Chapter 49 The Laughing Stock

The following days were a mixture of torment and small mercies. Grub and Grill came to care for us and provide us with meager rations, scraps of food that were barely fit for consumption. They brought with them filthy, leftover scraps that even the hounds wouldn't touch. But this miserable fare was the best we could hope for in such a wretched place. 

To us, they were a lifeline, a meager sustenance that kept us from the brink of starvation. In the cruel world we inhabited, even the most meager scraps were a blessing. On our previous farm, we would have been left to rot on the ground, starved and filthy until death claimed us. Here, though, we had a better care, a sliver of hope.  

In just two days, I managed to recover enough to walk on my own. Though I still limped and winced with each step, I was grateful for the ability to move on my own once again. Kaka, too, showed signs of improvement. He could speak, although only a few words, but each utterance was a victory in itself, a step toward recovery. The hatchlings, once fragile and delicate, now frolicked and played with newfound energy. Their tiny forms, once marred by burns and scars, now bore the marks of healing.

A few more days passed, and I found myself standing on my feet with more strength. Kaka, though still wobbly, could also stand. Walking was a different matter for him; he could not move straight due to the torch cruelly lodged in his butt. With each step, he wobbled like a newborn foal, his legs trembling under the weight of his own body.

The torch, a cruel and barbaric instrument of torture, had left Kaka with not only physical wounds but also deep emotional scars that would take time to heal.

I had tried to remove it several times, pulling and twisting, but the unimaginable pain it caused Kaka made him beg me to stop. The torch had almost fused with his flesh, an unyielding object stuck in his butt.

The torch, a cruel reminder of our harrowing torture, protruded from Kaka's butt like a twisted mockery of a tail. I couldn't bear to look at it for long, the sight of Kaka's suffering twisting my stomach into knots.

The day had slipped away, dissolving like grains of sand spilling through a shattered hourglass, and now the night had arrived in full force. It was not a gentle night, no, but one drenched in cold and fury. The rain fell in a ceaseless torrent, its icy fingers drumming against the roof of our fragile shed, a rhythm that was both chaotic and soothing in its relentlessness. Each drop hit the roof like the distant echo of a thousand drums, crashing against the roof with a purpose only the storm knew. The sound filled every corner of the shed, seeping into our bones, but there was a strange comfort in it, like nature was singing its lullaby, trying to drown out the horrors of the day.

Outside, lightning slashed through the inky sky, jagged forks of light tearing through the thick blanket of night. Each bolt briefly illuminated the world, casting everything in stark, ghostly relief before vanishing, leaving us once again in the embrace of darkness. The booming thunder followed soon after, rolling across the heavens like the growl of some ancient, sleeping beast stirred from its slumber. But even this - the crash of thunder, the sharp cracks of lightning - seemed to lose its terror as the rain’s constant tapping filled the void, lulling us into a kind of uneasy peace.

We clung to each other, small hands gripping tightly, seeking warmth not just from the cold but from the closeness of our shared desperation. The little hatchlings nestled against Kaka and me, their tiny bodies shivering in the cold, their wide, innocent eyes reflecting the flashes of light from the storm. But their breath, soft and rhythmic, soon began to match the falling rain. Their little heads drooped, one by one, as the storm outside began to lull them into a deeper peace. Even the relentless lightning, which had seemed so fierce and unforgiving at first, became something distant, the flickering light barely piercing the soothing darkness that cradled us.

As dawn approached, the storm began to relent, the rain tapering off to a gentle drizzle. It was a morning like any other, yet it carried with it a sense of foreboding, a premonition of the trials to come.

And then, as if on cue, Grub, sent by Shakar's lackeys, appeared in the doorway of our shed. His presence sent a shiver down my spine, for I knew that he bore news of grave importance. Grub's solemn voice broke the silence. His words echoed in the cramped space, sending a shiver down my skin.

"Kaka, little gob," Grub's voice rasped, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and resignation, "Master wants to see you. It is time, he said. Kaka, little gob, you better hurry and don't make master wait, evil goblins do not like to wait. And... and I wish you the best of luck, friends."

Kaka, who had been huddled in the corner of the shed, his frail form wrapped in threadbare rags, looked up with a mixture of fear and anxiety in his eyes. His gaunt face was drawn with exhaustion, the scars of a lifetime of suffering etched into his skin. With a heavy heart, I watched as Kaka rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate.

Kaka's heart sank as Grub delivered the ominous message. He exchanged a somber glance with me, his eyes reflecting a mix of fear and resignation. It was the moment we had been dreading, the inevitable confrontation with our cruel goblin master, Shakar.

With a heavy sigh, Kaka rose from his makeshift bed of straw, his movements slow and sluggish. He spared me a reassuring smile, though it failed to mask the unease etched into his features. 

"Thank you, Grub," he muttered, "I appreciate your kind words. We'll need all the luck we can get."

Grub nodded solemnly, his weathered face twisted in fright. He had seen too many goblins come and go, too many promising souls broken by the cruelty of their master. But he held out hope for Kaka and me, two of the many kind souls he had known.

With a heavy heart, I approached Kaka, his face contorted in pain as he struggled to stand. The wooden handle of the torch, a cruel reminder of the torture inflicted upon him, protruded from his butt like a grotesque appendage. I could see the agony etched into his face, his eyes pleading for relief.

"Come, Kaka," I said softly, trying to mask the fear in my voice.

 "We must go see the master. But first, let me try to remove this wretched thing from your stinky hole."

With trembling hands, I reached out to try and remove the torch, I wrapped my fingers around the rough, splintered wood, but Kaka recoiled in agony, his pained cries echoing in the shed. It was as if the torch had become one with his flesh, its grip refusing to release him from its grasp.

With a deep breath, I grasped it firmly and began to pull, my heart pounding with each tug. Kaka gritted his teeth, his knuckles white as he braced himself against the pain. But the torch handle refused to budge, stubbornly embedded in Kaka's flesh. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized the futility of my efforts.

"Please, little Hermit," Kaka pleaded, his voice strained with pain. 

"It hurts too much. I can't bear it. Let it be. Let it be. It's fine, little Hermit, it's fine. Let's not make the master goblin waiting, let's go. I will manage somehow."

My heart ached at his words, the helplessness of our situation weighing heavy on my scrawny shoulders. I knew that tugging on the torch would only cause Kaka more suffering, and the thought of him enduring such agony was too much to bear.

With a heavy heart, I relented, withdrawing my hands and letting them fall limply to my sides. The torch remained lodged in Kaka's butt.

"Okay, Kaka. I'm sorry. You right, we should go."

With a final, desperate prayer for strength, I helped Kaka to his feet, his body swaying unsteadily as he leaned heavily on me for support. Together, we made our way out of the shed and into the harsh light of day, our hearts heavy with the weight of what lay ahead as we walked toward the cave where Shakar's abode was.

Kaka, his face contorted in pain and humiliation, wobbled and shuffled along the dirt path, his scrawny legs barely able to support his weight. With each step, he winced as the wooden torch handle lodged in his butt jostled uncomfortably, causing him to hobble awkwardly. His posture was hunched, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and his buttocks protruded grotesquely with the torch handle sticking out like a cruel mockery of a tail.

The evil goblin guards we met on the path taunted and jeered at Kaka's pitiful display.

 "Look at him, the sorry excuse for a slave! Can't even walk straight with a stick up his butt! Braaaaghahahaha!" one guard sneered, pointing and laughing as Kaka stumbled past. 

Another guard chimed in with a derisive laugh.

 "Greeeheeehheee! Hey, Kaka, need a hand - or should we say, a torch - to light your way?" he jeered, eliciting cruel laughter from his comrades.

 "Maybe if you wag that torch handle faster, you'll fly off like the shitty bug you are!"

Kaka gritted his teeth against the barrage of insults, his cheeks burning with humiliation as he endured the relentless mockery. 

"Keep shuffling, slave! Maybe you'll find your dignity buried somewhere in the dirt!" another guard taunted, his words cutting deep into Kaka's already wounded pride.

Kaka's cheeks burned with humiliation as he stumbled forward, his eyes downcast, trying to ignore the cruel insults. But the guards wouldn't let up, their insults relentless and ruthless.

"Watch out, everyone! Goblin slave on the loose, and he's armed with a torch handle!" one guard shouted, his voice tinged with sarcasm. 

"Who knows what kind of damage he could do with that thing! Braaaaaaaaaaaggahahahaha!"

The guards' cruel jests crushed Kaka's already broken spirit and the pain seeped away what little strength he had recovered. A painful grimace accompanied each step he took, the wooden handle rubbing against his anus tender flesh with every movement.

Another guard joined in, his voice dripping with malice.

 "Hey, slave! Need a hand with that torch? Or should we just leave it where it is? It suits you, you worthless piece of shit! How's that new tail working out for you?"

The insults continued unabated as Kaka trudged along, his head bowed in shame.

 "Watch out, everyone!" another guard called out, feigning concern.

 "We've got ourselves a torch-wielding goblin on the loose! Don't let him near anything flammable! BAAAAAAGHAAHAHAHA!"

Kaka's gait was a pitiful, miserable sight to behold. The wooden torch handle jammed unceremoniously into his buttocks protruded grotesquely, causing him to wobble and shuffle on his scrawny legs. Every step was a challenge, his body hunched over in agony, his rear end sticking out in a manner that would have been comical if it weren't so tragic. The torch handle wagged mockingly behind him, a humiliating parody of a tail.

As Kaka limped past one particularly sadistic guard, the brute gurgled and spat, producing a massive, disgusting glob of spit. 

"Be grateful, shitty slave! I put out the fire on your torch that's up your ass! Braahahahaha!" he bellowed. 

The spit landed with a sickening splat on Kaka's head, drenching him in filth. The vile liquid clogged his ear, and Kaka, humiliated and miserable, desperately scraped at his ear canal with his bony fingers, trying to remove the disgusting blockage. He shook his hand repeatedly, attempting to rid himself of the sticky spit, but it clung to him like glue.

"Look at him! Can't even clean himself properly," one guard mocked, sneering at Kaka's futile efforts.

 "What a filthy little wretch," another added, his voice filled with contempt.

 "I've seen sewer rats with more dignity!" a third chimed in, eliciting more laughter from the group.

"Look at him!" one guard cackled, his voice raspy with cruel amusement.

 "The walking joke of the camp! Can’t even keep his legs together, poor bugger's got a stick lodged so far up his arse, it's poking out like some fancy royal scepter! Braaaaghahahahaha!"