Ragnar woke to the taste of dirt and the sharp sting of cold air in his lungs.
He lay on his side in a tangle of roots and fallen leaves, heart already thudding before his eyes even focused.
The forest pressed in close, dark trunks, swaying branches, wind slicing through the canopy with a low, endless howl that sounded too much like breathing.
He pushed himself up on trembling arms.
Every muscle ached as though he'd been beaten for hours. Fear crept in slowly at first, then faster, tightening his throat.
He didn't know this place. He didn't know how he got here.
All he knew was the wind wouldn't stop, and something about the size of the trees made him feel very small.
Footsteps cracked somewhere behind him, deliberate, heavy. Ragnar scrambled without thinking.
He lunged for the nearest pine, claws digging into bark, legs kicking until he hauled himself onto a low branch.
He pressed his back to the trunk and held his breath.
Below, the wolf stepped into the small clearing.
It was enormous. Bigger than any dog or bear he'd ever seen back on Earth.
Its shoulders rolled under matted gray fur, ribs visible beneath. Fresh blood dripped from its jaws and stained the white ruff under its throat.
The animal paused, lifted its head, nostrils flaring.
Ragnar's pulse roared in his ears. 'Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't, '
The wolf's yellow eyes swept upward. Locked on him.
Terror punched through his chest. 'He's going to find me. He's going to find me right now, '
A deep growl rolled out from the trees on the far side of the clearing, another predator, closer, angrier.
The wolf whipped its head around, lips peeling back. Without hesitation it bounded off toward the sound, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Ragnar let the air out of his lungs in a shaky rush. His claws were still sunk into the bark; he had to force them to release one by one.
He dropped to the ground, knees buckling. Leaves stuck to his sweating palms.
'I have to leave. Now. Before it comes back. Before the whole pack shows up.'
He took one step.
Bushes rustled directly ahead.
Ragnar froze.
A figure pushed through the branches, tall, scaled, broad-shouldered.
A kobold. Blood painted its clawed hands and streaked down its chest in dark ribbons.
The eyes, sharp, amber, found Ragnar immediately.
Ragnar took a step back. Then another.
The kobold tilted his head. "Why are you retreating, Ragnar?"
The name hit like a stone dropped into still water. Ragnar stopped moving.
A flood of images and feelings crashed over him all at once, names, faces, shame that had lived in his bones so long it felt like part of his skeleton.
He was Ragnar. The smallest in the tribe.
The one who stayed behind when the hunters left at dawn.
The one the elders sighed over. The one the young ones snickered at when they thought he couldn't hear.
And this Kobold was his brother Val that stood in front of him now, waiting, blood still wet on his scales from whatever he'd killed out there.
Ragnar's throat closed. He looked down at his own hands, smaller, softer, trembling.
He clenched them until the claws bit into his palms and warm blood welled between his fingers.
Val took a careful step closer. "You hurt?"
Ragnar forced his eyes up. He shook his head once. "I'm… okay."
Val studied him for a long moment, then gave a short nod.
"Good. Aunt has been pacing since you didn't come back last night. She's half-convinced something dragged you off."
Ragnar swallowed. The thought of her, small, fierce, always trying to feed him extra portions so he'd "grow some spine", twisted something deep in his chest.
'I can't keep doing this to her. To them. Hiding. Staying behind. Being the weak one they have to worry about.'
'I need to get stronger. I need to protect them. I can't be dead weight anymore.'
The moment the thought finished forming, a sharp chime rang inside his skull.
[First Delivery Mission Generated]
Deliver 30 Valva to the nearby Goblin Clan
Rewards:
20 Tomado
5+ Interaction Points
1 Evolution Chance
Deadline: 3 days.
Penalty: Death + war with the goblin tribe.
Ragnar's breath caught. Kobolds and goblins didn't trade.
They killed each other on sight. Everyone knew that.
The last time someone crossed into goblin territory, the tribe had spent three days burning bodies and swearing revenge.
His hands shook harder. 'They want me to walk into that? Alone? With thirty Valva, whatever those are, like some errand boy?'
He looked up at Val, who was still watching him with that quiet worry he never quite hid.
Ragnar forced his voice steady. "Come on. Let's get back. Aunt will skin us both if we keep her waiting."
Val snorted, a small puff of relief in the sound. "She'll skin me first. You're still her favorite lost pup."
Ragnar managed a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes.
He turned toward the path that suddenly felt familiar, toward the faint smell of woodsmoke and the tribe's hidden burrows.
Val walked beside him, matching his stride without comment..
Ragnar kept walking, claws flexing at his sides, the mission window still burning behind his eyes.