Marlis- Chapter 2

The Flathead dragged her all the way to the back and she had run further still for hours, the seven wolves always around them. Thorny shrubs and gnarled branches tugged and teared at the girl's paper dress, silent tears ran down her dirty cheeks, but the slaver couldn't softened by anything. He only saw the tidy sum of money that he would receive the young Trog.

It went dark between the ancient trees and the smell of smoke and fire rose to the girl's nose. In a clearing, the companion of the Flathead who caught her waited, poking around in the camp fire with a stick The sulfurous smell of burning Stinkwood-pieces reached the girl's nose and she almost wished that Goblin tribes had chosen any other tree of the Deepwoods to be their main firewood supplier. Slightly behind she could spot a barred wagon, behind a bull Hammelhorn with twisted horns was tethered on his nose ring. The wolves that seemed to fear the fire and the Hammelhorn remained quietly whimpering on the edge of the clearing, and the Flathead dragged his prey on."Look what Teg our pretties have caught today!", he shouted, pulling a girl's arm upward so roughly that she stumbled. "Watch it you Fromp-brain, you'll dislocate her arm!," called Teg and stood up. "Such a fragile thing. How am I going to make her to money if she has a lame arm, eh? If that feathered flea-bag will notice it, she'll will pay only half ". He knocked the other goblin a few times on the forehead with his fist, then pulled out a piece of rope out from under his belt and turned to the girl, who was staring at him with hostility. Her shoulder hurted like hell and she knew exactly what Teg was going to do now. The other Goblin reached forward, grabbed her hand and held out her hands while Teg tied the rope tightly around them. The twisted rootlets the rope was made from were rough and scratched like thorns on the skin of the girl, but she tried not to show any emotion. Teg grabbed her and hung her like a sack over his shoulder. She screamed and kicked around, but it was no use. "Shut up girl!". Before she knew what was going on, she found herself in the cage, which was mounted on top of the wagon. The bars were so broad and were so close together that she could almost could not see through it. Inside it, it was pitch black and the floor was covered with a mixture of straw and a few rags and dull smelling musty straw. Teg slammed the door that it shook the whole cage. A bunch of keys were rattling, then he went back to the fire. The young Termagant Trog sat up and tugged at her bound wrists. She even bit into the ropes, but they tasted as awful as a Tarry Wine. "Somehow it must be ..." she muttered, and spat out a few fibers of the rope. It was not even a particularly thick rope, but it was very resistant. "Oh, please let it, it does not make sense." Scared to death, the girl turned around and stared into the corner from which the voice had come. Back there in the dark, sat a head to toe deep red Slaughterer with spiky hair, maybe a few years older than her, her knees drawn tightly to the lean chest. He was also handcuffed. The girl turned down quickly and moved a little closer. "What are they doing with us?" She whispered. She was glad to see someone she could trust to some extent, the Slaughteres were, quite contrary to their name and the popular belief, extraordinarily peaceful people. The Slaughterer snorted joyless. "You're asking for? Have not you heard the stories? " She shook her head. "What kind of stories?". The Slaughteres raised his head a little. "Well, if you live under the earth ...", he said, but left it at that. It was not the time to thrash out the differences between their two cultures. "They will sell us to the Shrykes, as sure as I'm sitting here. And then we land on the Great Shryke Slave Market and be sold off to someone with a lot of money as a Hammerlhorn on the market. If they have not already been beaten us to death. Or worse ... " "I've never seen a Shryke ...", the girl said quietly. "Are they really ... like that?". The Slaughterer leaned over. "They are much worse. Worse than anything you've ever heard. My father once watched a battle between a couple of Shrykes and a Goblin battalion and then told the whole village what he had seen. The Shrykes and the Goblins are mortal enemies you need to know. If you're lucky, the Shrykes tear you in equal pieces and you do not get the rest. If you have no luck, they spit bile in your eyes that makes you blind. And then they tear your heart out alive and eat it while it's still beating. " His voice grew low and the eyes of the girls bigger wich each word. "And if they make an interesting catch, such as a Sky Pirate, he will be brought in the Wig-Wig Arena of the Great Shryke Slave Market. And in front of the audience, the Roost-mother will fed him to the Wig-Wigs and one can bet on how long he will make it. And I've heard, they can sleep with their eyes open so they do not miss anything, not the slightest movement ... and then they get you! " To illustrate what has been said, he struck his hands together. "They have sharp talons which can slash a Hammelhorn in a second, and their beak ist full of sharp teeth ... you have no time to scream, because you're dead before you realized what's -" He was interrupted by one of the goblins, who struck the bars with a stick. "Finally shut up in there or I'll cut out your tongue and feed them to the wolves, Bloody" The Slaughterer glared in the direction from which the voice came, because by now it was pitch black outside of the cage and they could see nothing except the faint glow of the fire. The Slaughteres were not ably to dispose the prejudices once for all, that the red color of their skin and their hair came from the blood of slaughtered animals, which had passed through all their pores. It came from the red smoke which was created when burn the wood of Red Oak, the by Slaughterers most commonly used Deepwood tree. The girl curled up in the musty damp straw and closed her eyes tightly. The pictures you did not go out of her head.