Everygoblin struggles with something

 "Everygoblin struggles with something," Markbla sighs, her eyes hard.

"Well, yeah." I can see the unsaid portion though, in the lines on her face. That it doesn't make it ok, what he's done. But. We need eachother. We need his strength and cunning. And after all we're goblins. What more can be expected of us, by any god? They've all forsaken us, and we have to make do. 

We have to keep going, in the dark corners of the world, if just to spite them. To fart in the faces of the high and mighty ones. To keep going, too, because we're terrified of the alternative, not death I mean, but annihilation, to be erased, eradicated, and forgotten. And to keep going, finally, because of a crazy elusive hope that we dare not breathe or think too clearly, that someday it might be better for our small ones. That there could be a redemption for any of us.

This all passes unsaid, of course, and someday I'll come back and write it up more artfully, maybe playing it out in a back and forth conversation between Markbla and me. But today I just wanted to get the thought down.

We're goblins. We need eachother, because we have no one else we can trust. Everygoblin struggles with something, but that's not important, really. What's important is how we come together. To keep going in the dark corners of the world, so that maybe someday we can come into the-- no. So that maybe someday our small ones will sleep safe with full bellies.