Wehmutstau und Sturmgesang

22. Thistle

TW: very brief mention of rape and suicide in the middle of the chapter, not graphic

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Morana kept stealing glances at the trapped goblin girl. She didn't fight her bindings, just hung in Yeosang's grip and Hongjoong's shadows, looking miserable. Her hair dangled into her face and she bit her lip, but she didn't cry over those who had fallen.

Was she so resilient? Or was she at the wrong time at the wrong place?

Morana was so curious about her. She waited until they found a suitable spot to camp for the night, not risking to catch the attention of other wandering creatures. Hongjoong weaved a dome around them, blocking them from the senses of the orcs. Only after, he allowed them to make a fire and prepare dinner.

Morana didn't understand how they would be safe when she still heard and saw the surrounding forest, but her uncles seemed confident in Hongjoong's abilities, so she didn't make the mistake of questioning him. 

While the others engaged in conversation over their food and estimated the route to the elven town, Morana peered at the corner of their camp, where the goblin girl was tied to a splintered stump of wood that crudely peered from the ground. Her head had sunken onto her chest, but she didn't beg them for food or to be let go, just glad to survive.

Morana glimpsed back at the others. No one was watching her since Hongjoong would notice as soon as someone touched his barrier.

However, the second Morana stood, thinking herself so smooth and shrouded by the shadows, San's eyes flinched over to her. She stared back, challenging him to say something. 

He didn't. 

Huffing since he would monitor her no matter what, Morana turned. She wasn't a little brat anymore. She knew to stay in the safety zone, so his constant looming unnerved her. 

She made her way over to the goblin girl. Onyx watched over her and clicked his beak at Morana in greeting. When she crouched at a safe distance, some laughter around the fire drowned out the rustle of the ground.

Fascinated, Morana took the time to study their prisoner properly. Her ears were pointed, but didn't stand tall like Morana's. They drooped at the tip, creating an adorable curve. Her messily chopped hair was a dark brown and tangled with dirt, but Morana bet it would look beautiful if washed and brushed out.

When the other girl noticed her, her eyes opened. Nervous pools of a swampy green dashed left and right to find out whether she was in danger. San's grip left dark bruises on her skin and she was spindly thin, more so than the other goblins had been. Aside from that, she didn't seem hurt. Just fatigued. Hungry.

Morana could tell she examined her back. The white streak of her hair, the horns, and the twinkle of her eyes. There was something so similar, yet so foreign, about them.

"What is your name?" Morana asked, fascinated, since the girl understood. The orcs spoke a different language than the elves; she knew that much. How did this goblin child learn when all elves were gone? The other robbers hadn't spoken, just communicating in unintelligible grunts and shrieks.

Her voice was scratchy and quiet, terrified to alert the others. No malice passed her exhausted eyes, so Morana saw no need to call for someone, either. She could handle herself.

"I don't... I don't have a name," the goblin replied, hesitant as if nervous to admit that. 

Dumbfounded, Morana stared at her.

Why not? Morana had a name since she could think. Didn't the people around her provide one?

Unsure what to do with people who had no names since she only knew people with names, Morana played down her surprise. It might be a cultural custom, after all.