After much persistence, 'he' managed for the first time to throw one of the sharpened sticks. The projectile did not go far and did not make any kind of hole in the wall that was its target. The goblin hadn't even hit the spot where he intended, but just the fact that he was able to perform that action was an achievement.
The second time only came after dozens of failed attempts. Having achieved it before didn't guarantee that the feat would be repeated easily, and it really didn't.
For every successful shot, many failed. If the monster possessed the ability to count, it would feel ashamed of its own lack of mastery. His incapacity fortunately protected him from that feeling, although he wasn't able to deprive him of the frustration.
His routine became, basically, to engage in that tough task until he reached his limit. After that, he would occupy himself with other things and only the next day would he return to his training with that strange human weapon.
There was no rush, as the weird vine wouldn't suddenly disappear. Few beings in that region of dark water would be able to devour the enemy, which did not mean that those with the strength to fulfill such a goal were rare. Soon, 'he' would be one of those monsters.
The human object was not enough, it needed more to maintain its intention of killing the vine that says 'ssssss'. If he faced such a creature, he would need to find a way to dodge its attacks and still run away if he needed to. The enemy was large enough to reach its prey from the branches and was also a remarkable swimmer.
'He' would have to improve his movements in the water and in the trees, a purpose as impossible for him as using the human weapon. The same supernatural effort placed in the first mission would have to be deposited in the others.
Water was the first obstacle to be overcome, truth be told, a very big obstacle. His race was made to remain on earth, most of the time within it. getting wet was not something they were attracted to, traveling on water like other monsters was an action that no goblin knew how to do.
'He' would try to be first.
would try.
In the morning there was the unfortunate little creature in the running water. He never knew where it came from, only that it came from the west where the mountains were and made its way through the forest disappearing into the southeast beyond. It was thick, difficult to cross, whoever wanted to pass it would have to do it over the top through the trees, jumping over the stones found in some stretches and of course, crossing inside.
'He' chose a not too thick part of the running water, just in case he had to desperately get back to the edge.
Only fear prevented him from continuing. That feeling was the first to be learned in the life of a goblin, the main companion of all those born in that hell. He must fear, fear his equals, the unknown, the world. Weakness is a sin and there is always something stronger than you.
Fear was what allowed the weak to live from day to day. That emotion screamed in the goblins' pointed ears, remembering how what he was going to do went against all his instincts.
For the first time, he ignored his faithful companion and having his chest full of something he didn't understand, he jumped into the running water. 'He' immediately regretted it.
Floating like animals in the water seemed easy, but it wasn't. His body sank and no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't come back up. It was too deep for someone so small, he desperately flailed his arms, kicked the ground, did everything he could trying to push himself up.
He was being driven, there was no way he could stand still, not against this rabid force of nature. His body ached, the storm was intense and increased the longer he was carried. 'He' thought his body was going to break, he was sure it would inevitably break like a twig.
When he was about to suffocate, he reached the surface. His throat sucked in all the air possible, his eyes reddened with terror staring around trying to locate himself. He wasn't able to recognize where he was, the trees were even bigger than what he was used to. The sun scorched his skin where sweat trickled down, the chill of the liquid bathing him was insufficient to quench the heat born of his agony.
The tired muscles did not support his body on the surface and he was again forced to go back to the bottom by the weight of the waters. He wasn't calmer down there, far from it. The storm threw him in all directions, indifferent to his life. The stones were his fear, 'he' could not open his eyes to be safe, however he was aware of how the path would be full of rocks.
No other senses worked other than his sense of touch. His ears only picked up buzzing, they felt swollen and ready to burst. His mouth swallowed more and more gulps of water against his will, his lungs almost full, his life line almost broken.
Was it the end?
The goblin thought so. The weak body hit something solid, pain was the immediate reaction, relief soon after, a hope created by his quick thinking. Another monster would only have suffering in mind, 'he' saw an opportunity. He grabbed the stone with all his limbs, a hug for his life. Using his legs he propelled himself toward the surface, fighting to maintain consciousness threatened by lack of air.
The top was reached, a solid and slippery base that he climbed with difficulty. His restless legs shook as he vomited up water and whatever else he'd swallowed in the last few hours. Disconsolate, he threw himself into his quest to understand where he was.
Realization was a new dose of fear. The trunks of the trees were thicker, from above came down many vines, vines and many more vines, vines, vines, vines and more vines.
For a few seconds, that was all that occupied his thoughts. Obsession only interrupted when the little green being stared at the mountains in the distance, much closer than before.
Mountains and vines, vines and mountains, vines, mountains, vines, mountains, vines, mountains.
'He' knew where he was, he must not have been there at all. With fear, he thought he heard their howling in the distance, they were close by, he didn't like them, dread possessed his chest just at the idea of finding them.
Weakness took over again, a slip on wet stone, a fall. Your head against the rock.
And just darkness.
As he fell into deep unconsciousness, he felt something touch his body in the water, firm hands caught him. Furry arms cradled him and there he knew he had been captured.
That was his last thought before he couldn't think of anything else.