White Stag (PERMAFROST #1)

Chapter Seven: Birth

Chapter Seven:

Birth

I ran until the breath burned inside my lungs. The world whipped around me in streams of grey and blue and white. My eyes stung with the tears I was fighting to hold back.

I needed to leave. I needed to get out of here. I'm a monster. I'm a monster. The words echoed again and again in my head. If it wasn't natural for me to have lived this long then what if something was wrong with—something before I even lived in the Permafrost.

My father always called me his little politician. As a child I could worm my way out of any situation with whatever means necessary. He would take me to the market because I could haggle down prices and barter better than anyone he knew. If I fought against the other men I could use their words against them to make them look a fool. I noticed more than others. Being shrewd and resourceful helped me win the hunting games alongside the men and those skills served me well in the Permafrost.

Just because you're clever doesn't mean something is wrong with you. I thought as I stopped to catch my breath. Even now, I could feel the pull of the bond between Soren and I slowly bringing me back to him. My skin itched knowing that we were bound by blood; even if I scrubbed myself all the way down to the bone I would never get rid of that tainted feeling.

Anger rose through me like a wave of heat, I turned and punched a skeleton tree. My hand cracked against the bark and a shower of snow fell off the branches. I hit it again and again until my knuckles and the tree were smeared with blood. They stung like mad but they gave a release sweeter than honey.

I sunk to my knees, my head in my hands. Wandering alone in the Permafrost was suicide—even without the hundreds of goblins currently out for blood. If I managed to stay alive by myself it would be out of dumb luck, one thing I put zero stock in. And I couldn't cross the boundary without Soren crossing first; even if he did, he would still feel me. I still wasn't goblin enough for the spell he put on me to break by it's own accord. I was goblin enough for humans to notice though. A small part of me withered and died; I'd nursed the hope of escaping, of being free back in some human town far, far away. But if these men could tell I was goblin-like, others would too. Thorsten was right; they'd be on me like hounds.

So I was a monster, just like them. There was a nagging inside of me that argued that Soren had saved me. That it was the humans—the ones who were supposed to be good—that tried to kill me. I remembered the fury blazing in Soren's eyes as he attacked the men. Before I would've thought he did it because I was he property and he had to protect it; but what he said before I ran wouldn't stop bouncing around in my head. It hurt to wrap my mind around the idea Soren might have even a sliver of care for my wellbeing unlike the humans who'd marked me as tainted. Goblins weren't supposed to have mercy, care for others, that was a human trait. At the same time, picking Rekke's face, I couldn't believe that she took joy in another creature's misery.

Running away now, miles away from the Permafrost and with the Hunt in full swing would kill me. Standing, I balled my hands into fists and forced myself to breath evenly. As much as it killed me, I only had one rational choice of action. I sighed and started back, hoping I could catch up before they got too far.

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When I got back to the campsite, I was mildly surprised to see Soren and the other two goblins still there, talking among themselves. So they hadn't left me alone in the Permafrost after all.

As I stepped through the bracken, Soren caught my eye. He rose an eyebrow but said nothing.

Rekke beamed when she saw me. "See, I told you she probably got lost following that lead. You should be more careful, Janneke, what if they'd actually been here still!"