REDCAPS

#ssc46

(Key: Bold asterisks are for time skips from present, to past, and back to present. The normal ones skip scenes.)

Word Count: 5317. I was given permission to use the typical length (which is 5k) for a short story to express myself. I tried to cut down the words as much as I could. It used to be close to 6k before I edited. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please read the warning and don't take it lightly. It means business.

The forest was damp and misty after an evening shower; petrichor wafted up from the soaked soil. It covered the scent of the elven soldiers who silently crept through the bushes. The soggy mud muffled every broken twig under their boots, and the overhead drizzle from the trees that sponged up the rain drowned out the ruffles of their rifles and broad shoulders made in the leaves. Their dark blue uniforms meshed well with the night. The light-bending mist carried the soft lunar rays and bathed the forest in a pale, ambient glow. As the elves trekked warily, their formation was not like a tribe on the hunt but a battalion disciplined to search and destroy to execute the mission.

Faelyn Yestris led the entire force from the front as she held her mosin nagant and kept her posture low, and her comrades followed closely behind, but several other groups dotted the forest as they swept through the foliage like a shadow flood. Back in the civil world, she was known as the princess, but on the battlefield, they called her General Yestris. She abruptly stopped walking and whispered, “Halt,” and the rest of her squadron heard it and ceased, despite the natural sound dampening that surrounded them. Elven ears were superior to other races. Their sharpened focus heightened their senses to a supernatural level.

Faelyn found the nearest tree to use as cover, and the rest of the squadron followed suit. Her ears caught sounds that didn’t mesh with nature, then she heard a voice brush her ears, much closer than the others. Feminine and familiar. Another woman took cover behind the same tree as General Faelyn, her second in command on the field, and her first sibling back at home.

“Why are we stopping?” Said Lieutenant Obsidia.

“Can’t you hear them?” Faelyn asked. “ We’re close to their camp.”

“Your hearing is much sharper than mine, so than everyone else.”

Faelyn’s gaze looked toward where she heard suspicious noises. A hodgepodge of sounds that caused a ruckus in the calm forest. She focused on it and memorized its position.

Faelyn pointed northeast in front at a twisted trunk. “Just beyond that crooked tree. I hear one snarling. It could be two.”

“Redcap goblins.” Obsidia said.

Faelyn nodded. “I hear others, several of them, but their speech is slurred. They must be drunk.”

“We can surround them.” Obsidia suggested.

Faelyn hummed as she concurred but had more to say. “I don’t want a single one to escape and warn their horde. Don’t underestimate them.”

***

“Roho!” One goblin shouted as he held up a metal mug.

“Roho!” Most of the others declared.

Then, the last one chimed in. “Roho...” The quiet goblin said in a somber tone as he wearily raised his mug.

They clanked their mugs together, and the frothy alcohol splashed out. They downed their drinks in long deep gulps and sighed in blessed relief when their lips finally parted ways from the rims of the cup. The campfire sat in the middle of their camp, and their tents more outward to the bushes. Wooden sticks with metal nozzles poked out from the leaves. The rustling didn’t alert the goblin. After all, he’s heard creatures ing by all night. He saw that stick but thought it was a branch just waving hello, or pointing at him shamefully for pissing in it not too long ago.

Then, he saw several more sticks protrude from the brushes. All uniformly pointing at him and his friend in front of him. He blinked his eyes, and then they widened. “Bala!” He said.

The drunken goblin who noticed the sticks first shouted and whipped out his Luger pistol and fired a couple of shots. It seemed someone in the bushes grunted, and a thud followed, but then all hell broke loose.

The elves retaliated all at once, faster than the rest of the goblins could grab their weapons and fire back. The silent goblin fell to the ground at the first pop of enemy gunfire, narrowly escaping the enemy’s counterattack, and covered his head with his hands.

Fiery light trailed the bullets as they flew through the night on all sides and peppered the goblins full of holes. Their tiny limbs popped off without resistance like fragile toys. Crimson blood painted each other as their bodies shook and flailed uncontrollably in the spray of bullets. Even their heads popped into red and grey pus before what was left of their bodies finally hit the ground, one thud after another.

“Cease fire!” Faelyn shouted.

The elven soldiers emerged from the bushes and surrounded the area. Genera Faelyn stomped toward the campfire and saw the shivering goblin, unharmed. A missed target, but she needed one alive anyway. The goblin uncovered his head and looked up at Faelyn, his eyes drenched in tears.

“Hold this one down.” Faelyn ordered.

One soldier came from behind and jabbed his foot into the goblin’s neck, and drove him into the dirt. He didn’t choke him with his boot, but the goblin struggled to move under the elven man’s weight. The soldier had his rifle pointed at the goblin’s head.

Obsidia and another man dressed more highly than the other units stepped out of the wilderness. His uniform showed his lieutenant ranking just like Obsidia’s. And wherever he walked, grass grew from the mud.

“Lieutenant Kaiya, translate, please.” Faelyn said, and he nodded. “Ask him what they were doing here.”

The stoic elf spoke clearly in the goblin’s native tongue and asked him that question. However, to no response. Then, they all heard snarling from one of the tents and the rattling of metal shackles. Beastly sounds twisted like an illusionary nightmare. Faelyn merely looked at a couple of soldiers at her side and nodded her head toward the tent. They walked over there, and soon enough, several gunshots went off. The flashes of light from the guns revealed the shadows of the men and the redcaps inside the tent behind a cage. One shot after another showed one less being behind the curtain standing. The pinned-down goblin shuddered. Heavy thuds followed, and the growling and rattling chains stopped.

Faelyn looked back down on the helpless goblin and ordered her translator to ask again. Kaiya did so, and this time the goblin spoke. However, his tone didn’t sound cooperative either. “Bala shakka.” He said and even mustered to conjure up a spit and launched it on Faelyn’s shoe. She looked unfazed.

“What did he say?” Faelyn asked.

“He said, and I quote, ‘Go fuck yourself.’” Kaiya said with a straight face.

A brief silence slithered through their presence between all of them. The goblin then started growling, and his veins glowed ember-like. She huffed and sighed.

“Shoot him.” She ordered.

For some reason, the soldier closest to the goblin hesitated. Despite how he treated the goblin, execution in this condition didn’t cross his mind. “But ma’am,” He said.

Faelyn looked the insubordinate soldier dead in his eyes. Then she yanked out her revolver pistol, pulled back the hammer with her thumb, and aimed at the goblin’s head. She squeezed the trigger and popped a cap right into his skull. His head’s shattered shell and messed up insides splattered on the soldier’s shoe. The soldier almost threw up after being touched by so much gore.

Faelyn spoke up. “If you paid attention, you would’ve seen he was about to turn right beneath your feet. What would’ve happened if he bit your ankle? I would’ve shot you too without a second thought.”

Obsidia’s face frowned but didn’t step in. She had no arguments against that, but still. The soldier stood there in shock but stepped back from the bloody mess and glanced at the ground. “Yes, ma’am.”

Faelyn spun toward the rest of the tents and her squadron. “Search the camp for clues. We must find the goblin’s base and contain this sickness.”

REDCAPS

***

A flock of carriages drove merrily down a stretched-out dirt road. Their colors reflected the evergreen trees that lined their path, and intricate carvings shined with a golden hue in the sun’s presence. Faelyn looked through the window of her carriage and ired the nature of her kingdom. The reddened sun hung low on the horizon, and its last rays of the day kissed the countryside of Oaksey good evening, and soon the night would be upon the elven people. The light shone nicely on Faelyn’s blonde hair and made her caramel skin glow heavenly. Faelyn’s wife sat beside her, pale but had long dark hair. She was skinnier than Faelyn’s more developed figure. They both wore white dresses, and they held hands the entire ride.

The black-haired woman shook in place. “Oh goodness!”

Concern wrote itself on Faelyn’s face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

The woman took Faelyn’s hand and placed it on her stomach. She made her hand rub it there. “Can you feel it? She’s growing already, the little girl we prayed for…”

Another bump did happen, strange as it was because her stomach was still relatively small. Faelyn smiled and pressed her face against her wife’s. “That’s wonderful.”

Then the carriage abruptly stopped, which held up the rest behind them. Their coachman yelled in annoyance, “Get out the way! You’re holding up the new Queens of Oaksey.” Faelyn’s curiosity shook her nerves. She opened the carriage door and held her dress in one hand as she put her feet on the steps.

“Fae?” Her wife called.

“Don’t worry, Astra. I’ll be back.” Said Faelyn.

The Queen walked to the front of the carriage to see what caused the fuss. All she saw was an elderly goblin struggling even to carry his bags, and he looked like a little green raisin. His white beard was so long he could trip on it, and his clothes looked worn to hell.

“What’s going on?” Asked Faelyn.

“Apologies, my lady, but this old fool is blocking the road.” Said the coachman.

The old goblin moved like a morning clock ticking to midnight. His bags almost tipped him over like the rising end to a double-paned scale. “Sorry for the trouble.” the goblin said, his voice sounded like it was squeezed out of him.

Faelyn crossed her arms and looked down on him. “Mr, where are you going with all those bags that’ll sink you into the dirt?”

The old goblin wheezed before he spoke some more. “These are my tools, I’m a doctor, and I’m on my way to see my son in Vandala. Unfortunately, he’s quite ill.”

Faelyn’s face softened. She tilted her head as she asked, “I’m sorry to hear, but when do you need to see him by? Vandala is quite the journey away, even if you take this route.”

“By tomorrow.” The old goblin replied.

The Queen tilted her head downward, closed her eyes, and rubbed her chin.  She hummed behind her shut lips but soon spoke up again. “It’s decided, we’ll give you a ride to the Yestris mansion.”

Both the old goblin and the coachman uttered “What?” simultaneously.

“You will rest there, and I’ll give you a manned carriage to see that you get to your son in time.” The Queen finished.

The old goblin cackled, although he seemed wary to accept her gift. This sort of treatment from an elf or of the Queen no less shook him to his bones. His gratefulness struggled to lift his wrinkled face. “You’re too kind, but I wouldn’t dare bother you with my troubles. And surely you’ve heard of the sickness among goblins, haven’t ya? Turning the lot of us into redcaps through a bite.”

Faelyn didn’t flinch at the warning, albeit it seemed more like a way to ease taking such a grand offer from the Queen of elves. Instead, she smirked and brushed the mentions of the redcap sickness under the rug. “No, I insist. This is of no trouble at all, and you don’t look sick to me. And besides, I feel like being a saint this evening, for I was blessed with the best day of my life. The elven scholars weaved life and bestowed me a daughter.” Faelyn glanced back at the carriage and saw her wife peeking out the window. They both grinned at each other. However, a few carriages down, another individual looked at the exchange. They had the same looks as Faelyn, except they were male and wore a vulgar mug on their face.

The old goblin bowed his head “Th...thank you.”

Then Faelyn order the coachman to take the old goblin’s bags and sit them beside him and helped guide the green geezer onto the box seat where’d he sit for the rest of the way to the Yestris’ royal estate.

***

As soon as Faelyn, Astra, and the goblin walked in through the gilded doors, rows upon rows of maids and butlers lined up a runway from the entrance to the main staircase. They bowed and greeted the two queens back from the crowning ceremony and their wedding. However, some eyes strayed to the odd green raisin creature. What was a goblin doing in the royal house of elves? Queen Faelyn spoke loudly and gripped the attention of the legion of cleaners and cooks in a firm grasp.

“This goblin,” She said but paused and leaned her head down to the old goblin. “I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

“It’s Gook.” He uttered.

Faelyn raised back up. “Sir Gook,” She continued, “is to be treated as our esteemed guest, and he’ll have a carriage to escort him wherever he needs to go in the morning.”

These were the words of the queen herself, and although most-followed without question, a few strained eyes laid their glare on the little goblin. They dared not speak up here in front of their majesty. Sir Gook bowed for Queen Faelyn and to the staff of the mansion.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

Butlers soon came and unpacked the carriage outside and loaded them into the home. One leading steward took the liberty to show Gook which guest room he’d be staying in and guided the other men who carried Gook’s heavy things.

***

The leading steward approached the door first, opened it, and presented the small but humble abode with his arm stretched outward and slightly bowed posture. “Your room, Sir Gook.”

“Thank you.” He said.

The men politely sat down Gook’s things tables or the desk found in the room and proceeded to exit their guest’s temporary living space. Once Gook knew they were gone, he went to the desk and lit a lamp to see the platform before him. He reached into his smaller backpack he always had on his person and took out one vial of a transparent liquid tinged with a blue hue. The same spectrum the moon glow as its gentle rays peered through the curtains of the goblin’s room. He fished out another item from his bag, a syringe. Gook sat the needle down on the desk and carefully undid the stopper that sealed the vial. Then, a knock at the door almost made him spill the substance. By instinct Gook hid the vial behind his back.

Not even a second after the knock, someone opened and stomped through the doorway regardless of they heard an answer or not. An elven man dressed in a white suit walked in, with a green shirt and a golden tie. His hair and skin shared the same features as Faelyn.

“S-sir, you shouldn’t be here!” Gook uttered.

“No, you shouldn’t be here, and how dare you speak up at a prince?” The elf crossed his arms and released a dark sura that polluted the room.

“Her majesty was kind to me. What’s the meaning of this?” Gook said, his bones clattered like bridle stone that even the tension of the atmosphere could shatter.

“I have no unearthly idea why my idiotic older sister let the likes of you enter this sacred place, especially in such trying times. You’re like rats. You’ll be culled, no, exterminated sooner than later.”

His words, it struck the goblin, deep inside, and it pierced something, something meant to hold back poison. Gook felt the air leave his lungs, and suddenly his nerves went numb, but then his blood got hot. His veins tightened, and a red ember-like glow lit beneath his skin. “Don’t say such things….”

“Or what? Will you curse me with your blasphemous magic? The All-Mother would dilute the horrendous swearing you call ‘spells.’” The elf dared to inch closer and loomed over the goblin. A shadow crept under his face as he made a promise. “If I see you so much as touch one of our artifacts, I’ll have you executed for attempted theft. Perhaps I’ll finally be celebrated as King Osalain when I’m the new ruler of Oaksey in place of that incompetent harlot I dare call a sibling for letting a lowly goblin crawl its way into the royal halls.”

Osalain turned and walked toward the door. Gook’s heart kicked like a rabbit trying to escape from a wolf’s bite. His blood scalded his flesh. His breath shortened. With shaky arms and a will to ease this burning inside, he unveiled the vial and extracted the moon-blue substance with the syringe. Osalain heard the Gook’s sloppy movements that made a commotion behind him, so he turned around and saw Gook trying to apply the needle into his arm. “What on earth is that?”

In two long strides, Osalain was in front of Gook. He snatched the syringe from his feeble hands. Gook cried out in objection but received a shove to the chest, and it sent him flying into the desk. He collapsed to his face.

“What is this substance? Are you using drugs in the Yestris castle, you swamp spawn?”

Gook tried to get his bearings, one limb after the other. First hands, then he pressed his knees on the floor. “No, my medicine...”

“And what kind of medicine is it? What’s it for?”

“It’s… It’s an inhibitor for… for….”

Osalain frowned. “Pathetic.” His swift hand sent the syringe crashing into the wooden floor. The container shattered and splashed the moon-blue liquid.

“No!” Gook cried. He used every last thread of will left in his hollow bones and crawled to the damp spot on the wood. He lowered his head and extended his tongue to lick it up. His veins glowed red, and winced at the stinging heat that scorched his nerves.

“You maggot-sucking trash!” Osalain reeled his foot back and drove his hard leather shoe into Gook’s face. It cratered in his forehead and launched him into the desk again, but it tipped over from the impact, and Gook ended up on the other side.

“I’ll see to it that you’re thrown out immediately.” Osalain dug into the back of his throat and spat in Gook’s direction. He turned and prepared to exit the room once more. Instead, however, he heard something strange. Fleshy tearing, scratching, and crunching mixed with an eldritch distortion in the air, unlike anything that ever crossed Osalain’s ears. It sounded like a beast, but no possible beast. Its snarl likened to an emotionless, cold-blooded crocodile, yet with the angry growling of a hound, twisted with the agony of a feline’s disillusioned yowl, and somehow under layered with the booming power of a bear. Osalain slowly turned back to face where he left Gook. His face gripped with sick intrigue. What kind of suffering goblin made such a noise? Should he be amused or cautiously curious?

Osalain stepped toward the desk that masked where Gook’s body fell. As he approached, the pressure of the monstrous noises bared on his ears harder. He forcefully held back his flinches and stood his ground. “That’s enough out of you. Your groaning churns my stomach.”

A brief silence blanketed the room before a banshee-like screech tore through the air and stabbed Osalain’s ears. The warped sounds of a beastly roar so loud his soul heard it as his body reverberated on every nerve. He jumped back. Cold sweat gripped his face. A bloody hand that wore no skin but covered in hair rose above from behind the desk, slammed down on the wood, and clinched. Long, ragged, iron nails dig into the wood. The muscle and tendons on the figures alone looked swollen. Then a head crept up. Its head reassembled the goblin once known as Gook, but he looked unrecognizable. His scalp had deep gashes, and his hair was ripped out. His face looked like horrible cancer overtook him. Awful tumors necrotized his skin. His teeth, jagged and broken under the weight of his own jaw-grinding them into misshapen knives. Waterfalls of blood seeped through the cracks, and some gargled at the back of his throat. His eyes. His eyes burned as if hell shouted through and demanded the soul of whoever crossed the monster’s gaze. Osalain heard the call. The murderous call of a redcap.

***

“We’ve searched dozens of their camps throughout the past three days.” Said Lieutenant Kaiya, “What are we missing?”

Lieutenant Kaiya and Obsidia sat with General Faelyn and Sergeant Laiser on the logs the goblins once congregated near. The spot where Kaiya rested bloomed with green patches of moss. Their faces were written with frustration to locate this secret base of the goblins. Whether they find it or not could decide the course of the war.

“Surprisingly, they’re nowhere to be seen near the caves on the mountains or the marshes in the south.” Said Obsidia.

“Damn, rats got smart.” Laiser remarked and crossed his arms.

Obsidia frowned. “They’re not rats, and we’re doing this to save them from themselves.”

Laiser raised his voice. “Because they failed to contain their own sickness and ignorantly let it infect the other races. Our families and communities in their wake.”

Silence swept through them, and the strain of Faelyn’s strengthened when Laiser mentioned family. Obsidia saw her sister, and pity swelled in her eyes until she broke away from her and stared at the campfire in front of them.

“Rats.” Laiser finished.

“Enough,” Said Faelyn, fed up with their squealing, “Since they learned, what would be the best way to hide from elves?”

“And where could they still reasonably sustain their base with supplies and accessible routes to transport.” Kaiya added.

The fire kindled between them, and the ambiance of the forest whispered in the elves’ sensitive ears. Laiser’s ears twitched. The sound of rushing water nearby, the river that ran through the whole forest. “The river.” Laiser said.

Obsidia gasped and lifted her head. “Near the waterfall! To mask their sounds.”

Kaiya looked at Obsidia and then Faelyn. “Mm-hm, um, General?”

Faelyn nearly lost herself in thought as well, but she always had an ear in the conversation. “It would be clever of them.” She stood and looked in the direction of the river which flowed northwest. “Kaiya, can you use your earth guidance to make a raft?” She asked.

The wood-elf lieutenant stood as well. He raised his hand and commanded the trees behind him to lean in, and they loomed over his head and shoulders. Obsidia flinched but marveled at his mastery of nature.

“I’ll weave the finest rowboat, your majesty.” He said with a pleased smile.

A new plan came to fruition, and it was decided that Faelyn and Obsidia would accompany each other on the boat and ride the current downstream. Hopefully, or when they found something, they’d shoot a whistling bird arrow into the air. In the meantime, Laiser led the battalion on foot and checked alongside the river banks.

The journey down the river didn’t have bumpy rocks or twists and turns. It gradually took them down a calm stretch of water. Obsidia steered the boat. Faelyn leaned on the inner walls with her rifle resting with one arm, and in her hand, she played with a silver ring in her fingers. She still imagined when her wife’s hand was attached to this ring.

For one night, Faelyn knew what hell itself had to offer when she dies. On that night, hateful flames engulfed her home as if the souls the soil absorbed raised like combustible fumes. Lament did the lives trapped inside, and the roars of the redcaps converted from elves that hunted down the living through the halls and tore them nerve by nerve meticulously. Faelyn killed as many as she could. When you’ve killed that many creatures, any resemblance of their clinging personality in their distorted faces or warped cries start to cross each other and merge into one heaping ball of anguish. But one stood out to her. A tall, lanky redcap with long black hair ripped out its head, but some remained as the strands dangled from her bloody skull. It had no clothes still attached, strangely didn’t scream like the rest. But Faelyn saw the silver ring she gave her wife on that monster’s finger, and her stomach gaped open, an empty cavern, where a young enger's life used to lie…

“Faelyn! Faelyn!”

She shuddered out of her terrible trance. Her attention returned to the present. Faelyn turned and faced her sister. Obsidia pointed downstream as she tried to slow the boat with the paddle. A waterfall ended the stream, and it went down from their direction. Some huts and tents dotted the river banks. Dozens upon dozens of shelters and little green smudges walking about.

“Do you see that? Way down there?” Obsidia asked.

“Their base… we found it.” Said Faelyn. “Stop the boat.”

Obsidia guided the boat to softly crash into the riverbank, still far away from the goblin settlement. Faelyn stepped out first and then Obsidia. The general reached into the boat and dug into a bag which she took a bow and one arrow.

“I’m going to shoot the signal. Hopefully, the goblins don’t notice right away.” Faelyn said.

“Right.” Obsidia replied.

Obsidia looked closer at the arrow Faelyn grabbed. Its design didn’t resemble a bird like the ones they used for signals for the elven ears. Instead, this arrow looked red and orange like fire and had the design of a dragon.

“Faelyn… What’s that?”

She turned and faced Obsidia. She bore a grim look, not a proud smile. Nonetheless, she didn’t question her own actions and kept preparing the bow. “I’m calling a dragon strike.” She said. “This base should burn.”

Obsidia’s face lost warmth as a cold crept through her nerves. Her eyes strained to look at her sister. “What? No, no, that’s not what we’re here to do! We’re supposed to capture the base. Not slaughter them like lamb!”

“You saw that other goblin from last night. He came from this village. He almost turned instantly. They’re all infected. There’s no saving them. That settlement is a ticking time bomb.”

“You… you don’t know that! We can contain them. We can help save themsel-”

“No, we can’t.” Faelyn interjected. “They’ll die sooner or later. I’m looking out for the future of my kingdom. My country. What’s left of my family.”

The space between them rest with only the flow of the water to break the silence. Obsidia looked down and clenched her fists. Her eyes started to water. Faelyn breathed heavily through her nostrils. “Listen, this is for-”

“No,” Obsidia’s tone bummed harder than ever before around her sister. Her compliant nature washed away. She slung out her pistol and aimed at Faelyn. “Shut the hell up, don’t you dare say it! Nothing good will come from this… It won’t save this country or nation. And it won’t respect your wife and kid.”

A nerve snapped in Faelyn. Red veins shattered the white in her eyes. She whipped out her revolver and clicked the hammer before Obsidia even reacted. They both stared down at each other’s barrels.

“Faelyn… you can hear them, right? Even I can.. The mothers… the kids… They’re at that settlement. It’s full of refugees. Families.”

Bothered nerves wavered under Faelyn’s face as she struggled with something within. Her gaze narrowed on Obsidia.

“Please, we can’t do this…Imagine yourself as them… just for a moment.”

Faelyn’s grip tightened on her gun. “If I were them… I would’ve had the strength to do what needs to be done.”

A brief moment ed before Obsidia squeezed her trigger and shot her sister’s torso. Somewhere an elf could survive. Faelyn cried out and fell to one knee. Obsidia ran to grab the arrow from her. “Faelyn, I’m sorry-”

Faelyn slung her gun up and shot her sister several times in the chest. Her body jolted back for a moment before she fell to the ground—a puddle of blood leaked from under her. Faelyn stared. Her face wrinkled tightly, and she wept under her grunts through her teeth. She struggled to stand.

Faelyn put away her gun and prepared to shoot the dragon arrow. She placed it on the string, stretched it back, and aimed at the sky. She let go as it went upward and released a flare and smoke. Tainted with chemicals their trained dragons would pick up. The dragons smelled this signal from miles away, and from their mountainous lairs from the south, they took flight and soared to the target location. As Faelyn waited, she walked closer to the river. She slowly crouched and sat on the side of a rock facing the water and collapsed. She pressed her hand against her wound.

Soon, the dragons came in a flock that shadowed the forest in demonic shapes. Faelyn heard their fiery breath charging up, and she listened to the worried cries of the goblin people who saw them overhead. She didn’t look in their direction but just listened to the roaring flames and the crumbling of the incinerated shelter. The heat from their breath vaporized the water causing a mist to cover the area, but even that didn’t stop their flames. They burned the forest around the shelter as well to snuff out the runners. The destroyed buildings holding up the waters caused a wave that drowned the rest further downstream.

After minutes, the natural ambiance of the forest finally returned to her ears. Nothing but the flow of the water that raged more than before and the crackling of the burning ruins for hours. However, then she heard light footsteps on the gravely dirt on the side of the river walking towards her. Faelyn turned her head and saw a small green smudge, but as it got closer, it became more evident. It was a little goblin child. She bore some burns on her hands and legs and her brown dress covered in ash. The ignorant youngling walked up to Faelyn. She stared at Faelyn with a somber expression. Tears dripped from her eyes and stung her wounds. And the slightest spark of red could be seen under her scars.

Faelyn’s face softened and laid flat. A single tear ran down her face as she slowly held up her gun. The child didn’t try to run.

The End