipation, as though he knew where the spear would strike before it even happened.


    His body moved just out of reach, effortlessly avoiding the strike, his eyes locked on the larger goblin’s every move. The smaller goblin circled him, hissing in pain, his exhaustion evident in every step.


    The larger goblin swung again, a vicious swipe aimed at the curious goblin’s head.


    But the curious goblin was already moving—his foot shifting, his body twisting in an unnatural flow of motion, narrowly avoiding the attack.


    The smaller goblin snarled and lunged again, his knife flashing in the dim light.


    Thud—!


    A sharp kick slammed into his wounded leg.


    The thin goblin howled, his balance breaking as he crumpled to one knee. Before he could react, the curious goblin’s hand shot forward, snatching the knife clean from his grasp.


    In the same motion, he turned—


    The jagged blade now pointed directly at the larger goblin’s throat.


    The brute froze, chest rising and falling with exhaustion.


    His grip on the broken spear tightened, but his body wavered. Worn, bleeding, breath ragged—he knew he couldn''t move fast enough.


    The thin goblin hissed through his teeth, panting, his lips curling back in a mixture of pain and fury. He snarled, spitting blood onto the dirt."Grr—Skit! Skit!... Skitter!"


    The two older goblins remained still, their bodies tense, muscles coiled—but they did not attack.


    The larger goblin’s grip on his broken spear loosened. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then took a step back.


    The thin goblin followed, dragging his injured leg, still baring his teeth but making no move to strike.


    A beat passed.


    The larger goblin gave a low grunt, voice tinged with reluctant acknowledgment."Grrh—We… know you. Skit.”


    The curious goblin fingers flexed around the stolen knife, his breath steadying.


    Then, with the faintest tilt of his head, as if testing the weight of it—he muttered it back.


    "…Skit.”


    ..................


    UPCOMING NEXT - CHAPTER 4 - Feast of the Brethren.


    ..................


    GLOSSARY -:-


    [1] Mossfoot Badger — A stealthy and territorial forest creature known for its moss-covered paws, which muffle sound and make it difficult to track. Despite its stout build, it is highly aggressive when provoked, fighting relentlessly even when wounded. Its powerful claws, used for both burrowing and combat, can tear through flesh with ease. The Mossfoot Badger is an omnivore, feeding on roots, berries, and small prey.


    [2] Goblins'' Naming — Goblins, unlike many other species, don’t place much significance on personal names. Their culture values instincts and survival more than individual identity, leading to a more utilitarian approach to naming. Goblins are often given names based on their actions, traits, or even their behavior, like “Quickclaw” for swift movement or “Mudfoot” for navigating swamps. but these names are typically bestowed by others rather than chosen or deeply cherished by the goblin themselves.


    [3] Skit (Skitter) — A name given to the curious goblin based on his quick, darting movements during his fight against Vrik and Burk. Unlike the brute force of larger goblins, Skit relied on instinct and preceptive eyes to avoid blows, slipping away rather than meeting attacks head-on. The name is simple but fitting—marking him as one who moves unpredictably, neither the strongest nor the fiercest, but slippery enough to survive.