Something sharp prods into my unhurt right wing.
The bones of my left wing throbs in pain.
Wait.
The goblin!
As an extension of my will to escape, my wings try to flap again, which makes me release a throaty “SQWAAAUK” like a chicken.
I can’t move anymore, my strength exhausted from the long fall, and the movement from before. The only thing that can move is my eyes, looking at a long stick that scrapes across the ground towards me. It wasn’t the spear that the goblin held before when I first fainted, but a long broken branch tied onto that spear, while the bush that was at least 3m away from me, constantly shivering like a car engine, leaves rustling and falling to the ground.
The green of the goblin would be hard to notice for my human eyes, but with my crow's eyes I can clearly see the form of the creature shaking in fear as it pushed the stick across the ground to poke at me.
Why was he shaking?
I should be the one shaking in fear. He probably ate crows for lunch!
There was that country in my previous life that liked to cook pigeons whole. Pigeon, crow, there was no difference. He should be salivating at the thought of turning me into a rotisserie baby crow.
“He-y you!”
I say. Or I tried to say, but all I could let out was a low “kraawk”
It knows that I’m injured. Slowly, the goblin crawls out from the bush, towards me.
My neck won’t stop jerking around as I stare at the stick that taps at my small chest, on the white of my necklace of ruffles.
With my right wing lying limp, dragging on the ground, I try to hop away. Failing to notice the long-fingered inhuman green hands that reach down from above. Deftly, the goblin’s grabbed my claws, and I squat and croak in anger.
Each time, the goblin flinches in fear, even as it holds me captive.
What the heck.
Taking a vine hanging off his loincloth, he ties my claws onto his pseudo-spear.
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I was extremely offended, voicing my protest with a series of squawks and croaks.
Take that!
My super-annoying noise attack that I’ve learned from my siblings!
To think I would die at the hands of a goblin, held in place by a vine that came from his loincloth.
Super nasty.
Peh!
At least I won’t go down without a fight. So long, New World~.
Looking around in fear, the goblin moves to remove its loincloth.
Immediately, I grew quiet.
Flashes of the goblin putting that dirty cloth, stained with dark colors from things I cared not to name, over my head, made me shiver in fear. Somehow, though it had decidedly non-human-like features, with its heavy forehead and small eyes, I can tell it was relieved when I stopped protesting and stayed quiet.
Yes, I was cooperating with my soon-to-be murderer.
There was no helping it.
If I was a human, I would’ve bit my tongue and committed suicide before the goblin could do what I thought he wanted to do.
While the goblin creeps through the underbrush, I stay quiet as a mouse, letting out not even a peep. It was hard, every time his stick, (with me attached), bumped into an overhanging branch.
Its small eyes constantly glance back at me, checking if I’m still there, all the way back to his cave, which smells so bad it makes my eyes water.
Traces of a small fire and bones, pieces of broken armor, farming equipment, and small, broken jars litter the goblin’s home. Looks like he was a hoarder.
Setting the spear down, my body lying on the cold stone ground, the goblin crouches and tilts its head at me.
“Kreikii?”
From what I’ve observed so far, it seems to have as much intelligence as a 3-5 year old, wearing clothes and a sort of weapon.
I don’t feel like moving anymore. I wish he would kill me and be done with it.
So I show no resistance when his long, spindly green fingers reach out and tap me on the head. It even comforted me a little, reminding me of Mother, and how she used to try and calm me.
Then he unfolds both my wings, and seeing how the left wing doesn’t splay out properly, sets them back down again.
“Ki! Kiii!”
Crawling on all fours to the back of the cave, he starts digging for something. Unfortunately, I don’t bother to look, to prevent my eyes from feeling like they needed a deep cleanse from the view of his naked behind.
“Ki! Ki! Ki!”
He repeats, over and over, bringing what he’d dug up to where I was.
Excitedly, he holds up something shiny.
Ooooooh!
I like shiny things!!! Craning my neck to see what it was, in his hand was an empty glass vial. Focusing one beady eye on the vial, inside it is a teeny-tiny droplet, colored a hint of red.
Bringing his monstrous face right up to my small body, a waft of foul smelling air, which was his breath overwhelms me. He had his mouth open in concentration, green face contorted, trying to drop that small drop onto my broken wing.
Maybe it was some sort of magical goblin-approved BBQ rub to make me taste better.
The moment the glittering red drop touches me, a feminine, mechanical voice echoes out in my head.
[You have been healed]
At the same time the voice speaks, the pain fades away, and my wing makes a cracking sound as flesh and bone kneads itself back together.
What the heck.
There was a lady in my head, and this goblin had just magically cured my wing.
---Status---
Name:
Raven (Injured) (Healed!)
Race:
Common Black Raven
Title:
???
Magic:
N/A
Abilities:
Skill [Raven Call]
Skill [Peripheral Vision]
Skill [Flight]
Resistances: N/A
------