Chapter 25 A Small Feast Before The Night

Tears welled up in our eyes, mixing with the dirt on our faces as we huddled around our fallen mentor. We touched his bruised and bloody body, our tiny hands trembling with sorrow and helplessness.

"Kaka, wake up!" one of us cried, giving him a gentle shake, "You can't leave us, Mumma Kaka! Who will protect us now? Who will plant gentle goodnight kisses on our heads?! Who will give us warm hugs and cuddles? Wake up, Kaka!"

Another hatchling, his voice filled with anguish, sobbed, "We'll be all alone, Dada Kaka! Please, don't leave us alone in this horrible place! We are scared, cold, all alone. Surrounded by evil goblins! Who will protect us?! Who will feed us?! We are hungry! We will die without Kaka!"

We clung to him, our pitiful sobs and pleas blending into a chorus of despair. Kaka's body remained still, his breathing shallow and labored. The world around us seemed to close in, and we felt the crushing weight of our vulnerability in this harsh and unforgiving goblin camp.

Kaka's lifeless eyes fluttered open, and he managed to utter words through labored breaths.

"Little gobs," he rasped, his voice barely audible, "you grow fast. In a month, you will be grown goblins like me. I know... little gobs are hungry... I will try... produce a little nourishment for you... my little gobs."

His promise was a flicker of hope in our dire situation, a glimmer of compassion in a world that had shown us nothing but cruelty. We huddled closer to him, our small bodies seeking warmth and comfort in his presence, as we waited in anticipation of the nourishment he spoke of, hoping that it would be enough to sustain us through the night.

Kaka said to us with a quivering voice while painfully grunting, "Little gobbies... Kaka will try... Hurg! To produce nourishment... Hurgh! Get ready to feast... Nhurgh! While it's warm. Hurghhh!"

Kaka was on his side, lying on the ground, his pained groans and grunts filled the cramped space of his tent.

"Hughrgh...! Krrrk...! Nuhugghhh...! Graaahh!" Kaka grunted as he strained to push, his scrawny feet kicking the air and his buttcheeks quivering.

 He fluttered with weakness, and with an audible wet fart, he expelled a puddle of wet steaming feces onto the ground. The smell of fresh dung drifted through the air, assaulting and burning our sensitive sniffers, but hunger gnawed at our bellies, overpowering any revulsion.

Kaka nodded with encouragement, tears glistening in his eyes from his exertion.

 "That's it, little gobs. That is all I can produce. Eat up, don't waste even a single drop. But remember. Just take little bites, and share so that all can eat."

Our little bodies, racked by the torment of starvation, surged toward Kaka's kind offering. In our frenzied desperation, we tumbled over each other, rolling and scrabbling to reach the steaming pile of dung. Without any restraint, we dove headfirst into the putrid feast, our tiny mouths wide open to shovel in the foul nutrition.

"Wet and stinky, but food! My tummy hates this, but it's better than nothing!" one hatchling mumbled to hype himself, his mouth chomping loudly filled with the nasty feast to the brim.

Another, face smeared with Kaka's shit, cheered, "Yummy, yummy dung! Eat, eat! Stinky smell but not so bad to eat! Wet and slimy! No need to chew only slurp and chomp!"

"Gross, it's all gooey! Ughhh, it tastes like that goblin feet, but worse!" one of us whined, his voice tinged with disgust, though he continued to stuff his mouth regardless.

"Mine! Mine! Get outta my way! I saw it first!" another hatchling cried, pushing aside his unfortunate comrade to claim his share of the disgusting meal.

The cramped tent echoed with the revolting sounds of wet chomping, slurping, and licking, punctuated by the occasional gag or retch as we desperately consumed Kaka's feces. Tears streamed down our faces as we forcefully gulped down the vile manure, our tiny throats contracting with each nauseating swallow.

"Bleeegh! I don't wanna!" one hatchling cried, spitting out a mouthful of dung.

"It's yucky! Yucky, I say!" another chimed in, his voice tinged with revulsion.

Yet another added, "Why do we eat this? Why?" as his tiny body shuddered with disgust.

Squabble, his eyes filled with tears, wailed, "Mmmm... I miss juicy wormsies and crunchy bugs... not this sniffer-burning stink!"

As we waded through the spread of wet feces, two hatchlings made a fortunate discovery. They stumbled upon an undigested mushroom cap buried within the waste. With feeble, feces-covered fingers, they clung to the precious morsel, their tiny hands gripping the shroom as if it were the key to salvation.

The two hatchlings tugged and pulled, their grubby hands smeared with Kaka's feces, their faces twisted in a display of goblin greed. The mushroom cap wobbled precariously between them, threatening to break apart in their flimsy scrabble for possession.

"Mine! It's mine! Scratchy found it first! Scratchy's shroom! Unhand the shroom, Squeak!"

"No, no! Nuh-uhh! Squeak found it too! Squeak wants the shroom! You unhand the hand!"

"Give it! I saw it first! It's mine! It is!"

"Squeak saw it too! Squeak wants shroom! Gimme!"

"Grrr! Squeak, go away! It's mine!"

"No, mine! Squeak wants it! Gimmeeee!"

As the squabbling continued, Squeak, determined to emerge victorious, unleashed a cowardly cry, "Reeee!" and gave a timid tug, ripping the mushroom cap in half. Both hatchlings fell backward, each clutching a piece of the shroom, triumphant in their own minds.

 "Hah! I got some! You can have the small bit!"

"Hmph! Squeak's bit is better! Stupid Scratchy!"

They both greedily chomped on their shroom halves and continued scraping and shoveling Kaka's feces in their mouths to quell the hunger.

 As the last traces of the feces vanished off the ground, we turned our attention to Kaka's feces-smeared buttcheeks. We huddled around Kaka's butt, our tiny tongues eagerly lapping up the last remnants of the feces clean off Kaka's butt. We slurped and licked, not caring about the filth that clung to our fingers and faces. In our desperate hunger, the taste of the vile mixture barely mattered, and we focused only on the nourishment it provided.

Kaka lay there, his eyes half-closed, his energy depleted from producing this meager meal for his young goblin hatchlings. But it was not enough to quell our hunger and we begged for more food. 

"More, Dada Kaka, more! Goober's still hungry! Maybe poop some wriggly wormsies?"

"Me too! Sludge wants more wormsies!"

"Mumma Kaka, please! Scratchy needs more! Tummy still churning!"

"Tumble's still hungry, Kaka! More cream, please!"

They huddled around Kaka's butt with gaping mouths, waiting for more feces to shoot from his butt, their voices a chorus of hungry pleas, their eyes big and hopeful. Kaka's weary face bore a faint smile as he tried to push more of his droppings to provide some relief to his starving hatchlings.

"Hugh...! Humphh...! Graaahhh...!"

But despite our desperate and sorrowful cries, Kaka could not produce any more feces only one last wet fart, "Purrrrt!" that splashed tiny scats over our eager faces. His exhausted body had given everything it had to offer. He lay there, his eyes heavy with fatigue, listening to the pitiful pleas of us, the young goblins.

"I'm sorry, little gobbies," Kaka whispered, his voice barely audible, "Kaka is tired... that was all I could provide... I'm sorry... it will have to do, little gobs."

With pitiful, high-pitched voices, we begged and pleaded for more food, our words a garbled chorus of despair.

"Please, Kaka! More food, please!"

"We want more! We are so hungry!"

"Give us more, Kaka! We need it!"

Kaka, despite his battered and broken state, managed a faint smile as he looked at us. He whispered his last words, "There, there, my little gobs. You've had your fill. Rest now. Move less, less hungry you will be." With those words, Kaka's eyelids drooped, and he fell into a deep and restless slumber. 

We frantically shook Kaka's limp body, our tiny hands trembling as we tried to rouse him. But Kaka remained unresponsive, his breathing growing weaker with each passing moment. Panic swept through our group of young goblins, and we huddled closer to Kaka, some whimpering softly, while others let out desperate cries for help.

"Kaka? Wake up, Kaka! Please! Do not fall to endless sleep like our lost gobbie friends!"

"Kaka! Don't leave us, Kaka! Don't go to goblin spirits!"

"What do we do now? Scratchy's scared! What if forest spirits come to take Kaka away!"

"Tumble doesn't know what to do! What is spirit? I don't like endless sleep only naps!"

One of the hatchlings, Snipper, began to nibble on Kaka's ear, hoping to wake him up, but it was in vain. The once-towering goblin now lay motionless on the ground, his body crippled and bruised, his spirit nearly broken.

We huddled around Kaka's limp form, our tiny faces etched with worry and confusion. We prodded and poked at Kaka, but he remained unresponsive. Panic welled up within us as we realized that Kaka had fainted and could no longer provide us with sustenance or guidance.

"Noooo, Kaka no move! What do we do now?" one goblin whimpered, his voice trembling with fear.

"Kaka, wake up! We need you!" another hatchling chimed in, shaking Kaka's lifeless form.

"Maybe he tired? Maybe he sleeps?" a third goblin mumbled, his voice filled with uncertainty.

A fourth hatchling, tears welling up in his eyes, said, "We hungry, Kaka. What do we eat now?"

"We need food! Kaka, wake up and find food!" another hatchling wailed, his voice growing more frantic by the second.

Amidst the chaos of their voices, one particularly clever goblin whispered, "Maybe we look for food ourselves? Kaka showed us where to find things, right?"

We were left on our own, in the dimly lit tent, with our injured and unconscious mentor. We huddled together for warmth and support, our future uncertain in this harsh and unforgiving world. The thought of going out and looking for food ourselves tempted and our rumbling bellies encouraged us to ponder the possibility.

With Kaka unconscious and the outside world seeming too perilous, we focused our attention on the dimly lit tent that had become our refuge. The makeshift tent, crafted from gnarled sticks bound together with vines and shrouded in broad leaves, enveloped us in its meager protective embrace. The tent was small and shabby but to us, tiny hatchlings not bigger than baby mice, this tent looked like a colossal structure. 

The atmosphere inside was damp and humid, which offered little to no relief from the biting chill of the night. The ground beneath us was a mixture of solid dirt and soft patches, promising the possibility of uncovering worms and delicious grassroots to satisfy our growing hunger.

Our sharp goblin eyes spotted moist moss clinging to the sticks that formed the tent's framework. We realized it could be a source of moisture to quench our parched throats and double as a quick snack.

With cautious optimism, we set about our tasks. Some of us dug into the soft earth, hoping to unearth wriggling wormsies. The moist, damp ground held the promise of hidden treasures, and we began to dig with our tiny, grubby fingers. The earth yielded wormsies, their slimy bodies wriggling in protest as we pulled them from their underground sanctuaries. 

As the plump, writhing earthworms emerged into the sight, we wasted no time in pouncing on them, our stomachs gnawing with hunger. I found myself in a ferocious battle with a lively earthworm.

"Gob-gotcha! Yummy wormie for me!" I squeaked with glee, trying to hold my prize aloft.

Its slick body squirmed and coiled, trying to evade my grasp. I lunged forward, my tiny hands grasping at the slippery creature, but it slipped through my fingers like a wet noodle. But I was not about to let this potential meal escape.

The earthworm, sensing the imminent threat, fought back with surprising vigor. It thrashed and wriggled, its segmented body twisting and turning, slapping me across the face with loud wet claps, trying to break free from my relentless grip. I could feel its slimy skin slipping through my fingers, but I refused to give up.

I wrestled and grappled in the dirt. It was a battle of wills, a life-or-death struggle between a starving goblin hatchling and a lowly earthworm.

With a final surge of effort, I triumphantly clamped down on the earthworm, my tiny teeth sinking into its squishy flesh. The earthworm let out a feeble squirm before surrendering to my gnawing hunger. 

I devoured the earthworm savoring every morsel of its slimy goodness. It was a hard-fought victory, but in the grim world of goblin hatchlings, every meal was a triumph over hunger and a step closer to survival.

My fellow hatchlings followed my example and with triumphant squeals, we clutched the worms and stuffed them into our mouths, their juices squirting out with each eager bite. The taste was repulsive, but our hunger overpowered any disgust we felt.