Khale woke with the usual vigor he got in the morning, but with something extra.
“OW, DAMN IT!”
He grabbed his shoulder and hissed at the pain radiating from it. It felt like it had been badly bruised.
“What the fuck is this shit?!”
He ran to the bathroom and looked at his back.
Nothing. No bruise or scar or any other mark marred his skin. He looked perfectly fine.
Didn’t stop the pain though. It was a constant unending unrelenting pain. He tried soaking in a hot shower.
Nope.
He applied some Icy-Hot to it.
Nada.
He even gave up and tried taking some painkillers.
Nice try, no.
It was bad enough that he considered calling in sick. Though he went in anyway, that Doctors appointment wasn’t going to pay for itself, and he was starting to think the sooner he got in the better.
Up to this point, the waking world and his dreams had stayed strictly exclusive. Nothing carried over from one to the other. Apparently, the rules had changed. Or maybe they hadn’t, he never had been that badly hurt in his dreams before. Was this normal?
There was some time before he had to leave so he used his phone to look up a few articles, it seemed that although uncommon, some people reported unambiguously feeling pain. However, the pain always lingered and then went away. It didn’t stick around like this was.
Growling at the lack of answers Salad stormed out of the house and drove to work. Trying his damnedest to ignore the pain. It sort of worked, the pain never changed or abated, but was a constant companion. Still, he was able to get used to it, at least to the point where he could function.
Still, a few of his coworkers cottoned on that something was bugging him, some even asked if everything was alright.
He just explained that he was having some shoulder pains and even though he had tried literally everything he could think of, it was still bugging him. Most offered ideas that he already had, though he did try some offered stretches, they didn’t help but it was worth a shot.
The end result was him being a miserable bastard for the entire day.
So naturally, there was only one thing to do when he got home. Misery loves company after all.
His computer whirred to life and he went to work and started looking through his favorite social media sites for opportunities to do some quality shitposting. He had just finished orchestrating a flame war over a beloved sci-fi series's most recent installments when he got a call. Checking his caller id and having an actual name attached he picked up.
“I’m not covering your shift Birdman.”
There was laughter on the other end of the line.
“Not what I’m calling about dude, I was talking with one of my welding instructors and he thought it would be a good idea to let you have a taste of what the job actually consists of before you put money down on it.”
That gave Khale pause.
“Oh. Oh shit, that actually would be great! When is he free?”
“You’ve got Thursday off this week, right? He said he could show you a thing or two at six o’clock. Here, let me give you the address.”
Steve rattled off the location of a nearby welding equipment store that apparently also did classes. Khale thanked him and set up an alarm and an event on his calendar.
He was rubbing his shoulder and about to go to bed when he got an idea. Heading back to his computer he went to a popular Sci-Fi site and made a new post.
[Title: Trapped in weird dream cycle]
[Recently when I’ve been going to bed I’ve been having this recurring weird dream where I’m a Kobold. Not the scally dragon kind, more like the midget teen wolf variant. Whenever I go to sleep I wake up as fuzz butt, and whenever I go to sleep in the dream I wake up in my bed. Does anyone know what tf is going on?]
He finished his post and went to bed, he wouldn’t get any immediate replies, and asking for help on the internet was a bad idea at the best of times. That said, he was desperate and at worst he wouldn’t get any useful information, but maybe somebody might have some idea of what was going on, or at the very least a better plan of action than he did.
With that done he powered down for the night and went to bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gentle rocking of travel gently woke him as Salad took in his surroundings. He was back in the hunting party and Zig-Zag was still carrying him, though once it was clear he was awake again he was lowered to the ground to walk on his own again.
From the looks of things, he had slept through most of the hike back to his new warren. They were still transporting the legs and head through some of the workers were starting to nibble at the edges. He was trying to get a headcount when he noticed that there seemed to be more Kobolds than before. Some new groups were carrying smaller game, though all of the prey was bigger than they were.
So groups had met up on the way back? When they left they had somewhere in the ballpark of thirty, but as he was looking around that number had swelled to roughly a hundred and as he looked to the back of the line, not everyone was bringing food.
The Kobolds bringing up the rear looked absolutely ragged. Some were missing chunks of fur, while others were just missing chunks. One guy had an arm off, another looked like he had just lost a fistfight with a blender. The worst off by far was one that had somehow lost both arms and a leg and was hopping along while being supported by two of the other walking wounded.
Though it seemed like the left arm had healed over, so only the two missing limbs on his right side were recent losses. You’d think that a person reduced to a single limb would be upset about it, but for whatever reason, the guy reduced to what was essentially a living pogo stick was looking mighty pleased with himself.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
That was when Khale noticed the group he was traveling with also had gotten a rather large catch. It looked like some kind of fish, but with it being half-eaten it was hard to tell. Still, true to form it took ten Kobolds to lift the thing it was so big.
From what he could gather, besides the Burtle they had killed, Pogo’s group had the biggest catch. Big Boss was talking to his group and even with the disconnect from the language Salad was certain he was exasperated.
Interestingly enough he was getting more of the conversation now than he had last time. In fact, for the last few days, more words made sense to him. Which was odd, because he was pretty sure that this wasn’t how you learned a language. You actually had to spend time and energy figuring out what meant what. He had been doing that or at least tried to. Barks growls and whines all sounded the same to him though and the end result was that any attempt made on his part was a haphazard guess.
At the same time, no one had really talked to him before now. Hell, no one talked to him now either. But still, he was managing to pick up some words here and there without any context as to how.
Khale was sensing shenanigans.
Still, it was working in his favor so he tried to put it out of his mind.
For now.
The general mood of the crowd was a celebratory one, even the injured seemed somewhat pleased. As they exited the forest he saw other large groups entering the plains. Though they didn’t seem to be heading back to the warren, but rather congregation around some stone piles.
He’d call it a low effort version of Stonehenge but that was giving it too much credit. There was practically a festival of various meats as the crowds congregated into a massive horde.
Then they started to howl.
More Huskey Kobold variants popped out of the ground, and to his surprise, they seemed to be pouring out of the ground almost everywhere. He had assumed that they only had the one warren where he was staying, but he counted dozens of them, and that was just the ones he could see. Or maybe it was one giant warren with a lot of entrances?
The way they popped out of the ground reminded him a lot of prairie dogs, though it really clashed with their appearance something fierce.
As the entirety of the local Bold population surfaced Zag came and grabbed him and led him over to the group of adolescents he had been leading. From what he could interpret it seemed the older lad didn’t want him to get lost in the crowd. The other teens didn’t seem too interested in him, paying more attention to Zag.
Climbing one of the rock piles the group watched the sea of Kobold's mill about. Some of the carcasses had been devoured down to their bones. Other piles had groups that were doing the same weird third fang thing. Those were either taken to the side or dragged underground.
As he was looking around he noticed that there wasn’t much in the way of other adolescents In fact, he could only see a few other groups from his perch and they were being herded by the adults to do grunt work, like dragging bones away and other chores. From what he could see, his group was one of the few that wasn’t getting press-ganged, but they weren't exactly allowed to go wandering off either.
The hunting party had congregated around them, and while some of the adults would wander off, there was always a sizable group surrounding the teens. As the celebration was going on there seemed to be a rising tension as Kobolds were obviously looking around, waiting for something to happen.
Then he heard howling in the distance and saw a small contingent of new Kobolds approaching. Though that said, small was a matter in comparison, they just had a couple hundred as opposed to the swarm of thousands he currently was in. Their appearance got cheers of excitement as the new group approached. As they got closer he could see some distinct differences.
They were heavily clothed, at least by Kobold standards, the only real pieces of clothing he had seen up to till this point were armor, and Pot-head was completely naked aside from his homemade helmet. For everyone else, it was ill-fitting breastplates that came down to their wearer's knees. Or planks of wood strapped to different areas of the body.
He even saw a contingent of Kobolds wearing only planks on their faces. Either it was a fashion statement or it held some higher meaning. Considering the first plank face he’d met was doing a shamanistic ritual of some kind, he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out the Kobolds had some sort of organized religion. These Kobolds were almost completely covered, head to toe in cloth of some kind. Mismatched as they may be. They wore various styles of togas, oversized shirts, though oddly enough the pants that some wore seemed decently sized.
Also, every single one of them was armed and heavily so, with each one carrying multiple weapons. Seeing just one Kobold with a single weapon was a rare sight. Out of the entire hunting party, those wielding weapons could have been counted on a single hand. Even Big Boss, the one that had been their best fighter, was unarmed.
The new group stopped a short distance away and the one that looked like they were in charge shouted something and a Kobold Khale hadn’t seen before walked out to meet the newcomers. At his command, some Bolds brought out an assortment of meats, one of which was one of the remaining legs of the Burtle. The clothed one looked over the meat and seemed to come to a decision, there was a discussion and some runners pushed from the meeting into the crowd towards some of the encamped groups.
One of which was Khale’s.
Only when the runner got closer did Salad realize that it was Big Boss. He started calling forward Kobolds, starting with Pot-head, he called a couple more before looking at Zig-Zag and then side-eyed Khale. Then Zag was called forward and Big Boss gestured for both him and Salad to follow.
The small group and a suddenly very nervous Zag pushed through the crowd. They met up with the Kobold that had gone to speak with the clothed ones, he was a full head taller than Big Boss. When he saw Salad he turned and asked their leader a question. The now second tallest Kobold gave the equivalent of a shrug and said something while gesturing at Zag, which seemed to satisfy the Bigger Boss. Zag was panting a bit and looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. As soon as the other groups joined they all went over to the new group.
Once they were standing close, Khale realized something that hadn’t been apparent from his vantage at the rock pile. All of the clothed ones were at least a head taller than any other Kobold. Looking around, he saw that Bigger Boss was a head shorter than most of the clothed group.
Bigger Boss started talking to the Clothed Boss, seeming to introduce each group of Kobolds in turn. Gesturing to each group and then to their corresponding kill. Each got a respectful nod though the Burlte got some clear interest. After that, the Clothed Boss gestured to the leaders of four groups, one of which was Big Boss. They all stepped forwards and the envoy said something to them. Khale despite his improving vocabulary hadn’t the slightest idea what was being said.
Whatever it was got the group leaders moving as each leader sped back to their own team. There was palpable excitement as words were exchanged and instructions were given. Zag picked me up and looked like he was simultaneously having the best day of his life and a stroke at the same time. The clothed group moved a short distance away and guards were clearly posted, with the exception of four individuals standing prominently out in the field along with their boss.
The hunting party approached one of the figures and Khale finally got a good look at the clothed one. He was still definitely a Kobold, though way taller than Big Boss and it was wearing a toga of some kind that was covered in an assortment of trinkets. They spoke, and it was evident that they were giving instructions from both tone and posture. When he saw Khale he glanced at the team leader in confusion.
Big Boss gave what sounded like an explanation. Apparently, it was satisfying enough that it only warranted some kind of dry comment, though Zag held him a bit tighter.
This was wildly confusing.
The clothed one turned and gestured for them to follow, leading the group past the guards. The first thing he noticed was the smell, it was different in a way that he couldn’t quantify. Up till now, he had a decent handle on his senses, but he was completely lost. He had to focus intently on his nose just to unravel what was bothering him so much. Every Kobold had an underlying scent that said “hi, I’m a Kobold” but this one was different. It still said that but it was wrong somehow.
No. Wrong wasn’t the correct word, it was different, but in a way he couldn’t place.
The crowd parted around them as their guide brought them forward. Then the guide stopped and then the rest of the clothed ones approached. They grabbed at tufts covering scars and pawed at limbs testing muscles. Others looked inside their jaws and ears like they were doing a medical examination. Pot-head’s helmet was lifted up to reveal a face that was badly scarred, the poor guy was missing an ear too. The clothed one sucked in a breath through bared teeth in obvious displeasure. They called the guide over who examined him more closely, running fingers over scars and pressing here and there.
After a short while they made a declaration, Pot-head relaxed, even if the other clothed ones seemed unsure. The guide seemed to think for a bit and placed the homemade helmet back down and made a comment. The only bit of which Khale caught was “stay”. That got a laugh from the crowd and the examinations continued.
For whatever reason, Zag wasn’t subjected to too much, just a bare-bones examination as interested parties came and went. He was desperately trying to look taller as he garnered interest as quickly as he was losing it.
One seemed to take a deeper interest and posed a question, to which Zag answered in the negative with that strange doggy head shake. They made a show of tapping their chin contemplation, then pulled their toga open. The smell he caught was stronger now and as the toga fluttered in the breeze everything clicked into place.
The clothed Kobolds were female. All of them.
That was why the scent had felt off at first! Looking from one to the next he could see different ‘breeds’ of kobold represented. There were of the brown-furred ones of his own tribe, as well as the local Huskey variant and a bunch of others. The most striking was one that looked like an Irish Wolfhound. She had a wild look about her that made it seem like she had stepped out of a fairy tale. But one of the ancient ones where they fey trapped the souls of the unwary in stones for unperceivable slights that only made sense to them.
The female Kobold that had disrobed beckoned with a lone finger and Zag clearly wanted to follow, but he seemed to remember something and then looked down at Khale with a troubled expression. Catching on to his distress the temptress said something else and gestured to the crowd. Zig-Zag Brightened up and held Khale with arms outstretched, as soon as one of the females took a hold of the pup Zag was off like a horny lightning bolt.
As Khale watched the retreating back of his chaperone he could only shake his head. He couldn’t blame the lad, he had been a teenager once after all, far be it for him to judge someone when hormones held them hostage. Plus, the look on the female that was holding Salad, a Husky variant wearing a shirt and pants affair, was absolutely hilarious.
It didn’t take a linguist to translate her expression, the poor girl clearly had no idea what to make of Khale or what to do with him. As some of the others broke off to go do something, Zag probably. He meanwhile gathered his own small crowd as some came forward to look at him more closely.
An older-looking female showed the girl how to hold him properly as conversation swirled around him. Still foreign, still beyond his understand. For now.
What he could gather was he appeared to be a novelty, he wasn’t sure why, but that wasn’t too much of a concern for the moment.
Then someone scratched him behind the ear.
He melted, pushing into the hand and letting out a small happy whine. Is this what dogs felt? Holy shit, it was like a full-body massage localized to a single side of his head. He heard happy cooing, which was really weird coming from a canine mouth.
But it wasn’t over, and he was not prepared for the belly rubs.
It was amazing, not even the snuggle pits could compare to this heaven. The petting, the scratchies. It was too much. His tongue lolled out of his head as he was passed from lap to lap. They even cared for his bruised shoulder, the pain had receded throughout the day, but under their ministrations, it seemed almost nonexistent. His blissful relaxation so deep he only realized he had fallen asleep when he woke up in his own bed.