The wrinkled giant did not have to walk far before she reached her lair. The cave looked strange from the outside, despite it being made out of stones. It had flames coming out of the cave’s glossy eyes.

Warmth radiated from the den of the giant.

She pushed a flat tree to open the path inside, then pushed it back to prevent its escape. It was so warm and cozy inside… No! No.

It had to focus.

There must be a way to escape this place.

This place assailed its nostrils with the fragrance of spring, and the savory tastes of summer and-

Fire.

The little goblin froze in its place as the flames swayed, contained in a stone prison. The giant has destroyed mountains to make a cave, felled many a great tree to construct a maze of wooden obstacles inside the cave, and even tamed flames. And if even the dangerous flames failed to escape this giant, what would a tiny creature like a goblin do?

It was feeling warm, though. Very, very warm.

Its large ears drooped to the sides of its face, and the goblin crashed on the hairy hand. It was hard to breathe, all of a sudden. It was also feeling so very exhausted.

The goblin thought about its tiny burrow, with the warm pine needles bed and the weave of roots that covered the entrance. The nice comforts and the safety. It shouldn’t have left.

“Here we go,” the giant spoke, placing it gently on soft ground. Ground as soft as the sides of a sleeping deer. “Oh you poor little thing. You are burning up.”

The goblin tried its best to keep its eyes open, before cowering in fear as the large pale fingers touched it. They were nice and cool on its body, but that was all they were. It whimpered as it waited for them to seize it again.

“Where did I place that-” the giant’s voice trailed away from the goblin, taking the scary hand along with her.

It tried hard to get its trembling wobbly legs to carry its body. And it eventually managed to do so, even as its vision doubled and its body swayed. Giant wooden walls surrounded it from all sides, one of its arms was badly injured, and the other barely managed to grab into a crack in the wood before giving up.

The giant was back, this was the end.

It dropped on the soft ground, heaving as its breaths started catching on to one another, and the heat kept on rising. It was hotter than summer's sun during the middle of the day.

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There were many feelings following that.

First was the flaring pain in its arm, as the giant toyed with it. A conflagration of hurt followed by a stab. The goblin winced and hissed weakly.

“It’s okay, little one,” the gentle voice rumbled. “You will be better in no time.

The same happened to its ear, soon after. The pain got much worse before it was dulled, and then numbed. Then it felt a bitter, cold liquid on its lips, dropping gently into its mouth. The goblin struggled against the strangling hold, that liquid was torture.

Evil giant, evil giant!

It left it alone and was walking away again, the goblin remained down with its eyes closed. No point in struggling anymore. Its breathing slowed, and its tiny chest rose and fell in a more gentle manner. It could see the heart of the forest, moonlight dancing between the ancient trees’ boughs.

Beds of moss and beds of flowers. Fruit ripe and sweet, juicy berries with a tangy stickiness.

“You must be hungry, you poor thing,” the giant suddenly returned, making it flinch and open its eyes again. Its tiny heart raced in its chest.

What was that strange dream? No, priorities. Danger in the form of white liquid in an invisible container held by large, approaching fingers. The goblin's eyes widened in terror as the giant's wrinkled hand reached toward it. Its instincts screamed at it to flee. But its body demanded rest. The giant's hand enveloped the goblin, and it was lifted into the air, large feet waggling.

The giant spoke in a soft voice, "Don't be afraid, little Snarl. I'm not going to hurt you."

Terror. Helplessness. It was grasped by the hairy hand again, held in place with no power to fight back. The goblin tried its best to fight back against the object being forced into its mouth, not that fighting back did anything to stop that… this…

Sweet ambrosia.

A nectar it only heard the legends of from ancient goblins.

“That's it,” the giant whispered before taking the ambrosia of the heavens away from it. The goblin followed the container with large green eyes.

More. It wanted more. It needed more.

“There you go,” the giant brought the container, now refilled with the treasure of the stomach. It licked with greed, consuming droplet after droplet until the container was empty again. “You want more milk?”

The giant moved again, pointing at a tiny bowl filled with the white liquid. A treasure that would rival a dragon’s hoard!

“Milk!?” the giant pointed and it followed with interest. She eventually filled the container and allowed it a share of the invaluable fluid.

Yes! Yes! more!

“You sure seem to like it,” the giant continued to talk. “Milk? More milk?”

It kept repeating the word, as it pointed to the sacred sap of the ancients. The container left, came back refilled, and the cycle repeated a few times. Enough times that the goblin figured out what those sounds meant. It was the name of the ambrosia, the fulfilling liquid.

MILK