For hours, the river had been a distant murmur. Now, it was growing louder, a steady, insistent rush, pulling them forward. The sound was both a beacon and a warning, guiding them forward, but also reminding them of the unknown lying ahead.

Vikka's claws dug absently into the soft soil beneath her feet as she adjusted her stride. The kobolds had been steadily growing for days now, their bodies regaining their former stature. The forest, once a labyrinth of towering obstacles, now felt more navigable. Yet the knot of unease in her chest hadn't faded, it only twisted tighter.

Brynnal halted suddenly, holding up a hand signaling the party to stop.

A heavy mist settled around the tree trunks, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

"We're being watched." Sylven's voice cut through the hush.

Mara's hand hovered over her dagger. Brynnal shifted his stance, his fingers tightening around the haft of his spear. Vikka's eyes darted between the trees. No movement.

"Where?" Mara whispered.

Sylven didn't answer right away. His gaze had gone distant, his head tilting slightly as if hearing something beyond their reach. Uiska had sensed a large animal about to cross their path. Sylven signaled the approaching danger, and the party froze low to the ground.

A soft snort broke the silence. Following the noise led them to a donkey tethered to a low branch, half-hidden behind a cluster of brush just ahead. It pawed at the dirt and flicked its ears, but was otherwise docile.

The sight of the domesticated animal did not reassure Vikka. She lifted her nose, sniffing the air again.

Sylven, there's someone else. Vikka warned through the bond.

The Sunshy had already gone still, his body rigid, listening.

Uiska had frozen too, his whiskers twitching in tight, nervous bursts as if tasting the very air.

Not a threat. Sylven hand-signaled at last, mouthing the words for emphasis. But his brow furrowed slightly, as if still deciphering whatever message Uiska had given him.

Close. Waiting.

The signals sent a prickle of unease through the group. A tense silence followed, each member poised for action. Then came a light flurry of wind as the leaves in the canopy just above them rustled. A figure dropped and dangled from a string hooked to a tree branch, swinging around them like a pendulum.

It spoke as it circled, using the string as a tether. The voice was teasing, not threatening.

"That better be you, Mara."

The Shy-sized figure finally dropped to the ground, standing with the light behind it. Its face was shadowed, but the eyes gleamed with a familiar twinkle.

For a moment, no one moved or made a sound. Then—Mara surged forward and shouted.

"Jerrik!"

She shoved past Sylven, nearly knocking him aside. Sela and Brynnal followed at a sprint, all hesitation forgotten.

Jerrik staggered slightly as Mara caught him, her hands gripping his shoulders, his face, as if checking to see if he was real. Then her fingers stopped at the wooden spike with a hook on the end, strapped to where his missing forearm should have been.

She sucked in a breath.

Brynnal let out a curse.

"Took you long enough?" Jerrik asked impishly, he looked rough, but his smile was wide.

Alvon was trembling, his legs refusing to take a step. Then, as if something snapped, he ran. He crossed the space in a heartbeat, slamming into Jerrik, arms tight around him in a fierce embrace, breathless and shaking.

Jerrik grunted. "Shards, Al! No need to crush me."

Alvon's grip only tightened.

"Bastard," his voice cracked. "You absolute bastard."

But he didn't let go.

Garret stayed still, keeping to the cave opening, concealed just behind where the donkey was hitched.

From where he sat, his makeshift crutch dug into the dirt, his injured leg stretched stiffly in front of him. He didn't rush forward but watched quietly, patiently, letting the old friends catch up.

His eyes wandered between the Shy and the kobolds. The size contrast alone should have been absurd—the Shy, barely six inches tall, looking like a gathering of mismatched dolls compared to him, hanging out with lizard people as large as the average dog.

Trying to make sense of it all added to the stress beneath his steady stare.

"Is that all of them?" he asked tentatively, when Jerrik came back to check on him at last.

Jerrik nodded. "Seems so, plus some fresh faces."

Garret's eyes narrowed. "And a few kobolds too."

Sylven and Mara soon followed behind Jerrik, aiming to break the ice with the tall human.

"You must be Wyatt's father," Sylven said in human speech. "I have to say, you raised a brave, smart, and kind young man."

Garret leaned on his crutch as he bent over to take a better look at their guests.

"You're new," he remarked, in a voice rough from lack of use, but considerately soft enough not to blast the Shy's ears.

"Sharp observation," Sylven replied, sensing the tension. "I see the resemblance… and from where he learned his social skills."

Garret's expression remained wary. "So I reckon… you're either just the guy they needed to get them out at just the right time… or you've led the overseer's goons right to us."

Sylven crossed his arms. "I'm pretty sure we covered our tracks."

Garret's shook his head. "Pretty sure isn't good enough."

Jerrik rolled his eyes. "Relax, Garret. If they weren't careful, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Garret's frown didn't ease, his grip on his crutch tightening.

"And them?" Garret turned toward Vikka and the kobolds.

Jerrik answered immediately. "Not enemies."

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Vikka studied the interaction between the human and the Shy. She couldn't tell how they were getting along, whether to tell her kin to relax or ready their claws.

Garret's stare lingered over the Shy's strange new party-mates, gravitating towards their obvious leader.

She met his gaze without flinching.

He seemed to try reading her expression, despite their differences in facial structure and movements. Then—he nodded.

"Good enough for me."

The party followed the odd couple of human and Shy into their sanctuary. As the night pressed in, they built a bonfire to warm the cavernous space, dank with the scent of river water and charred wood.

Jerrik stretched the fingers of his remaining hand absently, staring into the embers.

"We got out of Greyhold, but as you can see, definitely not in one piece, or even two pieces."

Mara's eyes crept toward his missing forearm.

"Griff caught me as I made a break for the door," Jerrik muttered, his voice growing husky. "His grip felt like… like getting stuck in a machine. He grabbed me by the arm. I tried to squirm out of his grasp and pull away, but he held on. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and my arm was still in his damn fingers."

Mara winced.

Jerrik paused, flexing the fingers of his remaining hand. "I didn't even feel it at first. Just saw the bone poking out. Blood everywhere. And then Garret grabbed me and ran. He kept pressure on my arm, kept me alive. Jacked the donkey from the stables so we could get away."

Garret shrugged. "Didn't have much of a choice," he huffed.

Jerrik laughed. "You keep saying that, but you didn't have to steal Gertie."

"Who's Gertie?" Callan asked, rejoining the other adult Shy after helping Niva and Eryl tuck the kids into their bedrolls in a cozy corner of Jerrik and Garret's camp.

"The donkey, the real hero of this story," Jerrik quipped.

"I just wanted to get out of there and find help," Garret shook his head. "When Griff went down, I wasn't sure he'd get up again. Either way, I didn't want to find out. Didn't want to risk running into Ruth either. Who knows what they'd have done to us if we hadn't slipped out when we could."

Alvon, still watching Jerrik, whispered. "We all thought you were dead."

Jerrik gave him a lopsided grin. "I know. But by that point, I'd rather be dead than back in Griff's hands."

"Wait," Mara raised a hand. "You thought you killed Griff? Or at least knocked him out?"

Garret nodded. "He smashed my leg with an iron poker. But I was able to grab it and wrest it away from him."

"Then I helped bring the bastard down by tripping him with a couple ball bearings," Jerrik beamed proudly.

"He sure did," Garret continued pensively. "I… I don't know what came over me, but as he lay there I brought the poker down on his head… hard. I remember his eyes rolling up and… it looked like he stopped breathing…"

"If it makes a difference," Mara explained. "We haven't seen or heard Griff since that day. They brought Wyatt in to take over looking after us a few days later."

The fire crackled as they all paused for silence.

Garret nodded. "Good. I was hoping that would happen."

"Then you rode the donkey to a healer?" Sylven asked.

"Tried to, but… we had no time. He kept losing blood. I didn't have any bandages or medicine," the human explained.

"Just fire," Jerrik interjected.

Vikka felt the air change.

Mara swallowed. "You...?"

"Used a lamp," Garret confirmed. "Held his arm to the flame 'til the stump sealed up."

The group stilled. No one spoke.

Jerrik flexed his remaining fingers. "Did the trick."

Garret grunted. "Barely."

The maimed Sunshy survivor just chuckled. "Better than bleeding out for sure."

Alvon closed his eyes. "By the caldera…" he gasped.

Jerrik continued. "After we stopped by Garret's home to warn his wife and son, the donkey took us down the main human trail skirting the Veilwoods. It's a miracle he somehow missed any of the patrols. We were both mostly delirious then, I don't remember much of anything until waking up near this spot by the river."

Mara raised up a strip of bark, with a rough carving giving directions. "You left these?"

Jerrik nodded, absently rubbing his wrist. "Not on the way. It took me a while before I could backtrack."

He exhaled, looking into the fire.

"So when did you start leaving the Shy signs?" Sylven asked.

Jerrik crossed his arms. "When? After I could walk straight again, put together this hook for my stump, and got strong enough to work with it."

Garret grunted from where he sat, adjusting his splint. "That took longer than you'd think."

Jerrik shot him a look before continuing.

"I wasn't sure if we could even survive traversing the Veilwoods," his fingers tapped absently against his knee. "Then I found something that helped."

He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a rough arclith shard. Despite its raw state, it still caught the firelight, glimmering faintly.

Sylven's eyes widened at the shard. "Where did you get that?"

Jerrik turned the shard between his fingers. "Greystone River, well that's what the humans call it. When I walked along it, there was a point where I sensed the arclith half-buried on the bank."

Mara's brows furrowed. "You swam in the river?"

Jerrik shook his head. "Just waded in the shallow part, and not all the way. Greystone's too damn wide and fast. Not worth the risk with one arm." He rolled his shoulder. "But I followed the water for a distance, hoping I'd find something useful downstream."

He tapped the arclith against his knuckles. "Didn't expect this."

Sylven frowned. "A random shard just lying in the dirt?"

"Didn't feel too random," Jerrik stated thoughtfully. "Thing barely glowed, but even weak, it was enough. And I have a feeling there may be more along the river. Was just about to go searching again before you lot showed up."

He clenched his fingers around it. "Blur. Jump. Basic cantrips, but enough to get me across the Veilwoods faster a few times. Enough to mark the trail without getting caught by predators."

"By then, I started marking a path through the forest—in case we had to navigate back, or any of you made it out. Kept leaving signs while plotting a safe route to the compound." His fingers tapped against his knee, restless. "Spent the past couple months edging closer, trying to figure out how to help you lot escape."

Alvon studied Jerrik intently. "When did you make your last mark?"

"The one nearest the compound? A few weeks ago I think?"

"You were so close, and we had no idea," Alvon shook his head.

Brynnal finally spoke up. "You were trying to come back for us."

Jerrik shrugged. "After everything we've been through, I would never think of leaving you there."

He stood up and called out in a more jovial tone. "Come on! Let's enjoy a big Sunshy dinner together before I tell you more about things we've discovered. Don't worry about having enough food. Garret always prepares way more than enough for both of us, a few dozen Shy won't make a dent. Not sure what your new friends will be happy eating, but they'll want to hear the rest of our tale."

The bonfire's flames danced, its light flickering across the faces of the group. Jerrik's fingers drummed absently against his wooden arm-spike. His gaze darted between the flickering fire and the familiar faces around him, now looking more relaxed after a filling meal of wild turnips and river fish.

He knew how this was going to sound, but said it anyway.

"There's something I've left out," he began. "We weren't alone out here."

Jerrik exhaled, rolling his remaining wrist in slow, absent circles, like he was working out a knot in his thoughts.

"We'd been out here for... I don't know. Around a week? We weren't counting."

"You were resting," Garret interjected. "I was trying to lie low."

Jerrik playfully poked the human's leg with his hook, but didn't argue.

"I was out of it a lot. Infection hit me hard. Also wasn't sure if I'd wake up one morning and find Garret decided to finish the job for me."

Garret snorted. "Trust me, I thought about it."

"Fair," sighed Jerrik.

"How did you survive?" Alvon pressed.

Jerrik leaned forward, resting his elbow stump on his knee.

"That's the thing," he looked up at Garret. "We had help."

"From kobolds," the human stated.

Vikka's claws twitched, that was one word she understood all too clearly. It hung in the air—like a dropped stone waiting to hit the bottom of a deep, dark well. The fire popped, a spark snapping against the damp wood. The other kobolds began thumping their tails, sensing Vikka's unease, but she said nothing.

"Two adults. A male and a female. And… a young one. Not much bigger than a hatchling, if I had to guess." Jerrik's brows furrowed, as if he still didn't quite believe what he had seen.

"They never came too close. Never spoke to us. But they came through for us when we needed help the most."

Sela exchanged a look with Mara and Sylven. "Scouts from the hive?"

"No, not scouts," Jerrik shook his head, rubbing his palm over his face. "Just... a family."

After Sylven helped clarify Jerrik's account, Vikka felt the weight of his story hit her. Not hunters, nor a scouting party from the hive, any hive. Just three kobolds living out here in the Veilwoods, far from everyone who would wish to control them, be they kobold queens or human overseers.

What even was a family? She glanced at her own group—Tibbin, Nynka, Sidhe, Rena, Tesska. She guessed they were her family now, in a way. Not just bound by blood or tribe, but by something deeper. And yet, the idea of another kobold family out here, surviving on their own, stirred something in her chest. Hope and purpose.

Ask him more about the kobolds... Vikka requested Sylven to translate for her.

Jerrik turned to the kobolds, gesturing with his hand and hook to describe how the kobold family kept them alive.

"They did their best to help us survive, in their own way," he explained "While we were too weak to hunt or forage, they left us some food. Even if there was stuff we sometimes couldn't eat."

"We'd wake up and find fresh herbs in a pile at the edge of our camp," Garret continued. "I had no idea that they could be used as medicine if prepared a certain way, until Jerrik taught me. They were never near enough for us to see them too well, but we're sure they were… like these guys."

Vikka nodded slowly, her mind racing. The Veilwoods were vast, and if there were other kobolds out here, living free, then maybe... Maybe there was a future for her kind beyond the hives, beyond the endless cycle of egg laying and rearing hatchlings under the claws of a queen.

The fire dimmed to glowing embers as the night stretched on. The party settled in the safety of the cave, the sounds of the river and its creatures muffling their merrymaking, finally ending in their most restful sleep since they began preparing for their escape.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.