The fleeing wolf set off every alarm the Stonebiter clan had set. It wasn't long before a half dozen pint-sized figures with large ears came bounding from the mouth of the nearby cave. They slung arrows and profanity in every direction, hoping to scare away whatever set off the alarms. Thok stepped aside as two wild arrows landed in the dead wolf at his feet.

  Another three landed a bit closer to the goblin than he was comfortable with, and he leaped back, landing gracefully. "YOU MISS!!" the figures loudly mocked the archer who was nocking another arrow.

  Loose.

  Thok followed the arrow as it spiraled through the air and landed in the second wolf. While the figures leaped and cheered, the archer nocked another arrow.

  Loose.

  Thok watched it sail higher and higher, but lost it in the setting sun's glint. The moment it came into view, he realized that it was meant for him. He barely had time to react before it landed in the shadow at his feet. Had he not moved, it would have landed between his eyes.

  "I AM STONEBITER!" he cried. The archer loosed another arrow and a reply: "Whaaaaaat?" The arrow fell well short and far left. The figures gathered close together before spreading quickly apart. Two ran for the mouth of the cave to tell the clan, two sprinted off into the forest to Thok's left, and two stayed with the bow at the ready.

  Something felt wrong. Thok knew it the second they melted into the forest. They had hidden themselves from him through cloaking, a special trait his clan alone used to hide from larger predators in the area. It was beneficial for camouflage, but it had one weakness.

  The cloaking dropped with the exhale from the goblin who held a makeshift spear to his throat. Another spear tip poked the back of Thok's head, marking the second's arrival. "You not Stonebiter. You smell different," growled the front goblin.

  Thok held his breath briefly, activating his cloak. The points stayed high. "You are playing trick. We stab." The second spoke up.

  "You come to Bigbite. He boss. Very lucky we kill." The dim-minded goblin kicked the very dead wolf. A poke to the back when the first stepped aside alerted Thok that it was time to move. They take credit for my kills, my honor, my food!" The anger rippled across Thok's face.

  The veins in his head bulged, and the tips of his ears turned a light pink. Each step toward the cave's inlet heightened his discomfort. The goblins gathered their archer companions while a squad of gatherers sprinted past.

  Not far behind followed the two that had run inside; they gave chase, lashing the air and calling for the gatherers to move faster. For the gobs, being low-born meant abuse at the hands of the Hobs, the worst jobs, and almost no food. All thanks to Bigbite.

  Thok knew Bigbite well. He was the largest, most hateful of all hobgoblins. He was stupid and cruel, but mostly just stupid. His massive frame and bulging muscles made him a formidable opponent. However, his malformed, tainted mind offered little in the way of governance.

  In his stead, his right hand ruled the clan, using Bigbite as a weapon against anyone who disagreed with the sneaky Shaman. Thok relived a memory of the dimwitted leader being tricked into squashing his own brother for speaking ill of Tusk.

  What little warmth the setting sun offered was instantly sapped from the goblin's small form when he entered the cave's shadow. His nose turned up with a mind of its own at the smell that accosted him with wave after wave of decaying refuse and full chamber pots.

  He had passed through this cave dozens of times in his duties as a professional outcast, yet not once had he noticed how awful his home smelled. Thok passed the half-skeletonized remains of a goblin just outside the "throne room."

  To call it such a place is an affront to royalty of the highest order. A place where Bigbite and his underlings held feasts and counted meaningless shiny coins they would never have need for. The kind of place where a goblin was more likely to join the pile than bend an ear. The entryway to the throne room had two burly guard Hobs, sitting opposite each other and staring into the oncoming crowd of goblinoids.

  The gob that took Thok captive spoke through a cracking, fearful voice: "We kill two wolves and find outsider. He claim Stonebiter but smell very bad." The Hob on the right tightened his face into a look of malice and bared his enlarged canines.

  "Outsider." The title crossed the Hob's lips, dripping with venom. He looked Thok up and down slowly before leaning in and sniffing deeply. He pulled away quickly, holding his nose. "STINK!"

  The second smirked at his partner, and a few of the goblins chuckled. Hearing their laughter sent the Hob into a rage that he took out on the closest goblin. Grabbing a still-laughing gob by his head, he flung him hard into a wall with a sick, wet splat. The laughing stopped for everyone but the Hobs, who both began to belly-laugh at the noise the little green body made on impact.

  Many gobs went invisible and scattered. Only two remained: the one who spoke and Thok. This delighted the two large Hobs, who turned their undivided attention to the goblin in front of Thok. He quaked but did not run; he barely flickered with fear.

  This goblin had many scars and seemed to be twice Thok's age—a special thing for most of the Stonebiter clan. His large left ear seemed to be missing a bite; his hair was matted down with many crow feathers encrusted. Thok knew this goblin.

  This was Farsee the scout. His tales around the campfire inspired fear and awe in young and old gob alike. Here he stood, the highest honored of all goblins in the clan. Yet in the shadow of the two looming Hobs, he didn't measure much more than their waistband.

  Farsee swallowed hard and repeated his report before carefully stepping away, leaving Thok to face the two mountains of muscle alone. They both inhaled his scent and paused. "Outsider. Not outsider. It stink. Go Bigbite."

  The order was given as the two pushed aside two large, filthy, tattered animal skins that acted as a door to the throne room. The smell almost took Thok from his feet. The moment he walked into the throne room, the stench of decaying meat and rotting fruit permeated the air.

  He was knocked to his knees and pressed his hands into the slurry of writhing rot to keep from falling face-first. A voice boomed behind him: "Bigbite! Outsider! Not outsider! Two dead wolves!" The sound of the flaps closing made the dark room feel as if it were shrinking around the disoriented gob.

  The quiet flickering of fire was the only noise for long moments. The quiet was shattered by the sound of dozens of bones breaking, popping under the weight of Bigbite as he adjusted his massive form. A pair of large red eyes peered from around a gigantic pile of rotting food mounded in front of a shabby, rotting chair that may at one point have belonged to a noble of a very, very, very low house.

  Bigbite's gaze dropped behind the pile of spoils, and the sound of eating filled the chamber. The slapping of his massive mouth made Thok's spine twitch; he held his breath purely on instinct. The moment he flickered, there was a noise—it was like thunder but muffled.

  The next thing the fading goblin felt was a massive foot landing hard on his back, pressing him into the floor. He felt his held breath burst from his mouth in a squealing whine. He thought at that time his lungs might have come spewing from his mouth under the weight being brought down on him.

  The thoughts of escape flattened onto the ground with him under Bigbite's enormous foot. Thok's arms and legs sprawled flat onto the slop-coated cave floor; every moment his mouth screamed for air but found only pain and ichor. The world began to fade just as a voice called from the corner of the room: "Bigbite, Tusk needs that one."

  Never in Thok's life had he been so happy to hear a Hob's voice. His small, ragged body was lifted from the gruel and hoisted high off the ground before being shaken roughly back and forth to clean him. A massive nose turned up after a deep sniff.

  "Outsider, not outsider, not food." With that, Thok found himself falling hard into soup again before being grabbed by another smaller set of hands. Softer but not by much, they picked him up under his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Thok's mind flicked back and forth between consciousness and sleep with every step before fading all the way into sleep.