Chapter Text
Skrimm had always been alone. The runt of a litter 900 strong. Even when there were hundreds of them. Crowding, fighting, screaming. Nobody had understood. Slipping into the night, he doubted they even noticed. Or if they did, cared.
He was a child when he fled. The walk through the forest was dark. Cold. It was easy to mistake every shadow for a monster, lurching, ready to eat him. His small hands gripped at his bag, the frayed cloth carrying maybe two days worth of food. “Come on, Skrimm,” he muttered to himself. “You can’t turn back now. Gods, that’d be embarrassing. They don’t want you there anyway,” He could clearly envision the sneers and laughter at the sight of him trodding through the trees, ears hung low and bag empty. Perhaps they wouldn’t even let him back inside. In the morning, the corner of the floor he had called his would most likely be taken over. Quite a shame really, he liked that corner.
In the distance, a coyote howled. Skrimm had looked around wildly, shivering. The scraps of fabric that covered him could hardly be called clothes. Tears threatened to burn at his eyes as he walked faster. His legs hurt. His feet hurt. He couldn’t help but think about the stories he was told growing up. Wolves in the forest eating young goblin children. Another howl pierced the cold night air.
Skrimm tripped over a large branch. He hit the ground hard. The telltale sound of his bag ripping, what little provisions he had tumbling out of the bag. The goblin began to sob, laying on the hard ground for minutes. Maybe it would be better if the wolves found him. Gobbled him up. He curled in on himself, sobs wracking his tiny body. Eventually, he had fallen asleep. Not eaten by wolves in the night. Cold, and stiff, he picked himself back up. Ate the provisions right off the forest floor. A quiet resolve to keep moving forward, if just for the fact that the woods didn't swallow him whole.