Dakota dug a shallow trench in a semi-circle around himself with the stream at his back. He filled the trench with twigs, sticks, and branches before rushing back to his scouting base where he had made a small fire with the blue flame.

He lit the fuel in the trench with the fire and waited. Time to bluff his way through this. The trench and fire weren’t for defensive purposes, a person (or goblin) could easily step over it. He was counting on the goblins being superstitious and paranoid. Nothing like blue fire arrayed in a semi-circle around the person you’re trying to kill to stoke those emotions.

Twenty minutes later, he was surrounded. He could hear the goblins creeping around him in the underbrush. They were quiet, but not that quiet.

“Well, is he coming?”

He looked around the clearing.

A few goblins appeared on the path leading into the forest. They eyed the flames, uncertainty flickering on their faces, as the goblin chief stomped into view.

He was as ugly as Dakota remembered. Rolls of fat billowed around his neck and face, making his face appear scrunched. The big goblin stopped twenty feet away.

“Good afternoon.”

The goblin chief stared at him, his beady eyes roving across Dakota and the blue flames.

“Pretty fire.”

The chief’s voice grated on his nerves. The sound was both gravelly and snivelling at the same time. It also appeared he wasn’t fooled by Dakota’s trick with the flames. Shoot. Too late to run now.

“What does the fleshbag want…before I kill it.”

He raised his hands, making a calming gesture.

“Let’s not be hasty, I came to trade. I have questions that I need answered. If your request is reasonable, I’m prepared to pay.”

The chief grimaced as if the words gave him consternation.

“Questions…what could stupid human want from goblins? Also, what does fleshbag have to pay?”

“You’ll hear my questions in a moment if you’re up for it. In terms of my payment. I can offer vegetables and fish. I also know how to weave wool.”

The last part was a complete lie. Dakota barely knew the difference between one end of a sheep and the other but he thought he needed to beef up his offerings. Not like he would be forced to prove his weaving skill anyways. He hoped.

The goblin chief’s brows knit together.

“Vegetables?” He appeared to struggle with the word. “Fish?” His brows furrowed farther.

“Fleshbag thinks we are animals, happy with the scraps.”

A vein bulged on the chieftain’s forehead as his breathing became ragged.

“Okay! Okay. Not that then…what do you want. What would the Goblin Chieftain want.”

He realized he had no idea whether this was actually the big goblin’s title, but it seemed to have calmed the beast down.

The chief paused, raising a hand to stroke his jiggling chin.

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“Fleshbag says he wants to ask questions. The… Goblin Chief.” The big goblin smiled as he said the word. “Proposes a trade of questions but Gob gets to ask first!.”

A question for a question? That felt suspiciously fair to Dakota but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Okay then, I agree. Ask away.”

“How did fleshbag get here.”

The last word hissed through the Chief’s teeth.

“I don’t know.”

Dakota stared at the big goblin as the vein on its forehead pulsed.

“I promise. I truly don’t know how I got here. One second I’m walking up the steps to my house the next, I’m here.”

He raised his hands in an “I’m in the dark as well” motion.

The Chief growled but sat on a stump.

“Gob hates that he thinks the idiot human is speaking the truth.”

“Great! Where am I?

The big goblin looked puzzled.

“Like where am I?

Dakota gestured to the sky with both hands.

The goblin chief shifted.

“You know where you are. You are on Scyclkclk.”

It was his turn to feel puzzled.

The goblin chief sighed.

“Stupid fleshbag, you’re on a Neo Nathe.”

The chief scowled as he said the last two words as if they caused him actual pain.”

His look of puzzlement didn’t lift. The Chief’s eyes narrowed.

“Does human not know what Neo Nathe is? But that is what all humans call this… must come from very far away…very far. It means ‘high rock’.”

Ah. The island. That’s what the goblin chief was referring to.

“That’s not quite what I meant. I was more asking where in the wor…”

The Chief held up his hand.

“You asked question, I answered, now my turn.”

Dakota gritted his teeth and nodded. Fine. He could ask again.

The chief leaned forward and the vein on his forehead bulged again.

“Why stealing my ISLAND.”

“I’m not trying to steal anything! I promise. I just want to go home!”

“Not trying to steal…why NECK MARKED.”

Dakota felt his neck. It…he…a mark? Now that he felt for it, there was a small indentation behind the upper part of his jaw, right on his neck.

“I…I don’t know how that got there.”

“Fleshbag doesn’t know much. Better if flesh bag were to fall from island. Then it could BOTHER WHAT LIVES ON THE SURFACE.”

The chief suddenly sat back, reigning in his rage.

“Human answered Chief, now human’s turn to ask.”

Dakota opened his mouth…and saw the Chief’s eyes flick behind his shoulder. He twisted and watched an arrow shoot by him. When had he gotten so fast?

“That settles negotiations then.”

He sprang across the stream, using the toilet branch as a launch pad. He overshot the bank, crashing into the undergrowth as the goblin chief roared. Crap, this wasn’t how he intended it to go. He dodged another arrow and watched it bury itself into a tree.

He sprinted through the bushes, pausing to slug a goblin hanging from a tree in the stomach. Goblins surrounded him but his chief concern was the Chief barreling across the stream.

Did the big goblin look more muscular than before?

Dakota front-kicked a creature into a tree. Time for plan B. He turned, rushing parallel to the stream. A large shape crashed into the bushes ahead of him.

The goblin chief reared its head, muscles bunching.

“WHY RUNNING?”

Freak. He darted to the right but the Chief stuck with him. He didn’t remember it being so fast. The chief threw a haymaker, smashing through the tree behind him as he slipped to the side. Dakota delivered his own punch to the Chief’s gut but his fist practically bounced off the creature. He backpedaled, swinging his hoe in an overhead swing. The iron end bit into the Chief’s shoulder, drawing blood.