Tales from the Tree

First published in The Red Penny Papers.

The tale of a goblin out to explore today’s world.

It may just change that world, not necessarily for the better!

~~

Outside was forbidden to NeckBreaker, more so during daylight hours.

Scrambling, slunk low to the ground, it ignored the prohibition and darted among the overgrown, ornamental shrubs planted decades earlier on the grounds of the once grand Victorian house, a home built originally for humans. The three-story structure now hosted a single goblin family, an enclave of two adult procreators and their Get, NeckBreaker, still immature and ungendered at three years of age.

The young goblin tracked two human females, the almost-adults called teens. If it made the somewhat still difficult effort to balance on hind limbs, it rose to chin height of the females. They strolled along the sidewalk on their skinny hind limbs, less wobbly than its effort. Their destination was something called school, the weekday gathering place for human get.

Get, like me.

NeckBreaker, ears cupped forward, gathered in their conversation.

Such annoying voices–it preferred the screeches of the human females, high pitched shrills, unlike the calls of the once numerous song birds on the property.

“Horrible sounding but so delicious.”

The dark-skinned human, its favorite, shrieked. “You’re kidding, stop it! Jeremy’s party? A junior, Mon Dieu, and he’s so hot.”

“Uh, huh, sizzling!” said the worm pale one. “And he told me to bring a girlfriend. All those older guys and Jeremy’s soccer teammates. Too bad his parents will be there.”

“You want me to go? Really? Me?”

“No, Ettie, your brother. Who else? You’re my newest, best friend.”

“I don’t know. “Manman mwen….”

“Huh? What?”

“My mother, my mother!”

“Yeah, so, your mother? You’re fourteen; this is America, not Haiti. Besides, Jeremy’s parents will be there. And how’s your mom goin’ to know anything? Just leave the dance a little early, that’s all. My parents are driving us there. They’ll take you home, too, later. Don’t worry.”

Ettie stopped biting her lower lip.

“I don’t know, Clara. I…oh, it sounds like such fun. Okay. But what will I wear?”

“Uh, hello. Your costume? The same one you’ll be wearing at the dance. You know, the HALLOWEEN dance! Yeesh.”

Halloween dance? Costume? Party? My procreators would know.

NeckBreaker calculated some way to ask his procreators without arousing their suspicion.

Immediately behind it, the nearby branches of a bush parted. A scaled arm and clawed hand reached through, hooked a single talon beneath a patch of NeckBreaker’s scales: the discipline zone, a vulnerable area between its shoulder blades where the immature scales had yet to thicken into an adult goblin’s living chainmail.

The claw gouged NeckBreaker’s unprotected flesh. It trilled in pain. A choke-chain slipped over its head and tightened around the throat to cut off the howl.

Despite the distress, its attention remained fixated on the teens who clutched one another’s arms. Goblin male procreators were skilled at mind-veiling; the human get saw only what the adult male allowed them to see: a very human Mr. Breaker dressed in a business suit ready for work, a dog leash in his hand. The image would calm any human instinct to flee nibbling at the edges of their weak minds.

The pale get broke the frightened silence. “God! What was that…that scream? Some kind of animal, like it’s dying. I hope an animal.”

The procreator yanked on the leash, dragged NeckBreaker out from the bushes beneath the bay window.

The pale get pulled at her friend, standing in place like a statue, her breath completely still.

“Ugh, my god,” Clara said, “that’s one ugly…uh, one ugly…dog. Come on, Ettie….” She yanked again on her friend’s arm. “Ettie, let’s get out of here. Ettie! Come on!”

Ettie unfroze.

“Wi, wi…uh, yes. Yes!”

As the teens hurried across the street, he pale one added, “They’re a really weird family; no one even goes there for Halloween. Not me, anyway. Jeremy said he saw a kid once. I don’t know. Nobody else ever did.”

NeckBreaker strained against the chain as the adult towed it up the steps and across the porch. It scrabbled, claws slipping on the wood but its stare remained glued to the females. A final yank on the leash spun it over the threshold, into the gloom of the interior.

The door slammed shut.

~~

NeckBreaker’s male procreator, TalonSlash-breaker, sat at the feeding table. He hissed, a sibilance impossible for a human to duplicate, a product of his bifurcated tongue.

“Our get’s behavior troubles me. A defective, possibly? NeckBreaker is skilled at escape but its development outstrips its maturity. We must ….” He interrupted himself to adopt a more respectful tone. “Its disobedience places us at risk. I fear its capture. It is yet too ignorant of the human world to stalk safely or hunt any creature, let alone cull humans. Perhaps, we may need to–abort it.”

The only abortion in which TalonSlash participated during his six breeding cycles with previous partners proved to be a tasty treat, a blind hatchling from his coupling with an Asian she-goblin. The normal goblin coupling breakup ended poorly. His partner blamed him for the defective get and in her rage attempted to cull him from their race without the World Goblin Council’s permission.

He barely escaped with his life, significantly due in part to the council’s intervention. Assuring the greatest number of functional breeding partners was one of their highest priorities.

TalonSlash’s current breeding partner, ShankBreaker, was bent over her meal across the table. Her eyes glanced upward; her maw followed, soaked with blood. The last two sewer rats on the feeding mat writhed and squirmed in an escape attempt despite their broken legs.

Her gaze fixed on the he-goblin; she elongated a talon and speared a rat through the skull. The remaining rodent was imprisoned behind the five talon “bars” of her left paw-hand.

“Show some hunter’s cunning!” she growled in annoyance. “You judge too soon. Its development is different, yes. A wonder, far beyond its years. A gift, perhaps. Difficult to control, I agree but….” Her orange eyes narrowed, her focus turned inward. “My instinct anticipates…something. Something. No more talk of abortion. Enough.”

When a she-goblin issued a command, no male breeding partner in his right mind dared to differ. Most she-goblins could best two males at once.

Winners consumed losers.

TalonSlash feared no retaliation as long as he maintained his utility. He-goblins integrated more successfully than she-goblins into the workaday world of humans. The males sustained the mind-veil more effectively, far longer and the ultraviolet wavelengths of daylight harmed their vision less, though it lessened their nocturnal hunting skill.

Many he-goblins excelled at human financial pursuits, assuring the survival of their race among mankind who outnumbered goblins a hundred-thousand and more to one. TalonSlash worked as an investment adviser in a Wall Street hedge fund. Two colleagues in his department also mind-veiled themselves; extremely territorial by nature, each kept their distance one from the other, a standard precaution among goblins. The remaining advisers in essence were human versions of goblins and…he reluctantly admitted…a credit to their race.

~~

NeckBreaker turned the glass doorknob of its false-death room, a human get’s former bedroom before the young goblin’s hatching; long-ago, the entire family had been consumed. As they did tonight, the procreators often attempted to imprison it inside the third-story room. Especially this night.

Locked from the outside. Why? So stupid. Escape is easy.

It loped toward the tall window and leaned its claws on the windowsill scarred with scores of scratches, the furrowed gouges proof of its determination to master upright walking, though only three-years of age.

Four-and-a-half to five years was the norm for a goblin to mature, when the hind limbs straightened, the talons fully retracted, and its head shifted upright on shoulders in a passable mimic of a human stance…an easier to mind-veil human stance.

The unlit interior of the century-old house concealed NeckBreaker’s surveillance of the outside grounds and street. Silhouetting the treetops, the moon swelled as round as a belly stuffed with prey. Behind him, the moon glow cast NeckBreaker’s shadow, centered in an elongated window shape across the floor.

Along the street below, human get hurried from house-to-house, their faces concealed, their bodies clothed in stranger than normal material. None of the get approached the darkened Victorian. All carried bags of some sort. Doors opened at the houses. The offspring shouted, crowded the adults who emerged to toss objects into the raised bags.

Curiosity gripped NeckBreaker.

Was the dark female, the Ettie, completing the same ritual, too? Approaching her without arousing fear may be possible. Risky, but possible. But why make the attempt?

No hunger or overwhelming predator’s desire drove NeckBreaker. Its instinct insisted the answer lay outside.

NeckBreaker escaped the confines of the room. Hunched low, it scurried across the street. The goblin clutched in its claw a bag abandoned by a frightened human get upon seeing him–all the better to pass as human. Instinct compelled it to seek out shadows and available hiding places to observe the human ritual.

An eager group without an adult guardian pounded the entranceway of a house. NeckBreaker scampered unnoticed to the edge of the distracted crowd. The door opened. Light from the interior doused them and their upheld bags.

“Trick or treat!”

“Oh, my,” said a human female peering from the open doorway. “Here are some treats, so keep away those tricky tricks.” She held out a large, pumpkin shaped container. The human get crowded against one another to grab clawfulls. “Hey, hey. Now, listen up, everyone! One dip, that’s it! Got that? You’ll have plenty to gobble down later.”

Food? It looked at the bag in its claw, raised the empty sack, and stood on its hind limbs and jostled toward the front of the crowd.

“My, what wonderful costumes,” the adult said. “A pirate, a witch. Hey, you, Spiderman, One dip. One, understand! Put it back.” Her attention refocused on a female get. “And a princess, and ….” Her eyes widened. “And, a, uhh….”

The offspring quieted, turned around, their instantaneous shriek music to NeckBreaker’s ears. In a blur of limbs, they fled screeching down the block and disappeared from sight, their bags clutched against their costumes.

“Good gravy, kid. You scared the bejeeezus out of those other Halloweeners. Poor kids.” The human female called over her shoulder, “Hey, Harry. Harry! Forget the TV! You have GOT to get out here to see this.”

A voice called out complaining from the interior. “What? What, for god’s sake. Halloween’s your thing. I told you I wasn’t gonna answer….”

“Harry, will you just move your ass out here? You’ve got to see this kid’s costume. And bring my drink. Yours too. You’re gonna need it.”

NeckBreaker followed the ritual, held the bag up. Somewhat hesitant, the female stretched her arm toward its direction, the not-real pumpkin in her paw. It reached in, scooped a clawfull and dumped the objects in the bag.

The Harry male arrived.

“Look, we had a deal. You agreed….” He glanced at NeckBreaker. “You, uh, uh…Holy Shit!”

“What’d I tell you. Amazing, right? Kid, your mom or dad’s good, real good. They in Hollywood special effects or something? Right? Am I right?”

Uncertain of what they meant, NeckBreaker copied the young get head movement it observed earlier and nodded up and down.

“Don’t move, kid. Don’t move,” the Harry said. “I got to get my camera. Stay right there, don’t go away.”

A camera? The young goblin wavered on the edge of escaping. Curiosity trumped fear when the Harry reappeared in the doorway with an object clutched in its paws.

The female pushed the container of treats closer. “Here, take some more. Whatever you want. That costume of yours earns a double-dip.” She bared her fangs. NeckBreaker stepped back. “Hey kid, relax. Don’t be afraid, no one’s goin’ to hurt you. True, a little late to be alone outside. Your mom know?”

“Got it,” said Harry. “Move, move. Give me a clear shot. Okay kid, hold the bag up. More to the side, so I can fit the whole costume.” It followed the human’s directions. “Great. Ready? Say cheese. Cheese!”

To avoid provoking them, NeckBreaker struggled to pronounce “Cheese.” A flash of lightning. Blindness. Its howl shredded the air.

Both humans grimaced, eyes closed, paws over their ears.  When their eyes reopened, it stared at them from the highest branches of their front yard tree. They inspected the nearby bushes and peered around the corners of the house before abandoning their search.

NeckBreaker retrieved a rectangle from the bag of the things called treats. Mouth wide open, it plopped in the treat and chewed. A gag reflex almost tumbled it out of the tree. Spitting bits of paper and foil, it spied bright lights in the distance across the rooftops, toward the center of town.

A human gathering place? The school?

~~

Clara spotted Ettie talking with a boy.

Looks like a freshman!

She ploughed across the wooden courts crowded with dancers beneath tentacles of black and orange crepe paper. Kanye West’s “Runaway” blared, echoing across the gym.

Above them, a raised basketball backstop folded toward the ceiling. She reached Ettie, tapped her shoulder.

“Hello! Where were you? I’ve been waiting forever, you know. We gotta go.”

Ettie turned, held her wristwatch up.

“Excusez-moi, ma petite amie. Le temps?”

“Oh, right, hide behind the Haitian stuff.”

“Haitian ‘stuff’ is called Creole. But French, this time. French, not Creole. And five minutes is not forever!” She smiled at the boy. “I’ve gotta go now. Really nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll see each other in the cafeteria tomorrow?”

“Sure. Okay, in the cafeteria tomorrow. Great, I’ll look for you.”

“Bye, bye. We’re goin’ now,” Clara said and dragged her friend away.

Ettie grimaced, saying, “You’re a pain. He was cute. Sweet, too.”

“Uh, huh, and he’s a freshman! We have older, more mature men waiting at Jeremy’s.”

“Ha! You’re funny.”

In the parking lot, Ettie glanced left and right. “Where are they? Your parents. Aren’t your parents driving us? You said….”

“Changed. Two juniors with licenses. And here they come. Look.”

“Clara! If my mother…I mean, I don’t know. Really….”

~~

Concealed among evergreen bushes, NeckBreaker spied the gathering place, a too bright place, from a park across the street. Such a large number of humans, so many of their metal movers. Humans came and went, mostly the almost-adults, some fully grown adults.

A school?

Muffled sounds rumbled through the walls of the structure. Ears cupped forward, it strained to distinguish any human words. It concentrated on the humans on the sidewalk outside the structure.

Almost nothing makes sense.

The Ettie’s voice! It spotted her and the worm pale one, dressed for the human ritual. A metal mover stopped before them. Two almost-adult males emerged to gather the females into the mover. The Ettie hesitated. NeckBreaker tensed.

A confrontation?

No bloodshed erupted. The females entered the mover and it exited the field of stilled-movers, turned onto the street. It drove past the park where the goblin hid. The scent trail of the mover, a unique odor, not in the least tasty, would be easy to track. It followed, arriving at the humans’ destination shortly after their mover arrived. Stilled-movers lined the block on either side of the street.

Was this the place the Ettie had called “Jeremy’s party” before my procreator caught me?  

A rhythmic boom, the squeals of females, the bellows of males revealed the movers’ enclave at mid-block. Glowing figures and creatures, all plastic tilted at different angles across the front yard. NeckBreaker pressed backward against the side of a house, and peered around the corner.

The passengers had exited the stopped mover. The Ettie was climbing the short flight of steps to the house of noises.

Threatening figures, bare legged, their mouths smeared with blood, regrouped in the street after the metal mover departed. Torn and ragged material draped red-stained torsos. NeckBreaker first assumed the object they kicked back and forth among them in the street was a head. Glare-lights attached to the house better revealed the object to be an orange and black spinning globe, a thing they called a ball.

Keeping close to whatever protective cover existed, NeckBreaker advanced toward the noise and chaos, toward the Ettie, until any cover disappeared. The bag had worked well with the male and female adults. It slipped from the shadows, bag upraised, and crossed the lawn.

A voice shouted, “heads up!” The ball shot straight toward NeckBreaker. It kicked at the threat. Talons pierced the leathery hide; air hissed, rushed out the slashes. The ball deflated, clinging to the micro-barbs along the edges of its talons.

An almost-adult ran up.

“Oh, man,” he exclaimed. “Whoa, little dude! That’s one awesome costume.” The human stared at the deflated ball, more a rumpled pancake. “And that’s sure done for. Good thing it was a raggedy-ass practice ball. Went with our costumes.” He indicated the words across his chest. “Team Zombie!”

Team Zombie? Awesome costume?

NeckBreaker crouched, poised either for flight or fight, but kept the shield, the bag raised.

The rest of Team Zombie advanced, their dull fangs exposed like the adults, not a display of hostility. They scrutinized NeckBreaker, who turned to follow whenever one of the four zombies attempted to step behind it.

“Is there a zipper or something?”

“No, stupid,” said another zombie. “It’s makeup. Heavy duty, prosthetic stuff, too. Like I saw on a special effects documentary. Takes hours to put on. More, even. Right, little dude?” NeckBreaker nodded. The zombie smirked. “See, man. Told ya. Pros. Wow, man. Very cool.”

“Jeremy’s gotta see this,” the third zombie said. “Hey, little dude, wanna come inside? Lotsa good stuff to munch on, way better than the junk most people hand out at Holloween. Pretty girls, too. I’m Brad. What’s your name?” He pointed to the zombie on his right. “This here is Tom. Those two are Stevie, ‘The Basher,’ on account he can kick a ball a zillion miles an hour. And Roll-E, nobody can stop ‘im when he’s rollin’ down the field.”

It strove to answer in as human a voice as possible, the trill of the bifurcated tongue impossible to subdue completely. “NeckBreaker.”

“Huh?” said the Brad. “Man, that costume makes you sound real weird. Great Halloween effect. Nick Breaker, you said, huh? Put it there, Nick.” he stretched his paw out for a low-five.

It hesitated, reached slowly toward the soft flesh, so pale and vulnerable, the talons useless for defense. Or killing.

“Whoa, whoa,” said the Brad. “Hold up, a sec. Those claws look real scary. You know, like they could do some real damage. Like the ball. I’ll settle for air.”

~~

A she-goblin, mind-veiled on a hunt, a mind-veiled, stared from across the street at the place of human activity. Most humans remained out-of-season nowadays, unless for harvesting or immediate defense or protection against discovery. She broke covenant by hunting for non-human game in territory prominently marked by other goblins, a partnered couple; a dangerous gambit for a lone hunter if they discovered her lack of discretion.

Transgressors were fair game.

What she realized as she scented the air and surveilled the scene shocked her. A goblin get, unsexed, on its hind limbs, standing in the open among humans.

And not mind-veiled by any adult!

Its procreators were fools. They endangered the race, locally at the least. Worse, the world, if the humans streamed cell phone videos on YouTube. She plotted her killing strategy; her talons extended, retracted, extended, as she salivated in anticipation of her next meal–the goblin get.

~~

The zombies encouraged and guided NeckBreaker up the steps of the porch. They passed teens with glow twigs in their paws, smoke blowing from their mouths, a dangerous ritual.

Easier to track them.

Red and orange lit the interior. Boxes blared human wails at painful volumes; it winced. Internal membranes expanded in its ears to prevent damage.

Death wails?

The humans quivered, jumped and twisted in apparent pain. None of the almost-adults closest to the earsplitting boxes tumbled to the floor. Their shouts reverberated throughout the house and mingled with the strangest of all human sounds, laughter.

Unable to locate the Ettie visually, it sniffed and tasted the air with its tongue. Nothing of interest, excluding unfamiliar odors, most far from enticing.

The majority of the teens took little notice of it and Team Zombie parading through the darkened interior. The stares of a few, those closest, did fix onto the group and track them. Wary, NeckBreaker kept its chest and side toward the trackers as it followed the escort. They passed a staircase to the second story; it rushed to the stairwell and sniffed. Two fresh odors, adults, an unknown male and female.

It and Team Zombie squirmed their way through the crowded kitchen, the layout familiar, like the one in the enclave: wall and floor-storage keepers, a cold-keeper, the water-giver and flamer the humans called sink and stove.

“Hey, Jeremy,” the Brad called. “Get a load of this costume. Nick meet Jeremy.”

The group by one of the floor-storage keepers parted. NeckBreaker tensed, rocked back and forth on its hind limbs. It spotted a familiar human.

The worm pale one!

She clutched an almost-adult male’s arm and frowned. The Jeremy, sunken-eyed, paler than the worm pale one, broke away from her, and approached. NeckBreaker drew back. The worm pale female stared at them.

Hunter’s fangs. Some humans bore real fangs!

“Hi, there, Nick. Hey, hey, whoa! Relax, little guy. I don’t bite. Really. Don’t let my vampire bit scare you. Wow, that’s got to be the best Halloween costume ever. Way cool, way cool. Where’d you get the outfit? Really great makeup. Man, my parents have got to see this.”

It circled away at the mention of human procreators, their lightning-blinders, and rushed over to the worm pale one.

So close to its goal, NeckBreaker risked speech. “Essttie.”

“What?” she said. “Ettie? You said ‘Ettie,’ right? You know her?”

It stared in reply.

“Huh, can’t you talk? Nick?” She glanced at Jeremy and Team Zombie. “Maybe, he’s kinda slow. You know, takes the really short bus to school.”

The males displayed their fangs, growled the laughter sound.

The Roll-E said, “Watch out, Clara. Don’t get him pissed off. You should’ve seen what his feet did to the soccer ball.”

She bent over, her paws clutching her forelimbs. “You want to see Ettie?”

It nodded.

“Okay, let’s go. She’s on the patio. Follow me.”

NeckBreaker stared in the direction she indicated.

“Come on, nobody’s gonna eat you. Come on.” She reached out, stopped. “Yow, your costume means business. Don’t worry, I won’t touch. Kinda dangerous for a kid, no? Your parents kinda…forget it. Anyway, let’s go.”

Outside, the human crowd thinned.

NeckBreaker’s ears cupped and twisted independently of each other. A familiar voice stood out, the Ettie. Though the patio lights barely lit the three teens, NeckBreaker easily distinguished her. She spoke with two males, who shared a glow twig at the edge of the backyard, well beyond the flagstone patio.

It disappeared from the patio to confront its human male competitors.

~~

Clara glanced around the yard and spotted Ettie, or rather the dim, reflected glow of her white dress, ghostlike against the darkness at the bottom of the descending property’s shallow hill. Her friend claimed the gorgeous costume she wore was for a Mambo, a Haitian priestess in the Voodoo religion. Just past Ettie, a deep evergreen woods bordered the hill’s base, the trees a remnant of an old growth forest before the days of suburban hyper-development.

Clara turned to speak with NeckBreaker.

“Ettie’s down…uh, what the? Nick?” Looking around the property she called out, “Hey, Nick. Hey, where’d you go? Nick?”

Screams and yells erupted at edge of the forest. Worse followed; near deafening shrieks, backed by high-pitched hisses. Deeper howls tore like talons through the cold air, each outburst more ear-piercing, more hair-raising than the previous, the timber of the sounds a cross between a tiger and a jackal, giant, ferocious ones, slaughtering one another.

Ettie charged up the slope, her dress raised thigh high, her high heels abandoned behind her. She trailed behind her non-chivalrous male companions. The teens on the patio stopped their partying, eyes fixed on the shadows at the edge of the property. Some of the students grinned as if in-the-know., enjoying a Halloween prank.

From the unseen commotion in the dark forest, tree branches swayed. A rustle in the lower branches stirred and rippled its way to the tops of the tallest trees. Tearing, snapping sounds, smaller limbs and twigs of shredded evergreens bent and broken, crashed to the ground. Debris, dirt and dead leaves erupted, seemingly from every direction just before something much heavier landed with a thud, final and unforgiving. Silence enveloped the woods, no sound of insects, the rustle of small animals, bird calls; no breeze disturbed the utter quiet.

The high schoolers unconsciously huddled closer on the patio, scoffers included. Standing absolutely still, Clara and the other party goers stared from the patio into the darkness of the forest. None spoke a word until muffled music and conversation from the house tumbled back into Clara’s and the others’ awareness.

From the branch strewn forest floor, a soft, unexpected stirring broke the stillness, as if something dragged a burden deeper into the darkness. Neither Clara nor any of her companions dared to venture into the nocturnal woods, not until the day brightened the shadows to lessen the dread from their memory.

~~

In the main hall of their enclave, NeckBreaker’s male procreator, TalonSlash-breaker, conferred with his partner. A single light, a reading lamp on a table, glowed weakly in the extensive gloom; to his goblin eyes, light flooded every nook and cranny.

“Where did you find it?” he asked. “Are we safe, still undiscovered? Did you need to cull?” Both goblins had tracked after NeckBreaker once they realized it escaped again. They split up to double the search area. TalonSlash was not surprised his breeding partner found their get first.

“He,” she said.

“What?”

“NeckBreaker is male.”

“A he? A…a male? How–?”

She was close to as amused as a goblin ever managed.

“NeckBreaker has sexed. He escaped to seek a human female partner to initiate his reproductive cycle.”

“What? I harvested at six. Considered early but…but I was still knowledgeable enough to gather the human eggs without damaging them. We must have ‘The Talk’ with NeckBreaker. Does he understand a goblin breeding partner is necessary to implant the eggs, to absorb them and trigger her fertility? Perhaps, it’s best if you …?”

“Quiet. More amazing still.”

“What else could–?”

“He moves at will from place to place.”

“We all move–”

 ShankBreaker glared at her breeding partner and said, “Instantaneously? First here, next there. No visible motion in between! He appeared at the edge of the property. The transgressor who stalked him. She should have slaughtered him in the forest before I could intervene in time. He vanished and reappeared behind her. Then in the trees. One branch, then the next. No wonder we could not confine him!” She growled in a goblin version of amusement. “He thought every goblin moved in such a manner.”

“His early maturity is problematical but this last revelation, it’s…it’s incomprehensible.” TalonSlash’s more pragmatic nature reasserted itself. “And the transgressor? Her body?”

“In the largest cold-keeper, the subterranean level. She was well beyond breeding age but will not go to waste.”

“Hmmm…an older one, near tasteless. Even Chicken McNuggets would be more preferable.”

“Forget your appetite. Open your mind! NeckBreaker’s future get will keep the humans in check. Turn the tide, save our race. Perhaps, the entire world from them.”

“Great expectations.”

“Yes, great enough for the World Goblin Council’s consideration. Our son has the rights of the gendered, now. We must ready him for an eventual council meeting. Ready him for his destiny.”

~~

Upstairs in his false-death room, the newly gendered goblin, his mind-veiling skills nearly emerged entirely, examined his reflection in a full-length mirror. Pinching a twig in one claw, the talons partially retracted. NeckBreaker bared his fangs.

If the Ettie were present, the image of the high-school junior who attracted her would be smiling, a cigarette held between his fingers.

The End for Now