We'd lost our snake, and now the cave was unlivable.

In my mental little black notebook, I add Kobold to the list of creatures to keep an eye out for/get revenge against someday. The fact that they'd taken our food put them right up there with the crows, rats, wolves and the goblins (excluding Greenie, of course).

Greenie came tromping into the cave carrying a new spear in one hand and the hoe in the other.

Master! I find food!

He'd stabbed 3 more rats on his spear like a terrifying fun-size shish kabob. Blood dripped off their mangled bodies, marks left by whatever had gotten to it before he did.

Judging from the holes bored in their bodies into the bite marks, Greenie must have found another Siphon Bush.

The new spear he made was near-identical to the old one that got destroyed in our fight with the rats, except my baby feathers that looked more worn out than before.

And the length of it..

Using the new finger-like extensions on the tip of my wings, I squint one bird eye and measure out the length of the spear with the length of Greenie's body.

The spear was too short.

With the added height from his evolution, the length that worked for Greenie before looked awkward on him now. It would barely work as a walking stick; looking at it proportion-wise it would be uncomfortable for Greenie to use.

We'll have to work on creating a new spear that evolved Greenie could use.

Master?

Greenie squats before me, setting the spear on his shoulder while slow droplets blood continue to drip on his back. He copies the same thumb and pointer finger measuring gesture that I was doing. And then looks down at where I'd been pointing. (I was pointing to his waist to measure how high the spear would go)

Looking down, he puts his hand down above his loincloth.

This was the only other thing that had survived the rats other than us. I wanted to call it Loincloth-san in recognition of a fellow comrade. Loincloth-san's sheer tenacity in staying on Greenie through a rat attack and then an evolution was amazing. And it provided an extremely important service: it protected my eyes from being forever scarred with goblin junk.

Loincloth-san was the real MVP here.

Greenie uses his thumb and pointer finger to put the gap between his fingers right atop his loincloth. Measuring out the length of his-

Ahem!

Brows falling in consternation, Greenie shakes his head.

Mine not small, Master.

I never said yours was small!!

Tsukkomi-ing back, I shake my head. What was it with Greenie and his worry about the size of his pen-pen…

Going back to the serious subject I'd wanted to ask Greenie.

Greenie. Was this hole here before?

No Master. Earth open. Rats come.

So the earthquake we felt must have opened the hole up. If another earthquake occurred soon, who knows whether this home of ours would cave in and become our graves.

And that hole-

Shivering, I hop a few more times further away from the hole and closer to the entrance of the cave. Greenie follows behind me. He snorts and roughly rubs his itching nose with his arm, both his hands empty. Since he'd carefully set the rat kebab on the cave ground where the snake had been, the circle of poop around it like the chalk outlines of a victim from a crime scene.

Greenie, I have some sad news for you.

We can't stay here anymore.

Not stay?

I shake my head. The sun was at its zenith in the sky above us. In the sunlight, the cave wasn't so bad. But at night, who knows what could come out of that freakish hole?

We don't know where that hole leads. It's not safe.

Problem was, there wasn't anywhere else for us to go.

Does Greenie know any caves?

The Ice Cavern was too cold to live in, and the only other inhabitable place I'd seen was the goblin tribe…

Scratch that. The Lament Willows' hollows seemed comfortable to live in, but there was a whole tribe of goblins that hated us living there.

We still had some time.

If it were just me, it would be a matter of finding a tall tree, but with Greenie… It wasn't like we could just build a house.

Should we live in the trees? Other than the emerald snake and the ape-creatures, there weren't any other obvious predators living in the trees.

Do you know any other caves, Greenie?

Greenie pauses, itching his butt with rough scratching noises as he thinks.

Greenie know place.

Great!!

Can you lead us there?

Shrugging his shoulders and with an apologetic sad look on his face, Greenie responds:

No.

Oh.

Right. This goblin had a terrible sense of direction.

Greenie sad master.

I knew from his downturned lips and the ghastly look on his face that he was feeling bad that he couldn't help. But even if he couldn't find it there was always a workaround.

It's ok. If you can describe it to me I can find it!

Greenie was quick to perk up when he hears that.

It green top and round!

Near water!

Hide place!

From what Greenie was telling me, I gather it was near the lake. Alright we'll have to go and scout the area out. Though it was a little too close to the goblin tribe for my comfort, it would have to do for tonight, since we couldn't stay here.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Perfect, Greenie!

I stop Greenie when he gets up as if to go, right away. How he was going to get there when he didn't know the way was a mystery. But his eagerness was cute, I'll give him that.

But we need to make some more weapons.

Those spice bombs worked like a charm on the rats. And I had a new weapon in mind for Greenie to use in addition to the spear.

Greenie, I need you to find rocks. Like this.

Flying outside the cave, I search through the churned up mud clumps and sod to find what I was looking for. Smooth, round, and somewhat heavy stones that would fit in the palm of Greenie's hand.

Found one! Near the base of the Flare Berry bush, the perfect rock just so happened to be waiting for me to find.

Can you find 20 of these, Greenie?

20?

Greenie looks utterly confused, again.

Yes, 20.

Greenie not know 20, Master.

I guess no one in the goblin tribe taught numbers.

My wings twitch as I ponder..How was I going to explain numbers to a goblin??

Taking a twig in my beak, since my wings didn't have the strength to grip it, I draw 10 circles in the mud outside our cave. The sunlight falling upon the mud made it dry in chunks that broke apart under my prodding.

Phew. Stretching my neck to either side a few times to loosen the tension, I tap on the circles like a teacher would her whiteboard.

Put a stone in each of these circles.

Taking the stone I'd given Greenie back, I drop it in the first circle. And then turn around to peer back at Greenie to see if he gets it.

Like this.

It was amusing to watch the expressions on the vicious-looking goblin's face go from confusion to understanding.

Dot. Dot. Dot. Ding!

Greenie can do!

And so one large, muscular goblin got down on his hands and knees and started sifting through the mud and grass for stones.

I fly back into the cave and drag out the heavy iron helmet from within by latching my claws onto the lip of it and pulling.

It was back to spice bomb making for me.

Dropping a few Flare Berries into the helmet, I begin creating the concoction.

Here we go!

A~One, and a~two!

Master!!

Master Look!

Look Master!

"Kieek! Ki! Ki! Ki!"

Greenie breaks my concentration with his repeated calls.

What, Greenie? Pushing down the slight irritation from his nagging, I swivel my neck to see him-

pointing proudly at the new stone sitting in it's own circle next to the one I'd put down.

Staring at me with an expectant look in his beady eyes, Greenie waits. I cock my head. What was he waiting for?

Greenie ok?

Oh!

Yes Greenie! That's amazing! Keep it up!

Clapping my wings together, I send waves of support and happiness to Greenie, which makes him puff his chest out in pride.

Greenie find more!

Dropping back down on all fours again, he begins to search for the next stone. And I return to my own job. I can't lose to Greenie!

Peck!

"Arsjhgk!!!!"

My throat releases a gurgling growling noise as I control the urge to swear. I'd forgotten that Peck had leveled up. As a result, my Peck just now had punctured the bottom of the helmet. Again. A larger hole than before.

Peck!

This time, I control my strength, and continue crushing the Flare Berries until they turn into their usual yellow goo. Grabbing some left over {Torn Burlap Cloth} and {Woolen Cloak Fragments} I call over Greenie to help me tie them up into neat little packages.

Ya thought!

Nope! I did it all by myself. I was a Nachtkrapp Raven now, with fingers! And it felt so good to accomplish all on my own.

After an hour or so of hard work, I step back and look with pride at the small packages in front of me. The knots weren't as neat or as tight as Greenie's, but they worked. Using up the remaining cloth gave me 7 more spice bombs. A lucky number for a well-done accomplishment! Woohoo!

I don't let myself bask in the feeling of accomplishment. Greenie was still continuing his search for the perfect stones.

While he looked for the stones, I needed to go find a nice Y-shaped stick. The elastic rat tendons Greenie had been chewing on gave me the idea.

I'll be right back, Greenie! Call for me if anything happens ok?

Ok!

Greenie looks up once, grimaces his teeth at me in a grin, and then goes back to digging through the dirt, his body becoming covered in mud.

I'd seen a few Y-shaped sticks lying around when Scarface had carried me to the goblin village, but I couldn't find any here.

Perhaps a little further then. Hopping up and using the momentum to take flight, I use my amazing 300 degree vision to scan for the perfect stick.

If I was a human this would have gone a lot slower.

Y-shape~ Y-shape~ Where are you~

There were L-shaped twigs and I-shapes. But no Y.

I fly in the opposite direction of the lake, towards the Ironwood grove where Greenie and I had seen the bears.

A strong Y-shaped Ironwood stick, would be the jackpot. A Y-shaped non-Ironwood stick worked too, but I wanted Ironwood if possible.

I test the connection between Greenie and I as I fly further and further out.

Greenie?

No response.

I'd been transmitting my thoughts every once in a while as I flew further and further away from our cave. I'd heard Greenie's responses, but not here, in the Ironwood grove.

So there was a distance limit on our Thought Transmission. But our master-pet bond was still good. Greenie tugs back when I give a small tug.

Y-shaped stick!

Found it!

Please be Ironwood. Please be Ironwood. Please be Ironwood.

Appraisal!

{Ironwood Stick}

Bingo!

With talons outstretched before me, I swoop in to grab the Ironwood stick in the overgrown grove. But then I think again and land to test the hardness. Sometimes these sticks would rot in dark places without sunlight. I would need to test it-

A dark shape above me makes the sunlight blink like a lamp turned on and off.

What is it?!

The sound of flapping wing beats make me look up to see-

Oh.

Hello, Mother?

-------

The hag digs her fingers into the ground, rubbing her face against the soft grass. The deeper they went into the forest, the more color returned to her face, in direct contrast with the blind dwarf and armless minotaur. But still, more energetic only meant her steps were surer, in contrast with wobbling and dragging on her feet as she walked. Her face was still that of a hag and her hair was still dead and lifeless.

The Minotaur led the way, the blind dwarf and hag stumbling behind as they were still bound to each other by the rope around their waists.

That Mioldri Priest hadn't even bothered removing it. He'd only thrown a rusted sword at the ground and left. That sword was now being carried by the dwarf with straining arms, as they went deeper into the Wildlands.

Without being able to use his smithing skills for what felt like years, his arms had wasted away, trembling under the heavy weight of the chipped and rusted broadsword.

The priest must have thought it was funny to give them a broadsword when the only one who could wield it, the Minotaur, was armless.

The consensus among the trio was to get deep enough into the Wildlands that the priest couldn't easily take them out of it again. The rope proved actually helpful in keeping the group together, even. Especially for the blind dwarf. With the rope in front of him attached to the Minotaur, he at least knew which direction to walk in without getting lost.

Stopping in his stracks, the Minotaur flicks his tail in frustration. "How are we going to find the raven?"

He’d been resigned to dying, like the dwarf next to him. But the words the priest threw out as he left planted a seed of hope that was slowly sprouting inside him.

Maybe, just maybe, if he found the raven, they really would come and free him.

"What other choice do we have?" The dwarf snaps back.

This reaction made the Minotaur's brows raise in surprise. This dwarf had rarely spoken after the departure of the priest, ignoring the Minotaur's ramblings as he sought out a safe place where they could rest.

As if he can see the Minotaur's expression, the dwarven man continues. "You can't ask me to find it" Tapping at his eyes with a bitter look on his face, the dwarf scowls in the direction of the Minotaur.

And then he goes silent again, his face hardening into the same bitter and dead expression that was usually chiseled into his face.

The Minotaur whuffs his frustration, ridged brows lowering as the mane of long wooly hair that covers one eye flies upward with his expelled breath.

"Hag, can't you do something about these collars, maybe use your magic-"

"I don't have much power left." The hag's raspy voice interrupts him. She never let go of the curled hands clasping her stomach while she shook her head.

"But can't you try?"

The hag slumps against a tree, breathing roughly, as the Minotaur stands there pleading with her to help.

As a warrior who'd fought to protect his people, the Minotaur knew the taste of total defeat. But he'd rebelled once. And he'd taken a vow to never let his spirit die.

It was a close call before, when they’d first entered the Wildlands. The minotaur could feel his strength of will flickering like a candle in the wind. But it was back now.

Everyone knew that a Minotaur was tenacious in fulfilling their goals.

And though old and handicapped he may be, this Minotaur still wanted to live.

"Why don't you just give up." The dwarf snaps again. "You're delaying the inevitable by dragging us around like this."

The bands of the slave collars were made of hard leather, tightly clasped around their throats. Any direct mana manipulation with a signature that was not registered beforehand would cause electric currents to blast through their minds. Every one of them knew that the hag using her magic would only cause them further pain.

"Either the monsters here get to us first, or starvation does. Can't you sense it? The twistedness of this place?"

"My people called this Continent the Forsaken Land..." The hag whispered, seemingly in agreement.

Gritting his teeth, the old dwarf squats down and hugs the broadsword to himself. "And for good reason! Only humans would think of settling a strange land like this."

He'd volunteered to hold the sword himself. Though it would not be worthy of even lying around as trash in his workshop, the feeling of a sword in his hand comforted him now. Perhaps the old gods were trying to comfort him by giving him one last touch of the cold steel. Steel was one of the many metals that he loved. A gift granted to him before his death, perhaps.