I backed away slowly, heart pounding like it was trying to make up for all the times it refused to race when it should have.
The goblins didn't move presumably dead.
One lay twisted near a root, jaw bent at an angle that made my stomach roll. The other was crumpled in the dirt with its chest… wrong. Caved in like I'd hit it with a truck instead of my body.
I stared at them, waiting for the delayed horror to hit. It didn't. Not fully. I felt sick, sure—my throat tight, my tongue dry—but the panic wasn't there. The shock wasn't there. It was like my fear had been muffled the same way my pain had been when I pressed my thumb into my palm. I only felt adrenaline.
I forced myself to breathe.
Didn't need to, apparently. My lungs stayed calm, patient, like they were waiting for a command instead of reacting to my body's demands. Apnea. The word had felt like nothing when the screen showed it.
Now it felt like proof.
I looked down at my arms and shoulders.
Blood streaked my skin in dark lines, tacky where it had started to dry. Three long scratches ran across my back—deep enough that they should have been throbbing. I twisted, trying to see them better.
They should have hurt.
They did, technically. A sharp sting, like a scrape you don't notice until you wash it. But that was all. No heat. No swelling. No frantic pulse of pain screaming you're injured, you're injured, you're injured. It was a strange sensation. I wonder if it might be shock? I knew what shock was well kinda. If there was ever a time to be in it, it was definitely now.
I wiped my hand across my shoulder. The blood smeared red across my palm.
Warm.
At least something was warm.
I swallowed and forced my eyes back to the goblins. One of them had been dragging a sack. The sack lay on its side, the knot loosened when it fell. Whatever was inside whined again—small, scared, alive.
I hesitated.
My brain offered me a dozen reasons not to go near it. Trap. Poison. Another goblin hiding. If you open it and something jumps out— But I couldn't just leave it there.
I stepped closer, careful, scanning the grass. Nothing moved. The field didn't lean. No whispering stalks reached for my ankles. Just wind.
I crouched beside the sack and tugged the knot loose the rest of the way.
A small creature spilled out—no bigger than a housecat. It was all bone-thin limbs and matted fur, eyes too large for its face. It scrambled backward, pressed itself against the dirt, and bared tiny teeth at me.
Not human.
Relief hit so hard my knees almost buckled, for all I knew it could have been a child ooooooooor yeah another goblin though both had seemed unlikely.
"Hey," I whispered, holding my hands up slowly like it could understand. "I'm not going to… I'm not going to eat you. Okay?" it was definitely too scrawny to eat though I have ro admit the thought did cross my mind only I didn't have fire or know how to make any. So little critter was having a lucky day it seemed.
The creature blinked, trembling.
I didn't know what it was. Some kind of rabbit-thing. A weird forest ferret. Something that belonged only here thats for sure. It did have little hubby horns.
Something that had been food five minutes ago.
I glanced at the goblins again and felt my stomach twist for a different reason. They were people-shaped enough that killing them should have felt like killing people. But they weren't people.
Right?
I waited for guilt to crawl up my spine. What I got instead was a flat, cold thought. They would have killed you.
That was true.
I stood abruptly, the small creature darting away into the grass. I needed to get moving before I lost more daylight.
I turned away from the bodies, refusing to look at them any longer, and started walking. Fast. Not running, but close. The field and forest blurred past, my bare feet had a tough time on the ground without shoes. At first it was okay but after so long walking and running nonstop they begain to see wear and tear. Some blood and and some blisters there.
I stopped, chest rising slowly, and looked down.
The scratches across my shoulders was still seeping blood. I need to rest soon. The sting had faded at least.
That alone should have made me feel better. Instead, it left me unsettled.
Pain was supposed to be loud. Persistent. It was meant to demand attention. This—this was quiet, like my body had decided the damage wasn't worth arguing over.
I lowered myself onto a fallen log and flexed my toes. My feet throbbed dully now, raw and blistered from hours of bare contact with roots and stone. Small smears of blood darkened the ground beneath them.
There must be something to this... was it my endurance? Maybe pain had to reach a certain threshold otherwise it would become more muted? This was my best guess. Because my feet hurt like a bitch while the gashes on my back bearly tickled now. Well they had stopped bleeding at some point.
I let my head fall forward for a moment, elbows on my knees, breathing slow and measured even though I didn't need to. The forest smelled damp and green and old, like wet leaves and cold earth layered over something deeper.
I pushed myself back up and kept moving, this time slower. Careful. The adrenaline had burned itself out, leaving behind exhaustion that felt heavier than it should have for someone who'd just survived a fight.
The terrain began to slope downward.
At first I thought it was just uneven ground, but then I heard it—a low, steady sound threading through the forest. Not wind. Not movement.
Water.
I stopped, listened again, then angled toward the sound.
The trees thinned as I went. Ferns gave way to smooth stones half-buried in moss, slick underfoot. The air grew colder, sharper, carrying the clean, unmistakable scent of fresh water.
A river emerged from between two boulders, winding its way through the forest like a dull silver ribbon. Not wide, but fast-moving, the current tugging at rocks and roots as it passed.
Relief hit me hard enough that I had to steady myself.
Water meant survival it was also the prime spot for other humans like me...
I crouched at the bank, hesitating only a second before dipping my hands in. The cold bit instantly, but I scooped and drank anyway, letting the water spill over my lips and chin.
It tasted soooo good. Clean and crisp.
I drank until my stomach protested, then leaned back on my hands and stared up at the canopy above, watching the leaves sway.
Shelter. Food. Rest. I could do that right? I'd already accomplished the most important step.
I devided to follow the river downstream, if people were anywhere near surely he would find them near a water sorce like this one. He was trying his best to keep to the shadows where he could. The forest here felt… watched. He honestly wasn't sure if it would suddenly secide to eat him like the field had.
After a while a long long while, and after plenty of slips and face plants, I spotted it. A cave.
It sat a short distance from the riverbank, half-hidden behind a curtain of vines and stone. The entrance was wide enough to walk into without crouching, and the rock above it curved inward, shielding the opening from sun or wind or rain.
Too perfect.
I slowed immediately, scanning the area, but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Then I noticed a detail as I approached the caves mouth. Small claw marks scattered along the rocks. I frowned.
These couldn't be? An image of the small green people flashed in my mind and I grimaced. Goblins? It could easily be a bear or something well it would have to be a baby bear... maybe a small cat or some other creature. I didn't really matter if the creature had claws like these he needed to be weary.
My pulse picked up a notch.
I crept closer, careful where I placed my feet. Near the cave entrance, I saw signs of use—scratches on the stone increasing, old fire marks darkening the rock just inside, bits of bone and debris scattered near the edges. Damn these guys could speak and use fire. Not to mention making weapons... I again knew I should feel guilty for killing the little guys earlier but for some reason I couldn't even though I knew I should.
This cave was clearly occupied, at least on occasions. Maybe just maybe it had been those two passing through the area from earlier. He would like to think this.
Still there was no way to know for sure. I retreated a few steps and crouched behind a cluster of rocks, watching the cave mouth. No movement yet.
Part of me whispered to leave. To keep following the river until nightfall, find somewhere less dangerous, even if it meant sleeping in the open.
Another part of me—colder, more practical—pointed out that caves meant warmth, cover, and defensible space. And goblins meant predictable threats.
I hugged my arms around myself, fingers brushing the pale skin there, and exhaled slowly.
"Okay," I whispered. "Careful, then."
I stayed where I was as the light began to fade, memorizing the cave's shape, the way the river curved nearby, the paths goblins would have to take to approach it.
If I was going to rest, it would be here.
But not until I knew who I was sharing it with.
I settled deeper into the shadows and waited.