Chapter 354: The Blood Fang Tribe

Plum had lost track of how long they had been walking. The ashen trees of Vulture Woods had blurred around her like a surreal dream. The sunlight filtered through the scarlet canopy in random patches, highlighting strange bushes and other plants Plum had never seen or even read about in any of her botany books.

Usually, she would be excited over a discovery, usually. But all she could think of was about their party’s final destination.

“This is it,” Stryg glanced at the surrounding trees with recognition. “We’re finally in the Blood Fang’s territory.”

“So, what exactly is your village like?” Plum asked for the hundredth time.

“It’s mostly made of log buildings and tents. There are tall wooden walls surrounding the entire village,” Stryg said.

“And each of those walls is surrounded by very sharp wooden spikes, yes, you told us that part already,” Plum said anxiously. “What about the guards? Are they hostile? Because I feel like they would be pretty hostile.”

“Everything and everyone in Vulture Woods is hostile,” Stryg said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“So what’s our plan of attack, if it comes to it that is,” Tauri hefted her flail.

“We’re not going to the village, hopefully,” Stryg said.

“Wait, I thought the whole point of walking these last few days was to visit your village?” Plum frowned.

Stryg placed a finger to his lips, “Shh, we’re almost there.” He crouched behind a tree and silently beckoned for them to follow.

Tauri and Plum glanced at one another and after a silent moment of regret, they reluctantly followed Stryg. The trio crawled on their hands and knees as Stryg led them through the vivid green brush.

“What are we doing?” Tauri grabbed Stryg’s ankle. “Hey! We’re not going any further until you tell us exactly what’s going on!”

Plum nodded in agreement.

“Okay, fine, just don’t make a lot of noise,” Stryg whispered.

“We’re waiting,” Tauri whispered.

Stryg sighed, “This particular area is free of any dangerous fauna. Every few days the hunters routinely kill anything that wanders too close to this place.”

“And why would they do that?” Tauri asked.

“Food,” Stryg whispered. He made sure they were well hidden behind a tree, before pointing to a large patch of countless bushes in the distance. Dark purple, almost black, berries dotted the red-stemmed bushes.

Plum peeked out from behind the tree and adjusted her glasses, “…Are those… elderberries?”

Stryg nodded, “The tribe’s gatherers visit the berry orchard frequently.”

“I never really pictured your tribe having a dedicated orchard for making wine,” Tauri smiled wryly.

“They don’t make wine from the berries. We eat them,” Stryg said.

“What?” Tauri furrowed her brow. “Elderberries are poisonous if eaten raw.”

“Maybe to orcs,” he grinned. “We eat them just fine.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Tauri sighed.

“Hey, what’s that?” Plum pointed.

Stryg glanced in the direction of her finger and pulled Plum back behind the tree, “Shh, they’re coming!”

A dozen goblins dressed in mottled green cloaks and hide clothing walked out from the ashen trees across the orchard. Their hair was black, save for a few who had dark brown or chestnut hair. Their skin was a vibrant green, different from the pale and dark greens of Hollow Shade’s goblins.

“The gatherers…” Stryg said softly.

The gatherers each had a woven basket strapped to their backs and a sharp dagger in their clawed fingers. Their cold yellow eyes glanced around the bushes, searching for any potential dangers.

The Sylvan goblins moved with a silent uniform grace, each going towards a diffraction section of bushes. They slipped the baskets off their shoulders and quickly began to harvest the elderberries.

A single woman stood apart from the others. She wore a scarlet wreath over her black hair, made from the leaves of the ashen trees. She walked with calm steps past each of the gatherers, inspecting their work with a close eye.

“Who is that?” Tauri whispered.

“Fourth Mother,” Stryg said solemnly.

Tauri recalled what little information she knew about the Mothers of the Sylvan tribes. “So she’s in charge of the younglings? Then what is she doing here?”

“The Mothers are much more than that,” Stryg said. “They are a tribe’s priestesses, servants of Lunae. The Mothers are the most honorable of the tribal paths.”

Plum nodded, “The moon priestesses have many vital tasks in the village; from carrying out the tribe’s rituals to delivering newborns and raising and teaching them the ways of the Sylvan.”

An expression of surprise crossed Stryg’s face, “You remembered…?”

Plum shrugged awkwardly, “Just because it's been a few years doesn’t mean I forgot everything you told me about your people.”

Stryg lips curled into a small smile.

“So why is this Fourth Mother — is that what you really call her? What’s her actual name?” Tauri shook her head. “Anyways, why is this Fourth Mother here?”

“Goblin women give up their birth names when they become Mothers as a sign of solidarity,” Stryg said. “The Mothers place the needs of the tribe over their own. We simply call them by their ordinal number based on their line of seniority.”

He carefully glanced past the ashen tree at Fourth Mother who was slowly walking closer towards them, “Fortunately, Fourth is in charge of looking after the gatherers today. That’s good. I was really hoping it wasn’t Sixth or First.”

“I take it you don’t like Sixth or First?” Tauri said dryly.

Stryg searched the ground for small rocks and put them in his pocket. “I don’t like Sixth and she’s always hated me. But First is different, she is the leader of the Mothers, the matriarch of the Blood Fang. She expects only the best from all of us… and I was nothing but the worst. Let’s just say she was disappointed.”

“I still find it really hard to believe you were the worst,” Tauri said doubtfully. Since the first day she had met him, Stryg had succeeded in her class. He had outrun everyone else, even the sons of House Veres and Gale. How these people were blind to this strange youth’s abilities, she had no idea.

“What about Fourth Mother? Is she as bad as the rest?” Plum asked worriedly.

“Fourth was the most ‘playful’ of the Mothers. Whenever any of us would get in trouble instead of beating us, Fourth would instead throw pebbles at our feet”

“That sounds so much better,” Tauri rolled her eyes. “Getting beat with rocks sounds so ‘pleasant.’”

Stryg shrugged, “It was more a game really, if I could dodge the pebbles then I wouldn’t get beaten.”

“Well that’s not too bad,” Plum said.

“The pebbles always hit me,” Stryg admitted.

“Oh. Oh. Damn, I’m sorry,” Plum winced.

“It’s fine. Look, she’s coming closer. Stay here and hide your faces,” Stryg whispered and crawled closer towards the orchard.

Tauri and Plum wanted to protest but he had already moved.

Stryg crawled his way to an elderberry bush and waited until Fourth was far enough from the gatherers. He grabbed one of the stones in his pocket and tossed it at Forth’s feet. The small rock skipped on the ground and light hit her ankle. She jumped at the sudden flicker of pain and reflexively drew her dagger. She crouched low and glared at the elderberry bush.

Fourth took a deep breath and prepared to shout a warning to the others when a second pebble skipped on the ground and hit her foot. She furrowed her brow in suspicion. A third pebble hit her shin.

“Which one of you idiots dares hit me!?” Fourth hissed angrily.

“Please don’t shout, I come in peace. I just needed to get your attention,” Stryg whispered and walked out from behind the bush.

Fourth stumbled back and fell on her bottom. She raised her trembling hand and pointed her dagger at him. “W-Who are you!?” she whispered fearfully.

“It’s me,” he frowned, confused. “Stryg.”

“Stryg…?” Fourth muttered and looked him up and down. A tall, beautiful drow stood in front of her with a cloak of white petals wrapped around his shoulders. Except, he wasn’t quite a drow. Though his ears were pointed, they were longer than a drow’s, and they didn’t point upwards, but instead were bent at a horizontal angle, like those of a goblin’s.

The stranger’s skin was blue, like the goblin who had once gone by the name of Stryg. His pupils were black slits like other goblins, but his irises were a soft lilac and his hair was a pale grey, almost white.

It couldn’t be… she thought.

“Stryg? Is that really you?” Fourth mumbled in bewilderment.

“Hello, Fourth Mother,” Stryg smiled weakly. “I know I’m not welcome in the tribe any longer but I just wanted to know if—”

“You’re alive? You’re really alive? How? And why are you so big?” Fourth muttered, perplexed.

“I… I don’t know actually,” Stryg admitted.

Fourth swallowed hard and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, I must take you to the others.”

“Others?”

Fourth pushed herself to her feet, “The Mothers. Especially First. She will know what to do about all of this.”

“Wait, you actually want me to go back into the village? Are you sure that’s okay? Don’t you even want to know where I’ve been, Fourth?” Stryg frowned.

“It’s Third now and no, I dare not ask where you have been. It’s not my place to speak any more of this. Come along, quickly, before others notice you’re here.”

“Wait, Third…?” Stryg choked. If she’s Third now then that means…

Second Mother had been with him in the cave when the lamias had attacked.

Stryg nodded weakly, “I see. Second Mother died…”

“What? No. Second is fine. Third died a few months back. She tried riding a wolf and was mauled to death instead. Her wounds got infected and she passed away a few days later.”

“Wait, what?”

“There’s a lot you’ve missed. Point is, I’m the new Third and we need to get you to the village now.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to know where I’ve been?” Stryg asked, confused.

“Definitely.”

“But aren’t you angry with me? You should be furious!”

“As I said, it’s not my place to decide.”

“Third Mother, is everything okay?” a young woman called out from nearby.

It took a moment for Stryg to recognize the pretty goblin, but her voice was unmistakable. How could he forget her unbearable laughter of triumph as she beat him helplessly in his Night Challenge.

“Gathi!?” Stryg’s eyes widened.

“Mother, get back!” Gathi jumped in front of Third and hissed angrily, “Get away from her, monster!”

Stryg blinked, “Gathi, it’s me, it’s Str-”

“Outsider!” Gathi yelled. “Help, we’re under attack—!”

As if by some petty instinct Stryg flicked the last pebble in his hand straight at Gathi. The rock smacked her in the throat with a loud pop. Gathi coughed a terrible wheezing sound and clutched at her throat. Her eyes widened in panic and she dropped to her knees.

Stryg watched with a small smile of delight as she fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

Third glared at Stryg and opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped and stared at him warily. “…We need to go before the other gatherers get here and start asking questions I don’t have answers to.”

“And Gathi?”

“The gatherers will take care of her. Now let’s move.”

Stryg nodded, “Okay, but the thing is… I’m not alone.”

“What?” Third frowned.

Stryg gestured to a nearby tree. Two hooded figures stepped out. One was even taller than Stryg and held a flail in hand. The other was shorter than both of them and hid behind the tallest one.

“You brought outsiders into our land?” Third lost her restraint and hissed.

Stryg glanced between his companions and Third. “Um… yes?”