Chapter 48 Snacko Flamboshta!

We lay on the ground of our shed in silence, broken and forgotten, our injuries were critical, and we fainted. The weight of our shared misery pressing down on us. The guards cheered and laughed, already moving past the fight, eager for the next distraction. The slaves, like us, huddled together in small groups, their eyes darting around in fear, knowing that their suffering was far from over. 

Unknown to me how long I was out, I was stirred from my sleep by the ruckus sounds coming from outside our shed. With my eyes glued shut by dried tears, I listened to the sounds. It seemed like some festivities were going on outside. Not long after, I heard our shed doors gently creak open and a few pairs of hesitant feet shuffling closer. Suddenly, I felt my body being gently turned over and my head cradled against someone's lap. Then a familiar voice rang out.

"Little gob, little gob, you alive? Are you alright? Wake, wake, it's Grub and Grill. We got you some food, we got our hands on Snacko Flamboshta! Wake, little gob. Wake! We got food, glorious food!"

I forced myself to open my eyes, the crusty dried tears crumbling as I pried them apart. Through glazed, blurry vision, I looked around and focused on a body lying on the straw bed. It was Kaka. He looked better, cleaner, and even had some makeshift herbal bandages wrapped around his injuries. But the torch was still lodged well in his butt.

Grub, a fellow goblin slave with a kind heart, hovered over me, his eyes filled with concern. He held a small wooden bowl in his hand, offering it to me.

 "Eat, little gob, tasty food," he urged softly.

 "You need food to recover. This stew here is the best food goblin slaves can get around these parts. It will be some time before we will get some more. You need to savor it."

Grill tended to Kaka's needs, gently tilting his head and pouring the stew down his throat, whipping Kaka's face after with care and tenderness. 

As Grub handed me the bowl of stew, I could not even lift a finger; my body was exhausted and broken. All I could do was force my mangled mouth to open slightly. Grub noticed my struggle and said, "Do not force yourself, little gob. I got you. Just try to swallow. I will pour this tasty stew into your mouth. This is a rare food we get once a month to feast on. The master goblin holds a feast each full moon. All the evil goblins get to eat and drink to the full, and even we, goblin slaves, get a small bowl of this, specially made for us, stew. We call it Snacko Flamboshta. It is a tasty morsel, a precious one. It's made out of big juicy bugs, tasty wormsies, all kinds of mushrooms, and weeds, all boiled in leftover animal fat and water. Mmmmmm... Delicious!"

With that said, Grub gently tilted my head and poured the stew into my mouth. I gulped it down with gurgling and squelching wet gulps, not even trying to savor the taste or chew. I just pushed it down my throat as fast as possible to fill my belly. 

As I swallowed greedily, Grub continued talking, "Little gob, you need not worry about your friend Kaka. He is still alive, fighting for his life, recovering. Grill is looking after him right now. Earlier, me and my friends did all we could. We cleaned him and his wounds, only the torch did not budge. We already fed him, and he should recover with time. Oh, and you need not worry about the hatchlings. I will take care of them. They were a sorry sight, but they will recover. You just rest, little gob. Rest and save your strength."

Swallowing the last mouthful of the stew and done licking the smears of the morsel from my cracked lips, I mustered the strength to say, "Grub, thank you for everything. You are a true friend. A good gobbie."

Grub’s eyes softened with compassion.

 "It's nothing, little gob. We have to look out for each other. We’re all we’ve got. The masters may see us as worthless, but we have to show that we have worth, even if only to ourselves."

I nodded weakly, feeling a warm sense of gratitude despite the pain. Grub placed and adjusted a ragged blanket over my frail body, ensuring I was as comfortable as possible on the rough floor.

As I lay there, the stew working its way through my system, I could feel a slight return of strength, a small spark of life rekindled. Grub moved around quietly, checking on Kaka, who lay on the other side of the shed. He gently touched Kaka's forehead, whispering words of encouragement.

"He's strong, little gob," Grub said softly, more to himself than to me. 

"He will pull through. He will. He strong gobbie, he be fine."

My eyes fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, but I kept them open just a bit longer to watch Grub’s movements. He went to a corner of the shed where he placed a few personal items: a chipped bowl, a bundle of herbs, and a small, crude carving of a goblin. 

Grub’s gaze lingered on the small, crude carving of a goblin, an item that seemed out of place within the rough surroundings of the shed. He picked it up delicately, turning it over in his calloused hands. The carving was worn smooth in places from years of handling, its features simple yet imbued with a certain lifelike quality that suggested it had been crafted with care.

As he looked at the carving, his usually meek expression softened, revealing a glimpse of the emotions he kept hidden. There was a deep sadness in his eyes, but also a flicker of warmth, a reminder of something precious from a time long past. He held the carving close as if it were a lifeline connecting him to memories that provided strength and solace in his darkest moments.

"Little gob, I know how sad you must feel with your precious caretaker so weak and tortured. He is your family, right?" he began, "this here carving... it’s all I have left of my family. My daughter made it for me. She was just a little one but a rare hatchling. So full of life, so innocent. She crafted it from a piece of wood she found by the river. Took her days, it did. But she was so proud when she gave it to me."

Grub's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued.

 "She said it was me, her brave papa, always looking out for her. When the evil goblins came, I hid her as best I could. Female hatchlings are very rare, yes they are, precious. But... it wasn't enough. They took her. Separated us. I don’t know what happened to her. Sometimes, I think maybe she is still out there, surviving, just like us. And other times... well, the thought is too painful to finish."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and gently placed the carving back on the ground. 

"I look at this carving every day to remind myself of her. To remind myself of why I keep living. Because if I ever find her, I want to be the papa she remembered, the one she believed in. Not a broken, defeated goblin, but someone she can be proud of."

I felt a lump in my throat, my fears and sorrows mingling with the empathy I felt for Grub. Despite his hardships, he had found a way to keep hope alive, to cling to the fragments of a happier past even as he faced the brutal realities of the present.

Grub turned to me, his expression hardening with resolve.

 "That’s why we have to keep going, little gob. We have to keep struggling, for ourselves and for those we care about. No matter how dark it gets, we can't lose hope. We can't give up."

I nodded, his words sinking deep into my soul. Grub's story, his enduring hope and strength, became a beacon for me in those bleak times. He was not just a friend; he was a symbol of resilience, a testament to the power of love and memory to sustain us even in the direst of circumstances.

 In that small, simple piece of wood, I saw not just a carving, but a promise. A promise that we would survive, that we would find a way to endure, and that, like Grub, I too would one day have something to look back on with pride.

"Little gob," Grub continued, "master goblin tasked me to nurse you and Kaka. Just as he promised, no one will mess with you for several days, and you will get a little bit of food. But he warned, if you do not recover and happen to be broken and useless slaves by the time runs out, he would not hesitate to use you two as hound feed."

I shuddered at the thought, my eyes wide with fear. I glanced over at Kaka, who lay unconscious, barely clinging to life. The sight of my beloved caretaker, so broken and frail, made my heart ache. I wanted to believe Grub’s words, to hold onto the hope that we could recover, but the reality of our situation was grim.

Grub’s grip tightened slightly on my shoulder, a gesture meant to instill confidence. 

"But I trust that you and Kaka can recover from this," he said, his voice taking on a more gentle tone.

 "I will be staying in this shed with you and Kaka, looking after you two. And when I'm not around, my friend Grill will help the best he can."

Grill, a smaller and younger goblin than Grub, stepped forward. He was the same one who worked in the fields with me, his face familiar and friendly. He nodded to Grub and then to me.

 "Friend," he said in his high-pitched, earnest voice, "we will help Kaka and you. You a good gobbie, and we, slaves, we care for each other in this breeding farm. We might be weak and pathetic, but we help each other however we can. We are not nasties like the evil goblins, no sir, no we are not. We will do all we can to help you two back on your feet."