9. Missing

Dorothy had seen no reason to lie. She'd explained as best she could with an angry goblin looming over her that Gob had been injured and that last she knew he was lying on the couch. But he'd disappeared since and she'd no clue where he'd gotten to.

Taruk had listened with what seemed to be patience, but he now issued a low growl and grabbed her by her hair. He placed the cold edge of the axe against her throat. "Truth, womanling?"

"Truth," she stuttered, while a cold paralysing fear the likes she'd never felt before took a hold of her frail frame. "No reason to lie... and I'm not to blame. Your clan are the ones who let him wander off under their noses."

Taruk's grip tightened on her hair and Dorothy braced herself for the agony of having her head hacked off. But then the towering goblin let go, and belted his axe. "Truth."

He strode back into the kitchen.

Dorothy took a shaky breath, surprised she hadn't died and surprised she hadn't wet herself. She looked around for Gob but couldn't see him hiding anywhere.

"Womanling," Taruk called from the kitchen.

Dorothy reluctantly walked over, wondering if her iron pan would do any damage at all to such a powerful foe.

"You have lived here many moons," he said when she approached. "Your stink is everywhere. So I will permit you to live upon my lands, as your prime is so far behind you. But the survivor must be returned for us to make a peace. I will come back here and you will return him to me. Or I will come back here and take your life instead."

"What if I can't--"

Great Chiefs Taruk turned, cutting her short with a pitiless glare. "I have shown you mercy, womanling. You are... lucky," he mocked.

The huge goblin then departed, ducking back under the doorway, but Dorothy had chased after him.

"Wait," she said. "Take this."

She offered him the now lukewarm bowl of venison stew.

Taruk stared at her in suspicion, eventually taking the worn bowl from her hands. "Poison?"

Dorothy simply shook her head.

He sniffed the bowl, swallowed a few hearty mouthfuls, and then passed the rest to his herald as he left.

"We will soon return, womanling," Taruk called over his shoulder, not looking back while the gathered goblins parted to either side of the dirt road. "Do not be empty handed. This is not worth dying for."

***

Dorothy had poured herself a second bowl of stew, but now she stared down at the steam twisting up from the broth she found that her appetite, much like Gob, had disappeared.

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She couldn't quite believe that what had happened had actually happened, and that a well spoken goblin leader had come to her home to demand the return of one of their scrawny kin.

Surely neither Gob, nor Dorothy, were important enough to bothering with like this.

She should have never gotten herself involved to begin with.

Leave the goblins to the goblins.

She was all too ready to hand Gob back to his own kind, but now she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to find him before Taruk came back to chop off her head.

Probably best for all involved if she just packed up her things and left. Gob would find his own way home, and the goblins wouldn't bother pursuing an old woman into what they saw as manling lands.

"Foolish woman," she muttered to herself.

She tore a chunk off bread with her, she regretfully realized, ungodly sore teeth. Then spat it into the bowl to soften in the stew.

Eventually remembering her hunger, she finished the bowl and a large helping of soggy bread.

It wasn't the best meal she'd ever made but it had been a long while since she'd had fresh meat.

Her husband had always been a talented hunter, and he had brought home game both big and small. Though he never had managed to bring back a stag.

Gordon had always put a lot of faith in Laykia the Huntress, so slaying the beast that was her idol probably didn't sit quite right with him.

He was a hard man in most things, Dorothy always thought, but terribly soft in others. It was a shame he'd never got to see Robert's babe 'cause no doubt he would have doted on his first grandchild.

Dorothy had always done her best with whatever maternal instincts she had, but they weren't ample to begin with. She'd taken good care of her son, but always felt a little like she was playing a part.

And she never saw much of herself in the boy. She couldn't remember if that was why she was so set on having a girl after, or if she'd wanted the girl before, and maybe that was she she'd struggled with a son instead.

So many winters ago now it was hard to remember the things she did nevermind the things she thought or the order she thought them in.

If her current predicament was anything to go by, then she'd never had a talent for thinking to begin with. Maybe that was why Gordon was always telling her to keep her head down. He was just trying to stop her getting it hacked off by some dwarven axe.

Dorothy walked back into her sitting room, surveying all her things cast about all over every chair and surface, dimly lit by a pair of wavering candles.

She'd come in here to finish sorting things out, but the sight of all the work she had to do robbed her of any motivation.

She'd never liked packing even at the best of times, and now, even with the threat of death looming over her head, she wasn't sure what to bring.

Like as not it didn't much matter what she brought at all. She couldn't have that many winters left ahead of her, and she only ever wore a handful of the clothes she owned.

Maybe she didn't even need a pair of sacks, just the clothes on her back, food for the journey, and a few keepsakes.

Least then she might travel light enough to get clear of the forest before any other goblins caught wind of her.

Dorothy sighed, and settled down on the couch, wondering if it would be wise to travel with the setting sun or to wait for the coming dawn.

"Taruk gone?" a high and strangled voice asked beside her.

Dorothy jumped, her heart skipping a beat as she looked around for the speaker.

"Taruk gone," the voice assuredly repeated. She looked down at the pile of clothes beside her to see Gob's wild eyes staring up, his fanged smile showing as a sliver amid the fabrics.

"Oi," Dorothy grumbled. "Get out of there!"

Gob leapt up, sending clothes flying, and landed amid the sitting room. "Dot!" he happily greeted. "Chief Dot!" he corrected with a shallow bow. "What do now?"