Taking the Dirt Inside
"Many of us believe that there is no magic that can heal one's wounds," The wolf utters while continuing to watch the radiating light gyrating on his relative's limbs. "Yet a mere goblin had accomplished that mystery."
"I did nothing much. Your sister wanted to live, and I took that life from her and gave it back again."
"You are humble, green sprite. May our loyalty serve you well,"
"Don't thank me just yet, pooch,"
I wipe my cold sweat and remain focused on gathering the arcane residuals inside my core.
"We still have a long way to go to save your daughter,"
"Sister," The wolf stood corrected while baring his fangs over my direction, angered from what I have said. "I forgive you for that."
I did not mind his intimidation as we progressed, clotting out the naked skin with its torn muscle ligaments. The scene was a bloodfest in our eyes, with the fountain of blood oozing upwards as my magic makes its way inside.
My knowledge from my previous world serves me handsomely for this event. We can witness our development from the epidermis regenerating back to its old form.
'Now I need to find a fabric long enough to cover the scrape,' I utter to myself while scanning my environment filled with nothing but shrubs and trees.
Unluckily, I cannot find anything that I can use to protect the puncture. I do not want to risk the animal's life and grab any broad leaves that I can discover, then dump them in on the surface. We are unsure about their efficacy and safety because some trees might have toxins, especially when inside a different world.
"Here, I have something that may help you," The young Elven guard squeezes himself near me and shows a napkin made with wool from the village's barn.
"Thanks. This fabric is a great help." Like a mind-reader who has entered my head, the serviceman offers me the smeared tissue without spouting another word.
I acknowledged his gesture and took the cloth away from his hand. It makes me feel at ease, knowing that I have something to shield the wound.
I conjure once more my water skill and filter the dirt-stained on the rag. The purpose of my actions is to eliminate any risk for infection that can bring more harm to the wolf rather than healing its body.
While waiting for the dog to recover, the elf by my side stood up and surveyed his partner, running from afar with Elanor. The king has already prepared his quiver and recurve and aimed directly at the Alpha wolf, assuming that it was our enemy.
At the moment's spur, I rush over and extend my arms to shield the injured canine. I do not want to get hurt, but I cannot leave these hounds to die alone. After all, I massacred their kin, making it my responsibility to take care of these isolated dogs.
"Stand back, Lake," Elanor warns and motions his head for me to move away from the creatures. "I need to take them down, and I don't want to hurt you."
He deems these beings as wretched monsters who know nothing but trample the crops and destroy villages. I cannot blame him for his thoughts because some are hostile against individuals and will do everything they can to fill their bellies with nourishment. It empowers these ideas with the game-like description that I have carried on upon living in this world.
However, I cannot bring myself to slaughter more of them out of pity or despair. I know the sentiments of losing a life, especially a close, blood-relative.
"They are innocent," I unflinchingly pronounced while returning the gaze to Elanor's eyes.
The guard right beside him aims his arrow at the weakened animal but gets immediately stopped by the old elf, telling him everything would be fine.
I lower my stretch, hoping that their sceptics have not gotten the best of them. But I did not lower my guard as I was still wary about their intentions.
"They are kind animals, Elanor, and I can assure you that." I pleaded while moving close to the wolves, protecting them with my prepared magic circles with an emergency.
"I believe you, Lake. Be at ease, goblin."
"Thank you, your majesty."
"Enough with the pleasantries," His voice brings out the confidence befitting for his status, commanding me to describe the story I have told.
"Goblin, who are these elves?" The Alpha wolf asks while gritting his teeth, ready to pounce off his post despite his bruise on his head.
"They are my friends," I responded while stroking his silver head cladded with silver fur. "They are here to help you too."
"I see," The wolf, tamed by my kindness, closes his eyes and sinks himself into his dreams, exhausted from the battle that we had before.
"Then, I will leave Imra to your care, Goblin." The hound utters while, at long last, recovers his fatigue.
______________________________________________
"Care to explain these dire wolves, Lake White?" Elanor and Bill simultaneously catechise me while pointing at the two canines silently slumbering on the settee.
When adults call someone's full name, you'll know that things have gotten worse and vital. That's what I feel as I get interrogated by all the officials inside the rummaged tavern.
"In the forest, a pack of wolves appeared in front of us. They struck at us first, but eventually failed and-,"
"And?" Elanor repeats my phrase, allowing me to resume from where I had paused my sentence.
"I, uh," I stutter once again, this time having to bite my lip from the embarrassment that I feel while getting exposed and surrounded by the people that I know.
I take a deep breath and gather my courage, not because I am afraid, but I feel that my explanation was an excuse.
"They are adorable puppies, and I regret killing them," I announced while shyly averting my gaze, hoping that they would buy my story.
But, the truth is, I can never tell them I had a family that I am looking for right now. It is hard to disclose any information about my previous self and this life as a goblin. All they know is that I am Lake Turner, a talented, hideous creature that has an intellect of a human.
My second reason is as follows. These two mutts are incredibly endearing to my preference that I cannot refrain from abandoning them in the dim jungle. I already killed their members, so this is a price that I have to pay for my sins.
"So, what are you going to do when they turn berserk and seek revenge for killing their family?" Elanor sits on the craggy chair and spreads the make-shift map on the board, trying to resume the meeting they have started.
"Then I will kill them myself," I evenly spoke while I survey the room, with my eyes piercing the globes of everyone staring at my figure. "I already murdered six of their kind. Having to kill another pair is nothing compared to what I have done."
"Well said, goblin," Elanor compliments while signalling me to come by his side and inspect the prepared diagrammatic representation laid before us. "I confide myself in your words. But, for now, please review this map and, if you may, append any insights you want to discuss."
"Let's see what I can do," I hopped on the corner of the table and spectate the moving objects and legends that the rest of the generals are devising.
The hours passed by like a blur as we converse the various tactics that we can consider applying in our forces. Our enemies outnumber us heavily about a thousand monsters against hundreds of us villagers. Although our powers are beyond those critters, we can still be bone-weary if the war prolonged for days or, even worse, for a week.
The plans that we had from before-such as the traps and training sessions-are long overdue. Even the mithril that we assembled and gathered is useless in front of the ticking time bomb approaching near the mountains. If we could ever make use of these materials, the blades will still not be enough to cater to all of our brave warriors to battle.
"If we are going to fight them, then taking them head-on is a suicidal act," my orbs skim the battlefield, hopelessly finding a hole inside the uncracked carapace.
"We can probably ambush them from afar before they can even arrive at our village. Bombarding the monsters with our arrows and spells should weaken their numbers,"
"Elanor and I had already talked about that. But there is a problematic matter for that plan to be successful," Bill adds more figurines that have an identical shape of the letter V made of clay.
"What's that supposed to be?" I raise my brow, speculative about the stone-shaped frame.
"It is a bird," Bill calmly answered, without a hint of regret and embarrassment filling his eyes. "I know a bird when I see one. What you are seeing is a bird. I mean, look at it; this is its wings."
The old-man tries proving his point by flapping the stiffed dirt, but only to end up his work getting crushed by the force he had applied.