So this was where the Skate Goats lived.

  The forest opened up to a large clearing. And the once bumpy soil smoothed out to a slightly less teeth-rattling dirt as if the area had been naturally worn down from years of constant Skate Goat abuse.

  Within the clearing were multiple wooden ramps of various shapes and sizes—some steep and narrow, others wide or gently curved. Skate Goats rode around the area on their wooden skateboards, wheels rattling as they went up and down those ramps, performing tricks that Colby couldn’t name.

  A few grinded their boards along curbs and poles constructed out of wood. Others dipped into some weird peanut-shaped bowl only to burst back out moments later, spinning through the air before diving back in.

  Standing by the side of one of the ramps was the Skate Goat that he had helped—the one who owed him milk for repairing its skateboard. It was obvious, because that was the only skateboard with whitish-yellow wheels instead of four brown wooden ones.

  That scamming Skate Goat was in front of some of its peers, angling its skateboard up to show off its cheesy wheels. The other Skate Goats bleated in admiration as they leaned in close, observing the wheels/

  “Hey, you!” Colby shouted. “You owe me milk!”

  Thornelius barked, pulling him closer, before skidding to a stop right in front of that scamming Skate Goat.

  But just because Thornelius had stopped pulling didn’t mean he’d miraculously come to a halt as well.

  He also didn’t know how to break.

  Colby screamed.

  The Skate Goats in front of him screamed. They kicked back on their skateboards, clearing a way for him.

  Colby screamed even louder, arms flailing as he tried to figure out how to stop. It was too late.

  He crashed into the wooden ramp. He slumped to the ground as he groaned.

  Everything hurt—most of all, his pride.

  Thornelius walked up to him, licking his face as he let out a soft whimper.

  “No, Thornelius. I am not okay,” Colby said.

  The Skate Goat he had helped, slowly rolled up to him. It placed a hoof on the ground, stabilizing itself before bending down and nudging his arm with its horned helmet.

  “You,” Colby slurred, pointing a limp finger at the cause of all of his current pain. “Where’s my milk?”

  The other Skate Goats that had been admiring the cheese wheels bleated. Colby flopped his head to the other side, looking at those no-good Skate Goats who were interrupting him when he was rightfully claiming compensation for all the work he had done.

  Though all Skate Goats pretty much looked the same to him, he recognized them—some of them. Their eyes were bloodshot, as if they had been recently doused in sour LeMonkey juice.

  “You,” he slurred again, crossing his arms and pointing a drooping finger at the ungrateful Skate Goats. “Where’s my milk, too? I saved you, and you ran away? You owe me double milk, now.”

  Colby opened up his Inventory and let his hand flop into the glowing screen. When he pulled his hand out, the empty glass bottle slipped from his fingers and started rolling across the ground.

  He pointed at the bottle and slurred, “Milk me, now. Or else.”

  It wasn’t the most intimidating threat, especially since he was a bit out of it and he was currently lying on the floor. But maybe in Skate Goat culture, these were the most effective types of threats.

  The Skate Goats let out soft bleats and short snorts as they discussed amongst themselves. They then raised their heads to the clouds and screamed. It was so loud, so ear-piercing, so booming, Colby swore that it was about to roll into the deafening range.

  And if he did go deaf, it meant that he was owed even more milk as compensation.

  Off in the distance, a scream, not as loud, echoed out.

  Then silence.

  Colby could no longer hear the sounds of wheels shredding or goats bleating.

  Either he had truly gone deaf, or something else was afoot.

  “Thornelius! What’s going on?”

  Well, he could still hear his own voice. Either that or his brain was so good at filling in the blanks that it had started hallucinating his voice for him.

  The Thornwolf sprinted behind him. Colby could feel Thornelius’s bushy nose against the nape of his neck as the Thornwolf bit the collar of his shirt and started dragging him.

  Colby was much too exhausted to fight back, so he just went with the flow.

  Thornelius was surprisingly strong for being so small—not like there was anything wrong with being small. And no, he was not small. He was average.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Whatever the case, Thornelius showcased strength that he wasn’t expecting, slowly dragging him across the ground, so that he could see past the wooden ramp that he had used as an unconventional means of stopping his momentum.

  Looking past the ramp, Colby realized why he couldn’t hear wooden wheels shredding on the ground. The Skate Goats had stopped skating. They didn’t randomly stop in place either. The Skate Goats either stood at the top of the ramps or at the edge of bowls as they rested a single hoof on the ground. Their heads were turned, all facing the same thing, a large ramp—by far the largest ramp—at the center of the area.

  Colby squinted. Not at the ramp, but even back.

  The clearing extended beyond that large ramp. Past it lay a large open gap, rows of trees towering like fences, but never intruding. On the other side rose a massive ramp—correction, that was by far the largest ramp, not the earlier one. It curved directly up towards a sheer cliff that must’ve been six or even seven stories high. And at the very top of that cliff, barely visible, was a single little dot.

  The Skate Goats screamed before they started pounding the grounds with their hooves.

  The dot in the distance screamed back before it started to move.

  It plunged down the steep ramp, instantly picking up speed, and blurring into a white streak that vanished behind the curve of the ramp.

  Silence descended around the clearing.

  Something rocketed out from the lip of the ramp, launching high into the air and soaring across the gap.

  It was a Skate Goat—go figure.

  That Skate Goat performed a flip before landing on the smaller—but still very large—quarterpipe ramp.

  It bent down, picking up more speed before shooting up the ramp. Then, it started to spin.

  One spin. Two spins. Three spins. Then four. Gravity finally decided to pay the Skate Goat a little visit, as it came back down, skidding to a stop in the middle of the ramp.

  The other Skate Goats erupted with screams. They pounded their hooves at a volume that rivalled a stampede. Colby could feel the vibrations travel into his body as his ears cried for mercy.

  Despite being sore everywhere, he found the strength to shield his ears with his hands. Though it barely helped.

  Even worse, the noise was too much for Thornelius and his sensitive ears. He whimpered in pain before running around to Colby’s front, digging his bushy head into his chest.

  “Don’t worry, boy. I’ve got you.”

  Thornelius was more important than his hearing.

  The Thornwolf went under Colby’s shirt, burying his bushy head into his chest. Colby unstuck his hands from his ears and brought them over Thornelius’s head, squeezing the cheesy helmet that protected him.

  As sudden as it started, the cacophony ended—either that or Colby had truly gone deaf.

  That Skate Goat rolled off the large ramp, slowly coasting over to him.

  This Skate Goat was different. Just like the other Skate Goats, its horns curled upwards around its skull, forming a protective helmet, but that wasn’t the end of its helmet.

  Rather than stopping in a smooth a black dome, the horn continued. At the back of its head extended a rigid brim, like the Skate Goat was wearing a cap backwards.

  That Skate Goat skidded to a stop in front of him, before kicking its head up to the other Skate Goats surrounding him. In turn, they let out a chorus of snorts, shook their heads, and low bleats.

  That must’ve been the leader of the Skate Goats.

  Who else could pull off such rad tricks?

  Also, it sounded like he wasn’t deaf.

  Colby angled his ears towards the Skate Goats, eavesdropping on their conversation. He had no idea what they were talking about, but it had better be about the milk he was owed.

  The Skate Goat, whose skateboard he had repaired, hopped off the skateboard and stomped hard on the tail of the board. The Skate Goat held the nose of the board with a hoof, showing off the [Wheels of Cheese] that had been installed. The other Skate Goats—those with red, bloodshot eyes—leaned closer to the head Skate Goat, showing off how the LeMonkeys had desecrated them.

  Yes! This was it! He could feel it!

  His milk was coming—either that or pain was taking on a new flavor.

  The head Skate Goat screamed as it slowly coasted up to him, stopping right at his feet. Thornelius shivered once more within his shirt, burrowing his head deeper into his chest.

  Colby looked up at the backward cap-wearing Skate Goat, slurring out the words, “Milk. Now.”

  The Skate Goat, whose skateboard he had fixed, grabbed the bottle that had been rolling around on the ground before gliding to the center of the clearing.

  What the feta was it doing? It better not be stealing his bottles now.

  The Skate Goat placed it on the ground and backed off. Once it was a couple of feet away, it kicked off, riding towards the bottle.

  Great. Now it was breaking his bottles?

  Just before the Skate Goat struck the bottle, it bent its knees and soared over it. As the skateboard spun beneath its hooves, a shot of white liquid sprayed out, splashing into the glass bottle.

  Gross. But milk was milk.

  And one bottle wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough, especially with all the resources he had expended in what was supposed to be a quick milk harvest.

  Colby stuck his hand into his Inventory, pulling out more and more empty glass bottles.

  The head Skate Goat screamed, and Thornelius whimpered even louder.

  Other Skate Goats descended down the ramp, moving towards him. Whether intentionally or not, they lined up. As they skated past him, they grabbed an empty bottle with their mouths before moving over to the middle of the clearing.

  Another line of Skate Goats had formed. They waited for the empty bottle to be placed down before rushing towards it. Their wooden skateboards spun under their hooves as a squirt of white liquid entered the glass bottle.

  A third line of Skate Goats grabbed the filled bottle, dropping it in front of Colby, and the cycle continued.

  Once the bottles were filled and safely back in his Inventory, the head Skate Goat screamed. It kicked off, skating back to the huge ramp at the top of the cliff.

  The other Skate Goats dispersed, going back to shredding their boards in the clearing. Meanwhile, the Skate Goat, whose skateboard he had repaired, slowly rolled towards him. Stopping, it lifted up a hoof to him.

  “What?” Colby asked.

  It shook its hoof, pointing at his hand, still clutching Thornelius.

  “Fine,” Colby said.

  He weakly raised his hand, curling his fingers into a loose fist and bumping it against the Skate Goat’s hoof. It happily bleated before pushing off, rolling away to rejoin its companions, proudly showing off its [Wheels of Cheese].

  Thornelius barked, licking his chest.

  “I know, boy. I know. We finally got the Skate Goat milk. Now we can make a cheese combination Mom hasn’t come up with. Something good enough to actually be sold in the shop.”