Chapter 11 Fallen Friends

The guards and the goblin master Rakrak inspected the wall, their eyes critically scanning every stone and timber. 

While lying in a puddle of mud, I saw that the master was satisfied with the wall we built. He was grinning from ear to ear, a look of sadistic pleasure on his face.

When he was done inspecting our handiwork, Rakrak walked up to me. His boots squelched in the mud as he approached, the sound ominous and foreboding. He loomed over me, his shadow casting a dark pall over my already bleak existence.

"You did good, slave, very good," he sneered, his voice dripping with delight. 

"It pleases me, the work you slaves did. I will be generous and reward you all with a bit of rest. You are free till the next morning, but the caves and hatchery await. Your work will start early in the morning. I expect good things from you, Hermit. You will be responsible for the workflow. Prove yourself useful, and maybe I will reward you."

With that said, he left me lying in the mud without even waiting for my response. It wasn't a request but a command. The rest of the slaves, hearing his decree, collapsed completely, some sobbing quietly in the muck, others too drained even for tears.

Our bodies were broken, our spirits crushed, but for the moment, we had a sliver of respite. We lay there, unmoving, the silence of the forest broken only by our labored breathing. Mud soaked into our ravaged skin, the cold seeping into our bones. Despite the filth and discomfort, the little rest we got was a small mercy in a world of unending torment.

As night fell, the temperature dropped dramatically, turning the air into an icy blade that sliced through our already weakened bodies. We were miserable, our scrawny frames barely providing any insulation against the cold. To make it worse, rain began to fall, first in light sprinkles, then in a torrential downpour that soaked us to the bone. The icy water streamed down our faces, mingling with the blood and sweat that already stained our skin.

We scrambled to our shelter, barely enough to shield us all, a group of desperate slaves. Our leaf shelters quickly became sodden, providing little protection from the relentless rain. We were left shivering and exposed, the cold seeping into our bones.

With no other option, we huddled together in a pathetic pile of filthy, sweat-soaked bodies. Our limbs intertwined in a desperate attempt to share what little warmth we had left. We clung to each other, our fingers numb and clumsy, our bodies shaking violently with cold and exhaustion. The stench of our unwashed bodies, mixed with the grime of the day's labor, was overwhelming, but we were too miserable to care.

The rain continued to fall, each raindrop a tiny dagger of ice that pricked our skin. Our teeth chattered uncontrollably, and our breath came in ragged, visible puffs. The ground beneath us turned to mud, cold and slick, making it even harder to find any semblance of comfort. We were mired in a pit of misery, our situation growing more hopeless with each passing minute.

We, goblin slaves, cherished the rare moments of basking in the sun. We loved the steaming climate, a small respite from our endless torment. The steaming hot climate was our solace; its warmth seeped into our bones, offering a fleeting sense of comfort. The sun was our only friend, casting a golden glow over our broken bodies, giving us a brief escape from the harsh realities of our lives. We would lay under the sun, our eyes closed, savoring every precious moment of its radiant heat. The warmth felt like a gentle embrace, a reminder of better days, a promise of life beyond the suffering. In those moments, we almost felt alive again, our spirits lifted, if only for a short while.

But now, as the day faded and the sun dipped below the horizon, our nightmare began anew. The cold nights were a living hell to us. The temperature plummeted, and the cold gnawed at our bones, seeping into every crack and crevice of our frail bodies. We huddled together for warmth, our emaciated forms trembling uncontrollably. Our thin, tattered skin did not protect against the biting chill. Each breath was a struggle, our lungs burning with the effort to draw in the freezing air.

 Our skin turned blue, our teeth chattered violently, and our fingers and toes felt like they might snap off from the cold. Sleep was impossible; the cold kept us awake, kept us shivering, kept us suffering. We longed for the dawn, for the return of the sun's warmth, but the night stretched on endlessly, an unforgiving expanse of time that mocked our pain.

The hours dragged on. Our bodies grew weaker, our movements slower, as the cold sapped what little strength we had left. We tried to share stories, to keep our spirits up, but our voices were thin and frail, the words losing their meaning as the night wore on.

 "I'm so cold... I can't feel my fingers anymore. How are we supposed to survive like this?"

"Stay close, everyone," Scrag muttered, his teeth clattering from the chill, "We have to keep each other warm. It's the only way we'll make it through the night."

"Scrag's right. We just need to hold on a little longer. The rain will stop eventually, and we'll build a shelter that's better than this. We will." I said, trying to sound reassuring.

"I hope you're right. I don't know how much longer I can take this cold."

One of the younger goblins, whimpered, "I c-can't take it anymore. We're g-going to die out here. My bones feel like they're turning to ice. It's like the rain's seeping right into my soul."

"I can't do this. I just want to lie down and never get up. It's so cold, I can't feel my fingers and toes anymore. I... I can't... I can't go on..." muttered another goblin, his teeth clattering.

"Stay with us, brother. Don't give up." Scrag encouraged him.

 I could hear the faint whispers of my fellow slaves. They spoke of home, of families lost and dreams shattered. Their voices were hoarse and broken, each word a struggle. 

"My little one. My precious hatchling. They took him. I... I don't even know if he's alive." Sobbed one of the elder goblins, tears mingling with the rain on his face.

"I had a family too. They... they were all killed. I saw it happen. I couldn't do anything." Mumbled another, his eyes glazed over. 

"Remember the nights by the fire? We used to tell stories... sing songs..." croaked an older goblin, his voice filled with longing.

"Those days are gone, we're nothing now. Just waiting to die." Whimpered another, his name lost in the darkness. 

"I miss my Dada. He used to sing to me... I can't even remember his face anymore."

"I miss my family. My mate, my hatchlings... I don't even know if they're still alive. We're all going to die here, aren't we? Just like those before us."

"I can't take this cold anymore. My teeth are clattering so hard, I think they might shatter."

"I lost my hatchlings too. They were so small, barely even a day old. I promised to keep them safe, but I failed. The evil goblins... they... ate them for snacks," another slave burst into tears recounting his loss.

"I know how you feel. I miss my little ones too. They were so small, so precious..."

Others were lost in delirium from exhaustion and hypothermia, they were lying in the mud face down. They mumbled incoherently, their eyes glazed over, their minds adrift in a sea of suffering. 

"Muma... where are you? Dada... taken from me... all gone..."

"Please... make it stop..." a voice whimpered, but there was no one to answer the plea. We were alone in our suffering, abandoned in this merciless world.

Tears mixed with rainwater on their faces, their sorrow adding to the weight of our collective misery. Each whisper and spoken word was a dagger to the heart, a reminder of all we had lost and the cruelty we had endured.

Some had simply given up. They lay face down in the wet mud, their bodies convulsing weakly as the cold overtook them. Their spirits were broken, and their will to fight was extinguished. The mud clung to their skin, mixing with blood and grime, turning them into pitiful, shivering heaps of despair.

The reality of our situation was crushing, the weight of our hopelessness was too much to bear. We were a pitiful sight - a group of ragged, starved goblins, huddled together in the mud, trying to fend off the cold with our meager bodies.

As the night dragged on, we clung to each other more desperately, our fingers digging into each other's flesh, seeking warmth and comfort. The rain continued to fall, a relentless torrent that seemed determined to drown us. Our shivering grew more violent, our bodies unable to generate enough heat to fend off the chill.

When dawn finally broke, it brought with it a sense of dread. Our bodies ached from the cold and the hard ground, and the prospect of another day of backbreaking labor loomed over us like a dark cloud. But for now, we had a few more precious moments of rest. We lay there, eyes closed, trying to savor the fleeting peace before the nightmare resumed.

The goblin master’s words echoed in my mind. Prove yourself useful. The promise of a reward dangled before me like a cruel joke. I knew better than to hope for kindness from Rakrak, but in this hellish existence, even the illusion of mercy was something to cling to. I resolved to survive, to endure, and perhaps, one day, to find a way back to the open plains, to my gobbie friends. 

The morning came, shrouded in a heavy mist that clung to the ground like a ghostly blanket. As we stirred from our fitful sleep, the cold air bit at our exposed skin. The freezing rain that seeped into our makeshift shelter, chilling us to the bone, had stopped. Slowly, we rose to our feet, our bodies aching and stiff from the harsh conditions.

But not all of us rose that morning. The freezing air and relentless rain had claimed a few of us over the night. As we looked around, we saw the lifeless forms of our fallen friends crumpled in the muck. Their once green skin, now pallid and gray, told the story of their suffering. They lay motionless, their eyes closed forever.