Chương 51: Chapter 38: Limping Home

Waiting was worse than hunger. Hunger gnawed in ways Grub understood. Waiting set his mind on edge in a way he couldn't name. Each day followed the rhythms he had carved into the tribe. Morning stretches. Fires checked and fed. Pots set to boil. Cloth cut into strips. Resin warmed until it spread. Bandages changed. Wounds inspected. Tea given. Water hauled. Children drilled until their arms shook. The four goblins who had once been slaves barked commands at them across the packed earth, voices loud with purpose.

The three Warriors who'd once lain sweating and half-delirious now moved along the edges of the training space, calling out corrections.

"Lower your stance."

"Grip tighter."

"You fall like that in a real fight, you die." The children listened. They stumbled. They laughed when they fell and swore when their arms burned from holding ready positions too long. Each day they wobbled less. Each day they straightened a little more. Even their games changed. Sticks became spears. Running turned into mock charges and shouted orders. The heart of the tribe, once fragile and fever-struck, beat stronger. But beneath it all, the howls still came.

Some sounded close enough to set hands reaching for spears, while others drifted through the trees from somewhere beyond the hills. Each cry made the children stiffen and drew the Warriors' eyes toward the cave mouth before they returned to their work. Grub felt the echoes settle in his chest and said nothing. Then, one night, the howls stopped. Grub noticed it only after the fire had burned low. No call drifted through the cave mouth. No distant answer passed between the trees.

Even the children seemed to feel the absence, lying awake beneath their furs with their eyes fixed upon the flames. The quiet should have been a relief. Instead, it pressed against the cavern walls. Grub sat with his back to the stone and listened as the forest gave them nothing. Slowly, the meaning settled over him. The wolves were quiet. Whatever was happening out there had reached its end. The next morning, he prepared the cavern as if for battle. Space was cleared beside the main fire.

Furs were laid in straight rows for the wounded. Buckets of fresh water hauled in and set close at hand. Bark and needles set aside, ready to be boiled. The resin was warmed until it softened, then spread on more cloths before being placed aside. Clean bowls. Clean knives. The four goblins helped without being asked, falling back into the comfortable rhythm of preparing the supplies. The three recovered Warriors carried their share. The children fetched wood and tended fires. No one hesitated. No one complained.

Every motion was deliberate and controlled. If the warband returned broken, chaos wouldn't help them. When the goblin watching the approach spotted movement between the trees, his warning shout rang through the cavern. Everyone stilled. Grub motioned to the children. They hurried to collect their spears and formed a line beside the main fire, chests lifted with more pride than discipline. Footsteps dragged across stone. Shadows filled the entrance.

One by one, the Ironfang tribe staggered back into the cavern, spears trailing behind them, armor torn, and bodies streaked with blood and mud. They dropped stacks of heavy wolf pelts near the wall and kept moving, as though stopping might finally allow the battle to catch them. They looked like goblins walking out of a nightmare that hadn't quite released them. There were fewer than had left. Far fewer. Grub counted quickly. Fourteen were missing. His throat constricted, but his hands didn't stop.

"This way," he said, guiding a Warrior toward the prepared furs.

"Lie down." The goblin collapsed onto them with a grimace. Another followed. Some tried to wave Grub away, insisting they could still stand, still work, still fight. Grub ignored them. He pressed them down by the shoulders, checked their wounds, and began deciding who needed help first. The four freed goblins fell into place beside him without instruction. The bark-and-needle wash had already been boiled over the fire and divided between several bowls to cool.

One goblin tested the nearest with his fingers before carrying it over. Another cut cloth while a third washed away blood so the wounds beneath could be seen clearly. Hands steadied trembling limbs. Words were spoken that were not gentle, but came close enough.

"Stay still."

"You tear that open again and you're dead."

"Breathe. It hurts because you're alive."

"You're safe now." No one argued for long. The five of them worked methodically, cleaning each wound until the blood was gone and the damage beneath lay exposed. Resin-dark cloth was pressed down and bound tightly. Black paste sealed seams and edges, fingers moving quickly and without hesitation. Dravak entered last. He walked under his own strength, though slowly, one hand held against his wounded side and his axe dragging behind him. Throk limped beside him, holding an injured arm close to his body.

Kesh followed on Dravak's other side, her bow still in hand and dried blood streaked across her skin. Dravak's axe was black with gore. One side of his armor had been torn open by claws, and blood had stiffened across his arms and chest. His face looked carved from stone. He stopped just inside the cavern and took everything in. The wounded lay upon prepared furs instead of scattered across the floor. Goblins moved among them with bowls, cloth, and practiced hands.

Warriors who might once have died from their sickness stood steady beside the fires. His gaze lingered longest on the children gathered in a crooked line near the main fire, spears clutched in hands that trembled but didn't lower. Grub watched over his shoulder as Dravak crossed to the center and stopped before the makeshift spear line. Some of the weight pressing against Grub's chest eased when he saw the way the Chief looked upon the future Warriors of the Ironfang tribe.

"You stand stronger than when I left," Dravak said. His voice was rough and worn, but it still carried easily through the cavern.

"You trained. You worked. You kept the heart of this tribe beating." He nodded once.

"You did well. I am proud." The children straightened, and broad smiles broke across their faces.

"Grub," Dravak said.

"Come." Grub finished tying the bandage beneath his hands, gestured for the others to continue, and rose. At Dravak's signal, four Warriors carried forward several hide bags and lowered them gently beside the fire. Something inside whined and shifted. The bags were opened, and eleven tiny wolf pups squirmed into the firelight. Their cries were thin, uncertain sounds that echoed strangely off stone.

Their eyes were still clouded blue with blindness, their ears were too large for their heads, and their paws were comically oversized and clumsy. They tumbled over one another, slipping on the smooth rock, noses lifting as they drank in the unfamiliar scents. The children leaned forward as if pulled by invisible strings. Dravak's face remained stern, but his eyes flicked to Grub. He huffed once, his weariness evident in the sound.

"This was your request," he said.

"Speak. Tell us what we should do with these little beasts." The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Grub stepped closer to the fire and crouched beside them. The pups' scent rolled over him, thick with den musk. His hands were steady, though his heart beat faster than he liked. He hadn't imagined that Dravak would actually bring them back. He looked up at Dravak.

"They should go to the children. If they grow together, their bond will be stronger." Dravak nodded.

"Go on then." Grub stood, turned away from the Chief, and addressed the children, whose eyes were still glued to the small mound of wriggling shapes before them. He whistled sharply to get their attention, and once all eyes were on him he spoke.

"These aren't trophies. They are the future of the Ironfang." The words settled into the cavern. Everyone within earshot was listening, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

"Each of you will take one," Grub continued.

"You will raise it. Feed it. Keep it close to you. Care for it as you would your own kin. If you do this right, they will grow with you. They will learn your voice, your scent, your hand." He let his gaze move slowly along the line.

"You are young now. That won't last. One day soon, you will stand here as full Warriors. When that day comes, these wolves will be grown as well. If you make them yours now, they will stand with you then." The children trembled with barely contained excitement. One bounced on his heels. Another wiped his nose on the back of his hand, eyes wide and shining. Grub lifted a hand and pointed.

"You," he said, indicating the female child he'd been watching over the past few days. The one who'd learned the fastest. Who had corrected others without being told, and stepped forward when lines broke and held steady when the others wavered.

"You choose first." Her eyes widened. For a heartbeat she looked as though she might refuse, suddenly aware of every gaze in the cavern. She glanced from side to side at her companions in the line with her, receiving small grins and encouraging nods in response. Then she swallowed, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward. She knelt and studied the pups carefully. She didn't rush her decision. She spent a few moments watching how they moved, which ones pushed forward, and which lagged behind.

At last she pointed to a large black pup with grey paws that were far too large for its body and a stubborn way of climbing over its siblings.

"This one," she said, voice clear. Dravak bent, scooped the small bundle of fur up in one scarred hand, and brought it briefly to eye level. The pup wriggled, then stilled. After a short pause it snapped its jaws towards Dravak and gave a small pitiful growl. Dravak chuckled.

"This one has spirit. A fine choice," he rumbled. He handed it to her. She returned to the line holding the pup tight to her chest, pride shining openly on her face.

"The rest of you," Grub said, "step forward, one at a time. Dravak will give you your wolves." One by one, the children came forward. A gray pup with a white blaze immediately licked the face of the girl who received it, earning a startled laugh. Another tried to chew the leather strap on its handler's wrist. One refused to be held until it was wrapped awkwardly in a cloak. The children clutched them close, chests puffed out, eyes bright.

When each child held a pup, Grub sent them to fetch bowls of scraps from the day's butchery. The pups tumbled into the bowls with squeaks and tiny growls, tearing at the meat with enthusiasm far greater than their size. The children laughed as they watched the tiny wolves. It was a strange moment inside stone walls that had known mostly blood and smoke.

"Grub." Dravak beckoned him over once more and gestured toward the cloth bundled and bunched in a pile on the floor. Something small moved inside. Grub knelt and peeled the cloth back. A thin black head emerged, fur sparse, ribs poking out beneath skin. The smallest pup by far. Its cry was higher, almost frayed. Dravak took it carefully into his hands and felt the trembling weight. After a moment, a rough laugh escaped his chest.

"This one is not meant for me," he said.

"It is yours." He met Grub's eyes.

"You will lead them by example." He set the runt at Grub's feet. The little wolf blinked up at him, then nosed his toes and made a wavering sound, almost like it was trying to howl. It was adorable. Grub lifted it and held the small pup beneath his chin, its heart racing against his chest. A thin smile crept across his face.

"I will name you Sable," he murmured to the small creature. Later, when the worst wounds had been tended and the cavern had settled into a low murmur of voices, breathing, and crackling fire, Grub returned to Dravak. The Chief had finally lowered himself onto the stone seat beside the main hearth. His axe rested against it within easy reach, its blade blackened with drying blood but its edge still keen. One side of his armor had been torn open.

Thick hide hung in ragged strips, and the crude leather beneath bore deep tracks from the alpha's claws. Blood had dried stiffly along his forearm, shoulder, and ribs, dark against the older scars beneath. Dravak leaned back against the stone with one elbow resting upon the arm of his seat, his head propped against his hand as he watched the flames. He didn't look up when Grub knelt beside him. Grub set down his bowls and carefully peeled the ruined leather away from Dravak's forearm.

The bite beneath was deep, the flesh torn unevenly and swollen purple around the edges. He poured the cooled bark-and-needle wash over it. Dravak's jaw clenched at the sting, but he didn't pull away. For a time, neither of them spoke. There was only the fire, the quiet movement of the four freed goblins among the wounded, and the rough breathing of Warriors who had survived long enough to reach home.

"There are fewer voices," Dravak said at last. Grub pressed a clean cloth against the bite.

"Yes."

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen so far," Grub replied.

"Two of the wounded may not survive the night. Another might last longer, but I don't know whether I can save him." Dravak's eyes remained upon the fire.

"I counted when we returned. Then I counted again, though I didn't need to." His gaze moved slowly across the cavern.

"A cave tells you when that many are gone." Grub began winding resin-dark cloth around his arm, drawing it tight enough to hold without cutting off the blood beneath.

"Some of those who stayed behind are standing now." Dravak looked beyond the flames. The three Warriors who had spent days shaking beneath fever now stood near the cave mouth, leaning upon spears as they took the first watch of the evening. The four freed goblins moved among the wounded without waiting for instruction, carrying bowls, cutting cloth, and checking bindings. Near the hearth, the children sat with the pups gathered between them, their spears still within reach.

"I see them," Dravak said.

"I didn't expect that. You continue to surprise me, Grub." Grub smoothed the binding into place.

"When I left, this cavern felt like a cracked bone," Dravak continued.

"One more blow, and the tribe would have broken with it."

"And now?" Dravak considered the question.

"Now it has been bound." His gaze passed across the wounded and the goblins tending them.

"The break is still there. So is the pain. But it may hold long enough to heal."

"That was all I was trying to give you," Grub said.

"Time, and fewer mistakes than before." Dravak watched his hands as Grub began cutting the ruined armor away from his shoulder.

"You took risks inside these walls."

"So did you outside them." Dravak looked down at him.

"You think I chose poorly?"

"I think you chose what you had to," Grub said.

"That doesn't make the cost smaller." For several breaths, Dravak said nothing. Then one corner of his mouth lifted.

"Most goblins would tell their Chief that the dead only prove how great the victory was."

"Then most goblins lie to you." A tired huff escaped Dravak. Kesh glanced up from the folded hide where she sat cleaning her bowstring.

"He speaks to everyone that way," she said.

"It isn't only you."

"That isn't reassuring."

"No," Kesh replied with a small shrug.

"But it is honest." Grub continued cleaning the wounds along Dravak's shoulder as though neither of them had spoken. A short distance away, Throk sat upon another folded hide with his injured leg stretched before him. His bitten arm had already been washed and bound, though he still held it close against his side.

"You did better than I expected," he said. Several nearby goblins looked toward him. Throk's expression soured beneath the attention.

"That doesn't mean I trust every strange thought that enters your head."

"That's fair," Grub said. Dravak shifted in his seat while Grub poured the cooled wash across the claw marks along his shoulder.

"I placed what remained of my tribe in your hands," he said.

"There was little choice in the matter, but I still trusted you to carry the weight." Grub pressed folded cloth against the wound.

"It didn't feel like trust."

"No," Dravak said.

"It felt like a burden."

"You could have said what you were doing."

"I could have." Grub lowered his eyes and began binding the shoulder. Dravak watched him for several breaths before his gaze shifted toward the pups sleeping among the children.

"What you've accomplished here is why I brought the pups home instead of killing them." Grub followed his eyes.

"Every lesson the forest ever taught me said to leave no threat behind," Dravak continued.

"Take no risk that can grow teeth and return to bite you." One of the pups stretched across a child's lap, paws flexing in its sleep.

"But I have spent weeks watching your strange ideas produce results I couldn't dismiss." Throk grunted.

"I suggested dismissing several of them."

"You also suggested throwing him back into the forest," Kesh said.

"I was being cautious."

"You wanted to see whether the wolves would eat him."

"That would've answered several questions." Grub glanced toward him.

"I'm glad Dravak chose another way." Throk shrugged with his uninjured shoulder.

"So far." Dravak ignored them.

"I allowed your work to continue because it strengthened the tribe," he said.

"I decided the pups deserved the same chance to prove their value." His gaze settled upon Grub.

"I am trusting that this decision will bear fruit as well." The fire cracked between them. Then the faint amusement left Dravak's face.

"Which brings me to the question you have avoided since you arrived." The movements nearest the hearth slowed.

"Your ideas sound foolish when you first speak them," Dravak said.

"Then they work. I can accept the results. What I find harder to accept is that they came from nowhere." Kesh straightened.

"I've met goblins from more tribes than most," she said.

"None of them speak as he does."

"Or think as he does," Dravak added. His gaze remained fixed upon Grub.

"You see uses where the rest of us see waste. You ask questions no other goblin thinks to ask. You speak as though you remember answers no one ever taught you." Dravak leaned forward despite the pain it caused him.

"So tell me where you came from." Most of the eyes within earshot turned toward Grub. He met the Chief's stare.

"As I told you before, I was separated from my tribe and became lost in the forest. Throk found me and brought me here." Dravak studied him.

"That answer hasn't improved with repetition."

"It's still the answer I have."

"I don't believe you." The cavern seemed to hold its breath. At the edge of the firelight, Throk's jaw clenched once. Kesh remained still beside him, her slate resting against her thigh, though her eyes flicked briefly toward Dravak. Grub continued pressing the cloth against the Chief's shoulder.

"Then what happens now?" Dravak leaned back against the stone and closed his eyes.

"Now I decide whether the lie matters more than what you have done for my tribe." Grub waited. After several breaths, Dravak spoke again.

"It doesn't." The unspoken qualification hung between them. Not yet. Throk said nothing, but some of the tension left his jaw. Kesh lowered her gaze to the slate once more. Dravak opened his eyes.

"You may keep your secrets until you are ready to surrender them. But understand this, Grub. I am allowing you to do so because your work strengthens my tribe. If that changes, so will my patience." Grub inclined his head.

"That's fair." Dravak's iron teeth caught the firelight as he smiled.

"You say that often for a goblin who rarely behaves as though anything is settled." Grub lowered his attention to the binding.

"Your shoulder is going to hurt."

"It already does."

"It will hurt more when I tighten this."

"Then stop talking and finish." Grub pulled the cloth tight. Dravak grunted but didn't move.

"There. Done." He reached for his bowls, but one of the four freed goblins stepped forward and gathered them first.

"We have the others." Grub let him take them. Near the hearth, the girl from earlier lay on her side with two pups curled against her. The large black pup with gray paws that she'd chosen was sprawled across her legs, while Sable slept tucked against her chest with her narrow muzzle buried beneath one paw. Grub crossed to her and crouched. The child looked down at Sable before reluctantly holding her out.

"She likes me," she whispered.

"She likes being warm," Grub said. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you for taking her for me." Sable stirred as Grub lifted her, blinking drowsily before pressing her tiny nose against his chest. He carried her carefully to the furs beside the fire and settled down with her tucked against him. Within moments, she had curled beneath his chin, one small paw resting against his ribs as she slumbered. Grub laid an arm around her, closed his eyes, and let the warmth of her breathing carry him into sleep as well.