40. A Conversation needs to happen
A crude leather patch over a ruined socket
You're sat outside, with a cool night time breeze whispering across your skin.
A snarl of rage on a half familiar face
You're not sure of the time.
A hollow thump with every second step
You swallow. Scars are just like monstrous appearance, you think, over and over. You force yourself to relive the scene again.
A gravely voice, and feathers in her hair
Again.
An urge to train. An urge to overcome weakness
Again.
A grace of movement that even the lost leg couldn't rob her of. A tightly controlled core of rage. And feathers in her hair.
You turn to your left, and nuzzle Sapphire. She jerks awake, and smiles sleepily at you.
Still the same. Still her. Still your goblin chieftainess.
You turn to your right, and nuzzle Feathers. She, unlike your oldest minion, hadn't fallen asleep. After her rage had worked its way through her, she had grabbed you by the horns and dragged you out here. You hadn't exactly resisted. She'd pointed your head out towards the forest, and sat behind you out of sight, and talked. Sapphire had joined you around sunset with food, and you both listened.
And then you thought about the scars.
You looked at Feathers in the pale starlight. Under their soft radiance, the network of scars that has crawled up her body don't look so harsh.
You feel Sapphire snuggle back into you and her breathing even out into sleep once more.
“What happened?” you murmur.
Feathers snorts. “Dumb goblins happens. But sneaky too. I forget not all goblins worship Krog. Some worship Krom. It was a trap.”
She lapses into silence, and while at first you want to press her for details, you eventually realise as the silence stretches on that she has said everything she will.
As if to prove you wrong, as soon as you've made peace with the idea of never learning exactly what happened, Feathers speaks again. Her voice is lower than before, and resonates like a finger dragging around the largest wineglass in the world.
“Greenberries. Poisonous name and poisonous tribe. Not happy with me from the start. MY tribe used to fight them sometimes. Recognised me, somehow. Was no one before you.” She is still sat behind you, resting her back against yours, so you have to imagine the smoulder in her eyes. “They bow and look away, act afraid, act nice. All an act. They take me to longhouse. They have crystal claimed land. They lock me inside. Three of them turn up. Three champions.”
She pauses again, and Sapphire mutters in her sleep.
“One took eye. I split her cunt to tits, but sword got stuck in bone. Took her spear thing. One took leg. I choke him to death with it. One tries to run. Door locked. She scream and bang on door, let me out, she going to kill me. Instead, they set longhouse on fire. Her, I didn't hate. She tried to help us out. Pushed me out of the way of falling roof. Took my place. I set her free.”
Another long pause, interrupted again by Sapphire. This time, it's less a mumble and more words that you can understand. “Greenberries. War.”
You hush your favourite bloodthirsty runt and she nudges your forelimb until you move it, allowing her to curl up with her head and upper torso in between your forepaws. She smiles in her half-sleep.
“Then I ran. Burnt. Fell into river. Washed up on shore of Breakbone tribe. Good name. Honest name. Krog name. Nearly kill me for belonging to Greenberries. Convince them to help instead. They heal me, slowly. Give me leg and patch. Supplies to get home.”
This time, the silence that falls feels final. The chill air of night time presses in on you, kept at bay by your own fire and the warmth of the two women against you. You have no wish to go in just yet.
You look at Feathers again. From her position, it's easy to see the network of scar tissue that has crawled up her side. Her armour is looser on this side – belts and plates rather than solid leather. To display her scars? Or for comfort?
“I will have to go there one day. Sooner than later.”
Feathers grunts.
“The Breakbones sound like they will be a valuable asset. And the Greenberries can, of course, not be allowed to continue.”
Grunt.
You nuzzle Feathers' cheek, and she turns towards you with a jerk. Her eye searches yours and you let it. Her strength, her tough exterior comes flaking away and the two of you kiss with a slow burning passion that you're not sure you've ever felt from the gobliness before. When you separate, she rests her forehead against yours.
“Redscale. I think I love you.”
The admission isn't really surprising, but you feel a frisson of shock up your spine anyway. From the oddly correct way she has spoken, you think it likely that she has been rehearsing that line for some time.
You open your mouth to reply but she shakes her head, still against yours. “No. Goblin live short time. Love quick, love bright. Drake like long time. Slow love. Will come, and shine like sun. But now, I love you, and that all that matter to me.”
You stay like that, revelling in the closeness and acceptance that the two of you share until Feathers breaks the silence again.
“You evolve later, yes? Get your fame?”
“Yes.”
“Then tonight, for maybe last time, fuck me?”
You can feel her words ignite a pressure in your gut and your cock starts to slide out of its sheath but you force yourself to ask “Why would it be the last time?”
Feathers grins – it's a look filled with promises and expectations - “Drake pretty big. Goblin only small. If cock bigger than her, both must be... creative in giving and getting pleasure.”
Sapphire murmurs once more, the sound of someone waking up, and with a start you realise your cock is pressing against the back of the Kobold's head, rubber her face into the ground.
“But tonight,” your gobliness whispers, “fuck us both, many times, so all is good again.”