Scypha's stomach rumbled with hunger and discomfort as she huddled up to the freezing-cold metal bars of the slave cart.

She was turned away from the other slaves, short, green-skinned goblins all, looking instead towards the outside of the cart, towards the snowy forest on the side of the road. She sat with her cold, stiff legs around the metal bars. She’d found that the discomfort of the cold helped her focus on her own thoughts, if only a little, while looking at people made her feel like … she was drifting away.

“Vifafey, my god, please help us,” she mumbled, trying to focus on the words. “Bring us to safety and freedom, away from tyrants ... Vifafey, my god, please help us … save these people from…”

Her head suddenly jerked to the side, moving of its own volition. She bit her tongue, wincing in pain.

Outside the cart, one of the slavers walked by, looking her up and down hungrily. She closed her eyes, trying not to think, trying to keep her focus on her prayers.

“Vifafey, please help us,” she said again. “Before I lose myself…” Her body kept twitching. It wasn’t because of the cold.

“Hey,” a voice whispered from behind her.

Scypha’s eyes fluttered open, and she turned to look before she could stop herself. A girl with light green skin and long, light brown hair, crawled up to her. A half-breed goblin girl, judging by her appearance. She was one of two – she’d earlier noticed a male goblin that was also taller than the others.

“You’re new to being a slave, aren’t you, pink-skin?” the girl asked. “You should sit with us. It’s easier to keep warm when we’re together.”

Scypha glanced at her for a moment, trying to maintain control of herself, afraid she might bite her own tongue off if she spoke. She nodded.

“Don’t worry, we don’t bite. Even if we are pukes.”

“I’m sorry ... Pukes?” Scypha asked, frowning. Her mouth shook as she spoke.

The girl stared at her. “Yes, pukes.”

“What’s a puke?”

“A goblin. Or half-goblin.”

“Oh. Um … Could I … please use a different term?” Scypha asked.

The girl looked mildly surprised. “Well, that’s a first,” she said. She scuttled a little closer. “My name is Nissaeliah, if you want. Call me Niss.”

An uncommon name for a goblin, as far as Scypha knew … but she hadn’t met many goblins in her life, and the girl was a half-breed, so it’d be harder to tell. As Scypha was thinking, her head suddenly jerked to the side, and her right hand began to shake. She quickly closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and took in a deep breath through her nose.

“It’s nice to meet you, Niss,” she said after a little while, once she had calmed down. “I’m Scypha.”

“Scypha? My brother was right. Weird one. He’s that one, there, by the way, in the corner. My twin brother. His name is Nass. He’s not as nice as I am, though – are you okay, Scypha?”

She nodded, forcing her eyes to remain closed. “I’m fine.”

“You just keep twitching. We’ve all noticed it. Are you sick?”

Scypha shook her head. “No, I … um, I mean yes. I’m sorry, I’m a little sick in the head. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I think I should stay away from everyone right now. Can you please leave me alone for a while?”

She heard the wooden floor of the cart creak slightly from Niss’s direction. “Sure,” the half-goblin said. “Just don’t be a stranger for too long. Come and huddle up to us before your fingers turn black.”

Even after half the day had passed, Scypha hadn’t found the courage to do such a thing. Her thoughts were turning darker and bloodier, and her involuntary movements were starting to happen more often.

It’s only a matter of time, she thought – and what would happen then? Would someone stop her before she hurt anyone? She knew she ought to say something and give the goblins fair warning … but every time she tried to open her mouth to do so, the words wouldn’t come. Her body seemed to rebel against her conscience. All she could do was keep her eyes closed and her arms and legs around the cold iron bars of the cage, making sure she stayed as far away from the goblins as possible.

As she was doing that, freezing cold but focused mostly on her breathing, her fingers suddenly seared with pain.

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She scrambled backward instinctively and saw one of the human slavers standing on the other side of the metal bars. In his hands, he held a wooden bowl, full of thick, oily broth. Her fingers burned … it was because he had spilled some of it on them.

The slaver chuckled and pushed the bowl through the bars, leaving it on the wooden floor in front of Scypha. Then, he stepped away from the cage and made his way to another man, who was cooking something in a large pot.

It was mealtime.

Scypha rubbed her seared fingers together, trying to numb the pain, then crawled up to the bowl and held it up in her hands. It felt wonderfully hot. Her fingers were all stiff, and it felt nice to see the thin layer of ice around them melt. Carefully, she stood up and turned around, sitting back down and leaning on the iron bars. She sniffed the bowl and placed it on her lap, trying to relax for a moment and letting the heat warm her up a little.

The broth smelled horrible, but she didn’t really mind. The warmth was enough, and she was hungry, too. The slavers didn’t feed her much.

She noticed once again that they hadn’t given anyone any cutlery. A memory of her angry mother flashed in front of her – she really didn’t like it when Scypha did anything unladylike – but at that point, there really wasn’t an option other than eating with her hands. All the goblins were doing it, in any case.

“My god, Vifafey, thank you for the meal you’ve provided me,” she whispered, then began to eat.

She quickly finished her meal, partly because she was half-starved and partly because it was warm. Objectively, she knew it tasted terrible, but it didn't feel that way to her. It tasted amazing, like the warm, severed limbs of an innocent child …

Scypha started. “What?!” she shouted aloud.

All around her, goblins and humans turned and stared. Scypha gulped and breathed hard, trying to ascertain if she’d really just had the vile thought. It disappeared from her mind like smoke.

She began shaking, her vision growing cloudy for a moment. Then it cleared up again.

After eventually calming down and taking her last swig of broth along with a piece of stale bread, she stifled a burp and just sat still. For a long time, she just stared at the empty space in front of her with the warm bowl in her lap. She began to feel sleepy.

After a little while, a freezing cold wind began to blow through the metal bars of the caged wagon, and she suddenly shivered and curled up into herself, goosebumps all over her skin.

Just when her teeth started to chatter, the half-goblin girl from before, on the other side of the cart, stood up, walked over, and sat next to Scypha, shielding her from the wind.

“Hi again,” she said. She seemed to have an accent Scypha hadn’t noticed before. “Are you back in there? Criffa, right?” she asked.

Scypha shook her head. It felt clear, like there wasn’t a single bloody thought in her mind. “No, my name is Scypha,” she said. “But nice try. Hi, Niss.”

“Right. Scypha. Hey, um, are you still feeling sick? You look fine … surprisingly good, actually, after all this time … but I still think you should join us, to get warm. Staying alone here in the cold can’t be good for you.”

Scypha smiled weakly. She felt good. “Actually … I think … I might really be getting a little better, right now, but … I don’t know. Maybe it’s the food. Still, I shouldn’t get near you guys. Not yet.”

“Alright,” Niss said. “That … um … that makes sense. You can take a little longer, I don’t mean to pressure you or anything. Just wanted to let you know you’re still welcome to join us, no matter how some people start to look at you.”

Scypha started. “Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot. I … I don’t really like being alone.”

“Well, you can join us whenever you’re ready. We’ll appreciate the extra warmth,” Niss said. She smiled. “Even if some of us are starting to think you’re a racist, like the rest of your kind.”

“What?” Scypha asked. “I worship Vifafey. I’m not a racist.”

“So you say, but you really are trying to stay as far away from us pukes as you can. And most followers of Vifafey are racist.”

“Well … I just don’t want to hurt you! Or … infect you.”

“You know, I think I might actually believe that. The way you scared off that slaver before? That was … really scary.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the whole ‘your darling little daughter’s blood will clot for me in the mud before I sweep it into the gutter…’ and all that? You … um … you really got the man. He looked like a rabbit in front of a knife. And you looked like you were possessed.”

Scypha stared at Niss, stunned. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I mean … he really got a fright. I have to say, I probably would have, too, if you’d done something like that to me. Were you faking, or was that a part of your illness? What happened to your eyes?”

“When did I say those things?” Scypha asked.

“Just … before? You know, after mealtime, when he came to take your bowl?”

“But I still have my bowl,” Scypha said, glancing down at her lap … and finding it empty.

She looked around in all directions but found no bowl in sight, hot, warm, or otherwise. The goblins on the other side of the cart, all huddled together, sneaked glances at her. She could tell … they were afraid.

“What happened?” she murmured. “What did I do?”

“Hey, Scypha?” Niss asked. “You are just playing, right? You’re just trying to scare off the slavers, so they don’t rape you like they do the other human women? It’s a good idea, if you are, and … I think it might even work. Keep at it … but … with the way you keep spasming and twitching even while they’re not around, we’re starting to get scared, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Scypha said, trembling slightly. A vision of blood flashed before her eyes. Her heart started to race.

Suddenly, she still couldn’t see anything but drops of blood, falling gracefully right before her eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening—”

Her vision suddenly cleared up.

She turned towards Niss, but … her green face wasn’t there.

It was dark, all of a sudden. Nearly pitch black. Scypha couldn’t see a thing.

The only sounds to be heard were those of an owl hooting somewhere overhead, and on the other side of the dark metal bars behind Scypha, the moon was high in the sky above rows of pitch-black trees. Stars covered the night sky. Scypha could hear faint snoring sounds coming from the direction where the goblins had huddled together.

She pinched her cheek as hard as she could, then wildly looked around, feeling numb, like she was in a daze.

Nothing happened. She had no idea what had happened.

But she was talking to no one.