Chapter 42 Taste of Freedom

As the cruel laughter of the guards continued to echo, we sat there in a traumatic stupor, the scene of Scratchy's demise etched into our young minds like a horrifying nightmare. The guards, seemingly unburdened by any semblance of empathy, reveled in our pain.

With trembling hands, we gathered what remained of Scratchy's shattered form, the reality sinking in as we held his lifeless limbs. Tears streamed down our faces as we clung to each other, a pitiful display of hatchlings attempting to find solace in unspeakable cruelty.

"Ghegehegehegeg! I guess the rock was too big for this pathetic shit! He got squished like the shit he was! Buagheheheh!" the guard jeered, reveling in the horrific spectacle as if it were a grotesque comedy act staged for his entertainment. The other guards joined in, their laughter echoing in a twisted chorus that seemed to mock the fragility of life within the goblin breeding farm.

Our sorrowful cries for our lost friends fell on deaf ears as the guards, unmoved by empathy, proceeded to choose their next victim. A scrawny and timid hatchling, Tinker became the unwitting participant in the guards' sadistic games. One devised a twisted amusement, lifting Tinker in his massive hand as if the goblin hatchling were a mere plaything.

 Tinker, in a desperate bid for freedom, licked and whipped the guard's fingers with his tongue, but his feeble struggles proved futile against the strength of the adult goblin.

The guard proposed another sadistic game.

 "Listen up, you shit hatchling," he sneered, addressing Tinker.

 "I'll drop you on the ground, and the other needs to catch your sorry, worthless hide. Then, both of you scurry across this line," he added, scraping the ground with a jagged stick, leaving a crude line akin to a twisted finish line for the impending, cruel game.

A malicious grin stretched across his face as he continued to outline the rules of the sadistic game. 

"But here's the thing," he added with a cruel chuckle, "before you manage to cross, I'll catch you again and drop you from an even greater height. And we'll repeat this little dance until I've had my fill of fun." The guard's eyes gleamed with sadistic glee as he savored the fear etched across our faces. 

The guard, enjoying his twisted form of pleasure, seized Tinker with a rough grip, lifting him high above the ground to his knee height. The chosen goblin's eyes widened with terror as he braced himself for the impending fall. 

The guard taunted, "Get ready, you other runt. If you don't catch your buddy, you'll both pay the price."

The guard, with a cruel sneer, released his hold, sending the hatchling plummeting toward the hard, unforgiving ground.

With a sudden, heart-wrenching cry, the hatchling plummeted toward the ground. I positioned myself beneath the falling friend, a mixture of fear and anxiety etched on my tiny face. In a desperate attempt to fulfill the guard's demand, I stretched my spindly arms upward.

The moment of impact was swift and brutal. I strained to bear the weight of my falling companion, but the force was too much. Tinker slipped through my grasp, landing with a sickening thud on the hard ground. The guard's laughter echoed through the air, a cruel symphony to accompany the heartbreak below.

As Tinker lay on the ground, injured and frightened, the guard cackled with sadistic delight.

 "You miserable creatures can't even catch each other properly. Pathetic shits!" he sneered.

 But I did not give up, as I clutched Tinker in my arms, his broken form weighing heavily on my battered frame, I could feel the tremors running through both of us. Tears streaked down our tiny faces, and the pitiful sight we presented painted a cruel picture. In hushed and terrified tones, we exchanged words of encouragement and desperation.

"Come on, Tinker, we gotta get to that line," I whimpered, my voice quivering with fear.

Tinker, his spindly limbs screaming in pain, mustered a weak response, "I'm tryin', I'm tryin'," he stammered through labored breaths.

The guards loomed over us, their malicious laughter a haunting backdrop to our struggle.

 "Hurry up, you little runts! The game ain't over till you're both across that line!" one of them barked, reveling in our distress.

We formed a pitiful sight, a pair of goblin hatchlings clinging desperately to each other, tears streaming down our faces. Despite the pain that lingered from Tinker's earlier fall, he tried to crawl alongside me, driven by the shared goal of survival.

Before we could crawl halfway to the line, the guard's cruel amusement took another turn. Tinker, my tiny companion, was once again snatched from the ground, this time lifted to the guard's waist height. 

The guard, reveling in the power he held over us, grinned wickedly and taunted, "Oh, you little runts thought it was over? Not so fast! Get ready for round two!"

A knot of dread tightened in my stomach, the anticipation of the upcoming drop weighing on my fragile goblin heart.

Fear struck me like a hard slap across the face as the guard prepared to release Tinker from a greater height. The memory of the previous drop felt like a ton of bricks crashing onto me, and now, Tinker would endure a fall from twice that height.

I squeaked in a high-pitched voice, my small hands wringing together in anxiety, "Master, please! Don't drop him too hard! He's our friend! Mercy!"

As Tinker dangled precariously above, his eyes wide with terror, the guard taunted, "Ha! Mercy? You shit don't get mercy only punishment! Now let's see if you can catch your friend this time, shity runt." 

The guard, reveling in our suffering, let go of Tinker. He screeched in terror as he plummeted downward, and I lunged forward to catch him. The collision was brutal, our tiny bodies smashing against each other in a chaotic tumble of pain. The back of his head struck me square in the face, the impact crushing my nose, busting my lip, and bruising my brow, swelling them like oversized potatoes stuck on my face. The pain radiated through my small frame, but in that moment of sacrifice, I clung to the hope that my battered form had shielded Tinker from a worse fate.

Despite the excruciating pain, Tinker and I persisted, our fear propelling us forward. We crawled toward the makeshift finish line, our battered bodies propelled by sheer will. The ground beneath us seemed to taunt us with every movement, but the finish line was within reach.

However, before we could cross, the guard's cruel hand snatched Tinker once again, mocking, "Look at these scared little shity runts. Think you can just crawl away from me?"

I watched in horror as Tinker's frail form was raised high into the air, suspended for a moment that stretched into an eternity. Raising Tinker high above his head, the guard seemed to relish the impending descent.

The guard's cruel laughter echoed as he callously released Tinker, the poor goblin hatchling hurtling toward the ground. In a frantic attempt to save our comrade, I reached out, my tiny arms outstretched. However, the force of Tinker's impact was beyond my meager strength. His screech of terror reverberated through the air as he crashed into the ground, a sickening sound accompanying the horrifying sight.

I mustered all the strength left in my tiny frame and attempted to catch Tinker, but the impact was overwhelming. His flailing body collided with mine, causing a disorienting whirlwind of pain. The sickening sounds of popping and cracking bones filled the air, and I felt a sharp, searing pain shoot through my body. Despite the chaos, Tinker's injuries were far more severe. His tiny feet were twisted in unnatural ways, his mouth mangled and oozing blood, yet he clung to life, his eyes pleading for mercy.

Summoning the last reserves of strength, I tugged at Tinker's mangled form, dragging both of us across the line. The torturous game finally came to an end. The guard, reveling in his sadistic victory, cackled with delight.

 "I had my doubts, you little shits, but you crossed the line, and I won my bet. You're free to go, as I promised," he declared.

A fleeting sense of joy flickered across my face at the prospect of freedom. The guard's words offered a glimmer of hope in the bleak reality of our existence. However, that moment of relief was abruptly shattered as two guards, seething with rage at their loss, erupted into fury.

With unbridled anger, they stomped upon Tinker, his tiny body crumpling and contorting into a pile of crushed goblin meat. The sickening sound of bones being crushed and the squelch of flesh being trampled resonated through my ears. Tinker, like an overripe fruit, met a brutal end under the merciless boots of the enraged guards.

"Reeeeee! No, stop! Tinker, my friend, noooo! Gobbos not like this! Gobbos want hugs and tasty morsels, not this! Reeeee! Why do us so?! We crossed the line!" I wailed, my voice a high-pitched mixture of fear and desperation. The guards' furious onslaught on Tinker was a terrifying sight, and my tiny hands trembled as I clutched at my own small body. 

 The brief taste of freedom soured in my mouth as the gruesome spectacle unfolded before my tear-filled eyes, a reminder that in the heart of the goblin breeding farm, even moments of apparent reprieve could swiftly transform into harrowing nightmares.

 "Bad guards, bad! Tinker didn't do anything! Leave him alone!" I squeaked, my words a feeble protest against the brutality of the guards. The air was thick with the stench of fear as I shit myself, my meaty ears pressed against my skull in a futile attempt to block out the sounds of Tinker's agony.

"Why? Why hurt gobbos? We just want to be happy, play, and eat tasty things! Not suffer so!" I whimpered, my voice cracking with sorrow.