Chapter 62

Fingernails.

BarnacleEyes

Maintain the paths, collect firewood, shoo the goblins away, and move the barrels. Those were my tasks and I did pretty well with them. Hawkin was picky about the size of the wood I collected and I learned that bigger logs burned better and longer. Since he didn’t want me cutting down trees, I had to look carefully for logs on the ground.

“Isn’t it easier to pick a tree and cut it down?” I had asked him. “That way you don’t have to walk in the woods for miles on end.”

“I fell trees sometimes,” he’d responded. “When they’re large and too old. You have to pick the right one. Otherwise, it’s not that bad to look for forest debris.”

I wouldn’t say I was working more than I had been with the goblins. In fact, I was working about half the time, which I liked. But I was doing a lot of strenuous labor. The barrels were heavy, and maintaining the paths was back-breaking.

I was overall pleased with defecting. Hawkin and Thrush treated me like I had value, and I would always be thankful for that. However, watching Thrush bring up a couple of sunken goblin ships sort of struck a chord in my heart. I wanted my own ship. Even though I might not ever have goblins to crew it.

Hawkin was busy, Thrush was busy, the blue rats wanted nothing to do with me, so I was stuck with myself. After working on Hawkin’s path down to the sea, I veered away on my own secret trail. The path slithered north for about a mile until I came to a small cove.

My supplies were untouched. Logs, and strips of bark and vine. I made myself comfortable by the icy water and used my fingernails to strip more bark from saplings and young branches, just like I’d seen Hawkin do when he was making his strainer.

My fingernails suffered from the task. They split. Cracked. Broke. Bled. I couldn’t stop until I had a big enough pile to tie the logs together and make my own raft. Then I made a paddle, but since I had no blade to whittle the wood with, I dug into the wood with my pliers and pulled at the grain until strip after strip of wood peeled off. I rounded the logs that way too.

Pleased with the order of things, I began to tie the strips of bark around each log. I came back the next day to continue the process, and then the day after that. I worked at it for a week until my raft was complete. I pushed it in the water and hopped aboard with my paddle under one arm. I didn’t go more than 40 feet from the inlet of the cove before my raft sank. I lost everything.

Dejected and freezing wet, I trudged home to my shed.

There was a bowl of soup on my stool. Against the legs was a floppy waterskin of Hawkin’s beer.

I couldn’t bring myself to go back to working on a new raft the next day. Instead, I sat by the fire that Hawkin had made and spent my morning staring into the flames. Hawkin came to sit with me at one point and offered me a salad.

“Yuk,” I said.

“Thrush might have some smoked fish soon,” Hawkin said.

“Yea.”

“Is everything alright? You seem a little down.”

“I tried making a boat. It didn’t work.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why didn’t it work?”

I told Hawkin what I’d been up to for the past month. I showed him my fingernails and he tsked and sucked teeth when he saw the state of them. After asking me to sit tight for a minute, he ran to his cabin, then returned several minutes later with a cloth and a pot of warm water.

“Let's wash your hands and clean up your nails a bit,” he said. “Let me see your hands.”

“Wash my hands?”

“Give me your hands.”

I held my hands out. Then I think I lost my mind.

Hawkin was gentle and attentive. The warm wet cloth felt like heaven. He was gentle and deliberate. The human’s hands were large, calloused, and reminded me of goblins’ carpenter hands. With his giant axe, he deftly clipped my fingernails back as much as he could to where the splits ended.

“I have a feeling you use your nails a lot, being the goblin you are,” he said.

“Do I?”

“I think so. You pick at everything. An entire raft, sticks, food, your clothes.”

“My nose,” I said.

“Your nose,” Hawkin said. He began working on my thumb, wiping dried blood and dirt away, clearing debris from beneath the nail.

“You pick your nose too,” I said. “I’ve seen you.”

Hawkin laughed and he had to pause to gather himself.

“Fingernails are useful,” he said at last. “It’s important to take care of your nails.”

“I like my nails. I do take care of them.”

“You eat a lot of meat. I bet if you started eating more of the soups and salads I make, Your nails would get even tougher.”

“You’re lying,” I said. “That sounds stupid.”

Hawkin shrugged. “Meat is good for your nails too.”

For the next 15 minutes, my toes curled. Having my hands washed felt so good. Better than hot snot baths. However, 15 minutes was a long time to sit still, especially for me, which gave me time to think.

“You seem down again,” Hawkin said, ever observant. “What’s going on? Is it your boat?”

“I want to be more useful,” I said. “I wish I could fight GloomGlower’s fleet but I can’t.”

“Thrush was able to distract the goblins for the rest of the month. Hopefully, we won’t be dealing with them in these woods so much.”

“That will give me a lot less to do,” I said somberly.

“How about you help me brew some goblin spit beers? I’m sure your help will go a long way.”

“Would I be your right-hand goblin?”

“Uh, I suppose so. We’ll be working together, and I’m in charge of brewing, so if that’s how you want to look at it, then I guess so,” Hawkin reasoned aloud.

“When my hands get dirty, will you wash them again?”

Hawkin laughed. Again he paused to compose himself.

“How about I teach you to wash your own hands.”

“What If I don’t do as good a job?”

“I think you’ll be fine.”

“Well—if I’m having trouble, will you wash my hands for me? I really like it.”

“Sure, BarnacleEyes. I’ll show you to wash your hands, and if you ever need my help, then I’ll help you.”

“When do we start brewing beer?”

“Right now if you’d like. We could be ahead of schedule if we did a few batches before the sun goes down.”

“Hawkin?” I said.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever washed anyone’s hands before?”

“Hmm. As a matter of fact, I don’t think so.”