Chapter 39 The Goblin Duke of Dirtshire, Lord of Soggy Tunnels and Smelly Secrets. Nice to smell you today, your Royal Sadness.

Lyn grabbed a small bundle of crunchy grilled bones wrapped in a thin strip of leaf. The savory smell hit like a punch — roasted marrow, smoky char, just the right hint of forest herbs.

She turned with a grin, holding one out to me like it was a rare treasure.

 “You ever had grilled bones before? Best part’s the crunch — here, chew on this one. It’s deer ribs. My favorite.”

I blinked at the bone.

Then at Lyn.

Then back at the bone.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think I’m supposed to chew on bones,” I mumbled, clutching my hands awkwardly in front of my chest.

Lyn tilted her head. 

“Why not? Too crunchy?”

I looked at the bone like it might grow fangs and bite me first.

 “No, it’s just… I’m, uh… I’m used to bones hitting me in the face, not going in my mouth.”

She stared at me.

I gave a tiny shrug.

“Evil goblins usually don’t season them when they’re used for beatings.”

Lyn let out a snort-laugh so loud the fish vendor jumped and dropped a plate.

 “You’re telling me... you’ve never eaten a grilled bone because you’ve only ever been bludgeoned with them?”

I gave a guilty nod.

 “Yeah…”

She wiped a tear of laughter from her eye, still wheezing. 

“Gods, you’re a mess. I'm sorry.”

Before I could retreat into myself like some turtle back into his shell, she gently pressed the warm, crunchy bone into my hand.

“Well, then. Consider this your redemption arc. First bone you get to eat, not fear. Go on. Crunch it. Bite back.”

I hesitated, then cautiously brought it to my mouth.

Crunch.

My eyes widened.

“…It’s good,” I whispered.

Lyn gave me a nudge. 

“Told you. Welcome to the bone zone.”

“...Please don’t call it that,” I mumbled, already nibbling the edge like it was sacred.

And for the first time in a long, long time, I didn’t flinch when someone offered me a bone.

Lyn was in full mischief mode the moment we left the food stall. The sun was dipping over the edge of the forest, casting golden beams across the village, making everything look extra soft and warm — even the soot-stained forge and the piles of drying fish skins. But Lyn? She had that spark in her eye, the kind that said, “You’re not getting out of this without giggling at least once.”

She looped her arm through mine — which made my entire body seize like someone had stuck a needle in my spine — and led me past a row of small homes shaped like fat gourds and mossy teapots.

“You see that one?” she whispered, pointing at a squat round hut with a big chimney.

 “That’s Old Poppy’s place. She brews stink potions that’ll make your fur fall off. Or in your case, I guess, make it grow. Might help that bald goblin head you’ve got.”

"Oh no, no hair on head. Evil goblins like to rip them out. We, goblin slaves, lose our hair from the stress and anxiety."

I looked down at my wiry little chin. 

“You think she’d make me a beard, though?”

Lyn gasped. 

“No, no. A goblin beard!? You’d look like a tiny, angry shrub!”

She cackled and tugged me along.

As we passed a drying rack full of bright fabrics, she suddenly grabbed one — a frilly pink scarf with too many tassels — and flung it over my head like royalty’s cloak.

“BEHOLD,” she declared, hands on her hips, “The Goblin Duke of Dirtshire, Lord of Soggy Tunnels and Smelly Secrets. Nice to smell you today, your Royal Sadness.”

I peeked out from under the scarf, blushing so hard even my ears went bright green.

 “I-I… smell okay today…”

Lyn just giggled, gave my shoulder a little bump, and left the scarf on me as we continued.

Later, near the watermill, she sneaked behind me while I was staring at the big wheel and gently slipped a fish in my big ear.

“GAH!” I leapt two feet in the air and frantically shook my ears, flinging the fish into the grass.

“Surprise snack!” she yelled between howls of laughter.

I glared at her, breathless, but then… something strange happened. My frown twitched, just a little. And then a small snort escaped me. A real laugh. Not a scared one. Not nervous. Real.

Lyn stopped. Blinked. Smiled.

“There it is,” she said softly. 

“I knew you had one in there.”

I looked away, clutching the edge of my pink scarf, mumbling, “Only when you’re around…”

Her ears perked.

“Oh-ya?! What was that, Little Green Bean?”

“N-Nothing!”

She grinned, slow and smug, like a cat who just cornered a mouse with a crush.

“Ohhh no. You definitely said something sweet just now.”

I hid my face in the scarf.

And Lyn? She just walked beside me, humming a tune, her fluffy tail swaying. The sun had bled into the trees by the time we finished our "date"—if you could call it that. Really, it was just Lyn dragging me through the village while I tripped over my clumsy feet and made her laugh. But I wasn’t complaining.

Now, standing at the edge of the village, reality hit me. Where was I supposed to sleep tonight? The forest? Another muddy ditch? My ears burned at the thought.

Lyn caught my hesitation. Her sharp grin softened, and she tilted her head.

 "Scared of the night? I hope you’re not thinking of curling up in another mud puddle, are you?"

"I—I mean, I’ve slept in worse places. One time I was hiding in a big pile of sh—"

"Ugh, no. Don't say it. You're not getting away so easily. You're coming with me."

 Before I could finish, her hand closed around my wrist, tugging me toward her hut. 

"You’re not spending the night like some soggy stray. My floor’s dry, at least."

My pulse pounded in my throat as I stumbled after her. 

"Y-you sure? I don’t wanna be a bother—"

"Hermit." She stopped suddenly, poking me square in the chest. 

"If I wanted to be rid of you, I’d have left you in that ditch where I found you."

A pause. Then that smirk of hers returned. 

"…Though watching you flail was pretty funny."

I groaned, but the warmth in my chest didn’t fade.

Inside, her hut smelled of herbs and hearth-smoke. Drying plants hung from the rafters, and a pile of furs sat neatly in the corner. Lyn tossed me a blanket. The fire in Lyn’s hut had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the walls. We’d spent the evening talking—well, she talked, I mostly nodded and tried not to say something stupid—but now there was a… tension.

Lyn stretched, her shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin.

  "Sure is hot in here, huh?" She fanned herself dramatically.

I blinked.

  "Ummm. I feel cold. But I can—I can open the window? Or, wait, it’s night, so maybe it’s colder outside? Unless—"

She rolled her eyes and shifted closer, her knee brushing mine.

  "Hermit. You ever think maybe some things are better than talking?"

My brain short-circuited. 

"Oh! Right! You—you want me to sleep! I mean, yeah, it’s late, I should—"

"NO, no, silly." She grabbed my arm before I could stand. 

"I’m saying maybe we could… not talk... do something fun instead. And y’know, if your cold, sharing body heat is, like. A thing." 

"Oh! You want the blanket back?" 

I immediately started shrugging it off.

 "Here, take it. I’ve slept colder."

Lyn’s eye twitched. 

"No, I—ugh." She sat up, tail lashing.

 "Hermit. I’m literally inviting you into my bed. For some 'fun' time."

My face went slack. Then, slowly, my expression morphed into horrified understanding.

"Ooooooooh. Just like Kaka used to keep us hatchlings warm! Like Dada, like Muma! Oh! How I missed his gentle embrace—the way he'd scoop us close, letting us nestle against his warmth. We'd curl around him, a pile of tiny, shivering bodies, and he'd hum those soft, croaking lullabies until we slept. Kaka was my friend, my family, my caretaker, my everything. My precious."

Tears welled in my eyes and a painful sob tore from my throat, "But he gone now."

"Lyn... that's... that's so kind of you," I choked out.

Her ears perked up. 

"Uh. Yeah. Sure. Kind. So, you're—"

"I miss him so much!" I wailed, flopping forward to bury my face in her ample chest.

 "He always let us sleep in a pile! The warmth! The togetherness! You—you're offering me that same comfort! Like family! Like Muma!"

Lyn's expression cycled through disbelief, annoyance, and finally, exhausted resignation. 

"...Right. Family. Comfort. What a way to ruin a mood."

I sniffled, nodding vigorously. 

"Yes! Just like Kaka! Oh, Lyn, you truly are—"

"Going to strangle you," she muttered, dragging a paw down her face.

But when I curled up obediently at her side, she didn't kick me out.

She muttered something.

"Hopeless, stupid goblins," before yanking me closer with an irritated growl.

That was just her way of being family, wasn't it?

(Kaka would've approved.)