Goblin Diaries, Vol 22: Fading Hope

 From the June 20, 2025 Newsletter



11th Day of Snow Moon, 1219th Year, Human Age of Magic …

I’m getting desperate. As I closed my eyes last night and tried to sleep, I prayed to the gods of Urgule that when I woke this morning the pack of hyenas keeping vigil at the mouth of the cave where I’m hiding would be gone, and I could be on my way.

My prayers remain unanswered. I now count at least a dozen in my narrow field of vision at the mouth of the cave. The big female alpha lies patiently in the shade of a large boulder, one eye half open and focused on the cave entrance. Occasionally, she will raise herself on four paws, lock eyes with me, and growl. It sends a chill through my very being.

It is hot, dry, and cramped here in the cave, and my water is completely gone, having just barely moistened my mouth with the last few drops from my waterskin moments ago. At this point, even if the bitch gives up and takes her pack to find other prey, I will be too weak and dehydrated to make it very far.

Yet, the hyenas leaving is my only hope. I cannot stay here in this cave with neither food nor water. The only weapons I can find are the rocks and pebbles that litter my hiding space, and even if I had the strength to use them, the hyenas lying in wait are just too many.

The sun is beginning to sink on my third day in hiding. I’m sending up a final desperate prayer to the gods of Urgule. If the hyenas are not gone by the morning, I am done for.


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