The last thing Drake could recall before he passed out was a figure above him. Then it all went black. He awoke to sharp pains tearing across his chest and back, reminding him that Sargasso had managed to land a clean slash on his back. Fortunately, Drake didn’t think the gash was too deep, or if it was, the blood had been stopped somehow. Hadn’t he been drowning? Where was he anyway, and why did his ribs hurt so damn bad?

He slowly managed to open bleary, gray eyes. Sunlight was just beginning to stream in through the windows, birdsong lightly playing outside. Drake surveyed the dim room. His gaze was met with purple drapes and sturdy wooden furnishings. A hearth lay against the opposite wall, with what looked like furs and wooden boards that made up the floor. One thing was certain - it wasn’t a military tent or barracks, and it didn’t smell like a latrine or death. This is a pleasant place to be.

Drake attempted to sit but pain exploded throughout his torso as his muscles tensed to try. Gasping, he then noticed a weight on his chest and side, also stopping him from sitting. His left arm was pinned under something along with it lying on his chest. His fingers moved in curiosity toward the weight, finding something firm, yet soft and warm. Perplexed, his eyes focused a bit more as he looked down at his chest.

There was a bump under the comforter. With his free hand he slowly slid the cover back. There slept a small woman, gently snoring in the crook of his arm, head resting on his chest, as she stirred slightly at the movement. Drake’s eyes went wide. A woman. A green one at that. Her long ebony hair cascaded down and onto his chest. The morning light caressed her heart-shaped face. Pointed ears occasionally twitched as she snoozed.

The soldier was not an expert on the races of the realms. He had no idea what the woman sleeping on top of him was. He knew she wasn’t human, she was smaller than him, and apparently heavier than she looked.

She’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

She gripped him like a teddy bear, squeezing tenderly. Agony ripped through him. He ground his teeth, trying not to cry out in pain. Drake wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to hang onto this moment for as long as he could. That was when he felt something wet on his back. He fumbled with his free hand to touch it. Pulling his hand back, he grimaced, blood shining on it.

All of it had actually happened. The battle, that prick Sargasso slashing him across the back, the river. Did that mean he was free? He hoped so. Drake closed his eyes, then, passed out.

***

Gigi did not feel well. Her head was pounding, and she felt nauseous. Exhaustion inundated her body. The distinct smell of river water assaulted her nose. Had she gone swimming last night? Before she could drag an answer from her foggy memory, she was awakened with a start by a scream.

“I’m up! I’m up!” Gigi mumbled as she rolled out of the bed and collapsed onto the floor.

It was her mother, Griselda. She was screaming at her. Gigi managed to keep one bleary eye open as her mind raced to comprehend what fresh hell she had woken up to as the drums in her head doubled.

“GIGI, WHO IS THAT MAN?” her mother shrieked.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What man?” Gigi asked, confusion plastered on her face.

“The one bleeding to death in your bed!” she said motioning behind her daughter.

Gigi almost tripped as she spun on her heels. Her mother was right; there was a man in her bed. A man turning her sheets red.

“Well don’t just stand there looking stupid, girl. Go get towels, thread, and needle.”

Though disoriented and bewildered, Gigi snapped into action with her mother’s familiar, demanding tone. Darting into the hall, nearly falling on her face, she rushed for the linens.

“And boil some water!” the goblin matron yelled out after her.

Her siblings were beginning to pop their heads out, curious what all the excitement was over. However, Gigi’s mother slammed the door to the room before any of her nosy children could see the ghastly sight within.

“We are going to have a very serious,” and angry, “conversation about this Gigi,” Griselda muttered to herself. “Now I need to make sure this scraggly human doesn’t die in my house,” she sighed to herself.

Gigi raced back and forth, grabbing what she was commanded to by her mother. Before she became a baker, her mother had been a wartime nurse to her father and his companions. Stitching skin back together was something Gigi’s mother was grimly accustomed to.

With some difficulty, they managed to stymie the wound. “I know a cut from a blade when I see one Gigi,” Griseldsa lectured. “On the back no less, shameful.” Gigi frowned but knew to keep her tongue still. When the bandages had finally set, Gigi’s mother bundled up all the soiled linen, shoving them into Gigi’s arms.

“Wash these, use baking soda and salt to get the stains out the best you can, then meet me in the pantry,” Griselda said with frustration.

Gigi grimaced. No good came from the pantry. She was about to get screamed at until her mother turned yellow. With thick walls and a lock on the door, it was the scene of many punishments Griselda had doled out on her children. Generally, well-deserved punishments. Gigi was no stranger to the pantry.

Laundry was never pleasant work, but the blood stains made it much worse. Even still, she worked diligently until her hangover got the better of her. Taking a brief break to vomit, she got back to work until the stains had gone from dark red to a light maroon. She figured this was as good as it was going to get.

Her mother was waiting for her outside the pantry. Her siblings had attempted to gather around the site of what was sure to be a highly entertaining punishment. They were quickly shooed away by Griselda, whom the children could tell was not to be trifled with at the moment. When Gigi sheepishly showed her face, her mother stormed over, pinching her by the ear and dragging her into the pantry. She slammed the door behind her.

“Explain,” her mother demanded, letting Gigi go and folding her arms.

Gigi rubbed her ear. “I don’t know, I’m as confused as you are. The last thing I remember was talking to Uvara...” she trailed off.

“UVARA! You were at the tavern again?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“May the old ones bless you. You let some gutter rat from the tavern into your bed? A human no less!”

“It isn’t like that,” Gigi protested. “At least I don’t think it’s like that,” she followed quickly.

“GIGI!”

“What?”

“Stupid girl, I saw you retching outside. By the old ones, if you are with child, human or not, you will be stuck with him.”

“MOTHER, I’m just not feeling well from last night,” she said, putting a palm on her pounding temple.

“That’s exactly what worries me.”

“Besides, can a human and us even...”

“Oh, sweety, as the old saying goes: garbage in, goblin out.”

Gigi grimaced. “So what do we do with him now?”

“WE? WE aren’t doing anything. You are going to make sure that man doesn’t die in this house. At least until we know you aren’t pregnant, then I don’t know. He’s your pet and problem.”

“I’m not,” she growled.

“Fine, you’re not.” Griselda took a few copper coins from a pouch sitting near the back of the panty. “Go buy your dog a collar.”