Blackeye was perhaps the last individual Runt wanted to have an interaction with that evening. Goblins put stock in nothing that didn’t further their own interests, and kin was no different. Your relationship with someone either had it’s use or it didn’t exist. Runt was at the bottom of the totem pole, which meant every member of his extensive family ignored or outright denied their ties to him. To be related to Runt spoke of a potential weakness within you. A flaw in your blood, or something that could easily be exploited. If you showed any kindness to one of your kin you were putting them in danger. A target on their back that a rival would find a way to exploit. If you trusted your sisters and brothers above any other goblin, you were making an even grander mistake. They would lean on that kinship up until it no longer worked for them. At which point they would use that very trust to bury their blade deep into your heart. Quite often siblings were each others most bitter enemies. Cruelties that started in childhood only to carry deep into their adult lives.

Blackeye was certainly no exception to those rules. In fact in Runt’s eyes he was the living embodiment of what it meant to be a part of a family of goblins. No other had been as cruel, as conniving, or as detrimental to his growth as his brother had been. Barely a few months older than Runt he had used every ounce of power that his headstart had given him with no regards for his younger sibling wellbeing. Runt had long ago lost track of all the food that had been stolen from him, all the time he had wasted fighting and losing to Blackeye, all the beatings he had been on the receiving end of. He could count the number of victories he had over his brother on one hand, and the innumerable scars that littered his body counted his brother’s score easily enough.

Blackeye only acknowledged his brother to take from Runt. And the fact that Runt understood why was enough to heighten his hatred for his kin. That Blackeye had good reason to do it just made every beating worse, every blow sting more than the one before. Blackeye had a simple reason for his endless torments, he had to do what he could to distance himself from Runt. A lesson that his mother had beaten into him the day he had earned his name. That Runt was not to be pitied, he was a blemish to be ignored that stained her entire line. Runt was a potential knife in the back at worst, and a liability at best. A force born into this world to hamper both of them. And just as the injury to Blackeye’s face had never quite healed, that lesson had stuck with him.

Which meant his approach to Runt’s hideout was bad news. Runt knew what loomed above his brother’s head, he knew what processes defined his brothers mind, and he could only think of a few reasons that his brother would approach him in a moment of weakness. To finish him off, to remove the blemish for good and heighten his own status in the meantime, or to take advantage of the weakness and take whatever Runt had left. Neither option seemed all that enticing to Runt as he forced his creaking body into a kneeling position, fist moving to clench at one of the branches above him. He knew he was in no position to fight, the injuries of yesterday only making his chances worse, but he would if he had to. A growl rumbled from his throat as he addressed his brother, lips curled back into a hideous snarl. Hatred was written into every line etched upon his face.

“No deal, whatever the fuck it is,” Runt’s voice hissed, sliding in between the branches in between the two green skinned youths. His fist clenched at the branch overhead, wood snapping as he watched his brother’s smile only grow.

“It’s a good deal,” his brother grinned, his smile infuriating Runt further as he continued, “I saw you fight...Stank is a weaklin’, but you almost won. If you weren’t a fucking idiot, and had someone to watch your back, you’d have kept your dinky little crumbs.”

“Cheaters,” Runt snarled, memories of the blow from behind enough to deepen his already gloomy expression, “I had it. I was winning and the damned fuckin’ cheaters stole from me!”

Blackeye laughed, his deeper voice echoing around the small space the Runt occupied reminding the smaller goblin of who he was venting to. Runt instantly clammed up and let the smallest bit of his anger drop, replacing it with suspicion. Blackeye would not be laughing it he was here to finish Runt off. He would have taken the opportunity presented when Runt had rambled, when he had idiotically let himself be distracted. Blackeye was here for another reason. The way Runt leaned towards Blackeye was enough to prompt the other to continue, a conspiratorial look flickering from within the depths of his stained irises.

“Now say I guarantee that I steps in next time a fight like that happens. I won’t help, I’ll let the fight go however it’s gonna go, but I won’t let others cheat. Punch comes your way from someone else, Blackeye’ll be there to stop it. Give you a fighting chance.”

To Runt the offer was a goldmine. He had already proven he could win a fight in the right circumstances, but Blackeye was right. He knew his brother was right, but that only served to heighten his suspicions. An offer like that carried some weight even if Blackeye never truly stepped in. If Runt just made it known that Blackeye could potentially do so it would dissuade some of his would be attackers. Blackeye could even betray him ultimately, leave him out to dry, but the offer being made had worth. It wasn’t just another piece of trash that Runt has to scramble for, it was tangible. A thread of hope. Which meant it was tainted. Poisoned somehow. An offer that would spell his doom in some other way.

Seeing his expression and seeing the paranoid look upon his face was enough to pause Blackeye’s smile. Something small that bolstered Runt’s confidence. A sign that he had made the right decision to be hesitant. There was a catch. Something he would have to do in return.

“Now, the offer doesn’t come free,” Blackeye grumbled, conceding to Runt’s paranoia. He’d hope to have Runt’s agreement before he spelled out the full deal, but both brother’s knew each other too well. Both knew everything would have to be spelled out before they agreed. “I just want the smallest of favours. The teeniest of concessions. The minutest of-”

“Out with it,” snarled Runt cutting his brother off, his expression deepening into a thoughtful glower the more his brother spoke, testing every word that reached his ears.

“Fine,” grumbled Blackeye, leaning in closer as he began to whisper, “You have to help me kill Fang.”

There was a pause, a breath passing between the siblings as Runt stared at Blackeye. Then it was Runt’s turn to laugh, the goblin slinking back and falling to the leaves below him as he settled into the tree surrounding him. His laugh was a cracked and cackling sound that disturbed the other livings things that surrounded them. His broken ribs pained him to express his own disbelief, and that registered as he swore loudly following the outburst. Coughing and spluttering as he raised his voice to respond, “No. Fuck no. I’m good as dead already, doing that’d put a bigger target on my back. You can fight your fights, I ain’t doing anything stupid.”

“Brother,” hissed Blackeye as he stared between the branches that separated them, his stony face speaking of just how serious he was, “He knows I’m coming for him. He knows I want what he has. But he doesn’t ever think about you. He doesn’t even register you exist. He’s a fuckin’ old man now, and hasn’t won a fight in the past year. Last raid he almost got himself gored through the chest by a fuckin’ pig because he scooped some of their slop. If I don’t do it- If we don’t do it, someone else will realize he’s past his prime and pounce before we can, or the next pig will actually get lucky. Then who’ll have the chiefs ear? We gonna drag the pig back here and let him run the camp?”

“I’m not going to kill our uncle you brainless shit smear,” Runt growled, gesturing with his hand back towards the camp behind his brother, “Get one of your buddies to help you. Dippy or Sniffer, whoever the fuck.”

“Fang knows about those two. He knows everyone who owes me a fuckin’ favour and has already bought ‘em off. Sniffer got a tent of her own, and Dippy got some of that wine we swiped. I show up with those two? They’ll turn on me before we even start fighting Fang.” Blackeye snarled, keeping his voice low as he gestured towards Runt, “You though? That little bit of mud on the rest of our shoes? He doesn’t even remember you’re family, much less still alive. I surprise him by showing up with you? We gotta fighting chance. You just have to trip him up when you can, and maybe slide a shank between his ribs if it looks like it’s going bad. Nothing to it. I’ll be the one actually in danger.”

Runt sighed and lifted one clawed hand to his face, rubbing the anger from his expression with two fingers pressed to his forehead. The thoughts that raced through his head had little to do with the morality of what Blackeye was asking him. In the society in which he lived there was no true concepts such as ‘good’ or ‘evil’. Just what was practical and what wasn’t. To Runt the life he was debating on taking had as much worth to him as the animals his kind hunted to feed themselves. Potentially annoying to deal with, but rewarding in it’s defeat. He was debating all the options that presented themselves to him, and weighing the benefits to himself. There was no concern for Fang. No mercy or compassion. Just an ever burning desire to climb up that half a rung that was being presented to him.

Of course he also considered the flip side to this deal. Instead of siding with Blackeye, siding with Fang like seemingly most of the others in the camp had done. To take Blackeyes planned betrayal and rat on him. Provide just enough information to doom his sibling. That would certainly be the safest option but as a consequence he would also have little to gain from it. Runt’s life up until that moment had been a series of risks for minimal gain. Living on a knifes edge, never quite sure when you’d anger the wrong individual by taking just what he needed to get by. The option that Blackeye was presenting, while not truly that great of a payment in return, was something he could use to break that cycle. If he handled himself well here he could begin to repair a reputation that had been crumbling his entire life. He could be seen as competent, a worthy ally. Or a dangerous enemy. It was the beginning of an upwards step, and the greed that flickered in his eyes outweighed his trepidation.

He would throw in with Blackeye, but he would also leave his options open. Even if he assisted his brother he would make no guarantees to continue to do so. A glint of pure ambition lit itself upon his features, and as he pulled his hand away from his face he greeted Blackeye with a grin that stretched from one batlike ear to another. He slowly stood back upon his feet and broke apart the branches in front of him, extending one of his cloth wrapped hands to Blackeye as he exited his wooded retreat.

“Stupid idea, but I’ll help. You’ve got your deal,” he stated simply, his grin only growing as Blackeye reached to clasp his a second later. Each squeezing with as firm a grasp as they could manage. The creak of bones in his hand driving pain shooting up his arm. Runt still held the grasp as long as Blackeye did, customary threats upon failure passing between the two. The deal would stick for now, but even as the conspiring siblings grinned at each other and began to foment a plan, they both knew this truce would never last. Runt hated Blackeye too much, and Blackeye had too much disdain for the stain that Runt represented. Only this short lived mutual benefit was enough of a bind to hold them together. They would give Runt a week to heal, to recuperate and strike when Fang would be at his least observant.

As the plan was finalized, and Blackeye breaking off to make his way back to the main camp before anybody noticed his suspicious disappearance, Runt’s grin didn’t fade from his face. His plan of betrayal was equally as completed within his own mind. The saw-like teeth within his mouth clattering together as he began to cackle, the noise echoing around the empty swamp that surrounded him.The raw joy in the noise easy read by all that could hear it. All it took was the beating of a lifetime. Finally a better life was within his grasp.