The Goblin Nation 89 Hurt But Recovering

Inside a large tent made of deer hide and sewn together garments was Sun, who was resting his body on a soft pile of leather blankets. His mother, Mari, sat next to him, resting her palm on his injured leg. A gentle glowing light would flicker on her hand as she tried to heal her son with a healing spell. But the mana was exhausted, and she did not know a way to replenish it faster.

"You mentioned your duel with him will be in a week, right? My mana might have replenished by that point." Mari said.

Sun looked at his leg. Shuja sat next to it, trying to close it with a needle and a thread. Sun started losing large amounts of blood on the way back to the camp and had to be carried by Rock. "I need to get better soon. I need to fight that Chief so our tribe could have a safe home." Sun looked up and glanced at his mother, "And a safe place for you too."

"Thank you, but your leg comes first,"

"Agreed!" Shuja added, and the two women laughed.

Smoke and Stick stood at the entrance of the tent, watching over their brother lying on the bed. Sun's complexion mirrored that of the time he was bitten by the timber wolf months prior, and Smoke could not help but worry that Sun will not be able to fight next week. Then there was the Cheif of the enemy tribe. He didn't look particularly strong, but he looked healthier than they were as if he starved. In fact, Smoke saw the other guards standing on top of their walls look far better off than their legions. They weren't thin like they were, and the only goblin amongst their tribe that could compare to the Razin guards was Rock. He has never been thin, even when their rations decrease when Cala lockdown the tribe.

It bothered Smoke, just thinking about the enemy tribe. They didn't look like they suffered during the winter. Their walls had scratch marks, but it stood proud and tall, and it surrounded the tribe, protecting it from the outside world. But it also kept the tribe trapped inside the walls, unable to move out to hunt for food in the winter freely. Their only gate was small, unlike Lev's entrance, which was wide enough for entire hunting parties to walk side by side while carrying their game.

Then Smoke remembered Cala's order to kill the slaves and cook them. Smoke closed his eyes and forced his mind to drift somewhere else. He did not dwell on the topic any longer. For now, they have a problem they must deal with.

Sun's skin color was starting to return to its normal lively color, but his body was still too weak to move. He tried to push himself in an upright position himself, but Shuja and Mari had to help him in the end. It was beginning to be evident that Sun's current state will only make the fight longer and harder. Someone needs to step in and replace Sun if he can not recover on time. "Bro, what if you can't fight when the time comes?" Smoke asked bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Stick asked.

"I mean, what if he can't fight? Someone has to subst.i.tute."

"I don't need a subst.i.tute!" Sun yelled, "I can fight even if I have a broken leg."

"Alright, fine, you can fight. But I'm not worried about that. I'm worried that you'll just hurt yourself more."

Mari held Sun's hand, "You know I think he's right. Just in case,"

"No. I'm made a promise to someone that I will be strong enough to carry him and protect him. And I failed. But that failure made me stronger, and I showed you guys didn't I!" Sun clenched his hand, and his palm began to light up, "I don't need a subst.i.tute. Just trust me, I won't lose, no matter what."

Smoke did not push the topic any further. Sun was too adamant in his decision, like a stubborn child not willing to give up because of fear of looking weak. He left the tent without saying another word.

He walked around the camp aimlessly, trying to distract his thoughts. He stared at the sky, praying to a G.o.d, any G.o.d for the courage to watch over his brothers. But he never an answer back, just the silent wind and the laughter of children playing and calling each other by their new names. Smoke could barely recall any moment in his early life that they played like them. There were good times when they would fool around, but those times seemed far away now and barely recognizable. Maybe it's because of the weight of their burdens, or maybe it was because they were scared to show weakness. They were seen as the strongest, the smartest, and the bravest goblins in the tribe, and they are forced to uphold that image. But Smoke and his brothers don't know that yet. They only know to do their best, but Smoke thinks this best would eventually kill them.

While he was walking, he overheard a few of their legions talking about the Chief. They praised his power and the literal fire of his soul. Smoke wanted to laugh, but he couldn't because he knew the reality behind the image. He sat down on a bench watching the tribe as they gather food and water.

"Smoke!" Someone called out for him. Smoke saw his mother, Cyrus running towards him. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh, yeah!" Smoke said with a smile.

"Then you wouldn't mind walking with me? Mari couldn't walk with me because of Sun and Natasha is with Rock and his wife. And I don't want to go near, I mean, disturb them."

"Sure I'll come with you. Wait, wife?"

"That red one with the baby. Aren't they married?"

"Well," Smoke thought about it and agreed, "Yeah, they're pretty much are." Smoke extended his elbow towards Cyrus. "Nevermind, let's go out for our walk."

The mother and son took a stroll outside the camp. The cool spring winds blew through the leaves and branches, and the wet mud beneath them was slippery. Cyrus held on to Smoke's hands to avoid slipping on the mud. There were birds near they walk, gathering nesting materials and bringing them back to their trees. Occasionally they would pa.s.s huge trees with a vibrant array of flowers. It was a quiet and peaceful walk.

"Is it true your brother is going to fight the enemy Chief?" Cyrus asked.

"Yeah. On a one on one duel, no less. He hasn't even recovered from his leg injury, and Ms. Mari is still recovering her mana. I tried learning with the book she had, but I didn't know healing spells would be so difficult to use. Just healing a small scar was as taxing as using light spell for a whole day." Smoke sighed, "I don't know how she could do it."

"I guess she's just that great." She laughed.

"Yeah, I guess that explains why Sun is so strong too."

"Yeah," Cyrus stopped laughing and stared straight ahead.

"I just wish he wasn't pushing himself too much."

"What do you mean?"

"I understand he has a responsibility to help the tribe, but he is so busy worrying about power and protecting everyone that he forgot to have fun. We used to talk about new ways to fight and hunt animals. I remember Rock and Sun would arm wrestle back at the barn, and they were laughing even if they won or lose. But now Sun is carrying this burden, and" He paused.

"And?"

"He isn't himself anymore. It's no longer about winning or fighting for glory. Sun only thinks about not losing."

"Isn't winning and not losing the same thing?"

"Both the results are the same, but the mindset before, during, and after the fight are totally different. It's hard to explain, but the gist of it is that, if nothing is clouding your mind, then you can focus your attention on the fight and just the fight. If you know for certain you're going to win, then you're good. But if you worry that you will lose, that means you most definitely will lose."

"I don't really get it, but it sounds like it makes sense. Where did you hear that from?"

"From Sun. And yet he's the one that forgot his own saying. I just wish I could do something about it." Smoke looked at his hands, "Maybe I could step,"

But before Smoke could finish his sentence, Cyrus yelled out. "Oh, look over there!" Cyrus pointed at a patch of purple gra.s.s. It sparkled under the bright sunlight, and it swayed gently back and forth from the wind. Cyrus could smell the fragrance of freshly harvested honey coming from the gra.s.s.

Smoke, too, was captivated by the sweet smell and took a deep breath to take it all in, only sneeze it all back out. "Do you think we can eat it?" He said while rubbing his nose.

"No good eat! Bad for belly!" A loud deep voice came out from the shrubbery. Smoke put his hands in front of Cyrus and stood guard, but what came out was a short fat goblin that was one of the guards in charge of Bona.

"Oh, it's just you!"

"Please, no touch. Gra.s.s bad. Gra.s.s poison."

"Oh, I see. That was close."

"Aw, it smells so nice. I wonder why, though?" Cyrus wondered.

"Only h.o.r.n.y toad eat gra.s.s."

"Really?" The mother and son exclaimed.

"Yes! If eat gra.s.s, body no move. But toad ok when eat gra.s.s. Just not eat toad, only eat toad for heal."

Cyrus walked around the gra.s.s, staring at its beautiful purple leaves. "Is there any way to cure someone affected by the gra.s.s." Smoke asked while his mother is preoccupied.

"If eat gra.s.s, only cure is dry fruit look like heart crushed to small ball. hard make, take hours!"

"I see," Smoke said, "Well, thank you for the warning, and I think its almost dinner. Let's head back." Smoke turned around and gave his hand to his mother, "Let's go?"

"Yeah!" Cyrus said with a wide grin. She turned back to look at the gra.s.s one more time, and her smile grew wider and wider.

The three of them left the patch of purple gra.s.s alone, but the gra.s.s was not alone for too long. A four goblin troop arrived in the same area carrying weaved buckets behind their backs. Leading the party was Violin. She gave her goblins poles with iron hooks fitted at the tip. "Alright, guys, gather as much of this gra.s.s as possible. Put them in the bucket. And try not to touch it for too long. Who knows what could happen."

"What poison gra.s.s use for?" One of the goblins asked.

"To make our Chief's death touch. And with it, the a.s.surance of victory!" Violin raised her fist to the air, "And we will crush those arrogant and barbaric Levs for even thinking about picking a fight with our new Chief!" The other goblins cheered before going back to work. Violin sounded confident about her friend's victory, but she was worried. She doesn't know how Cossack got this so-called death touch, but she knows that if he loses, they all will suffer.

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