The silence lingers, thick and unblinking. My sword lowers, tip dragging through the dirt as I take one slow breath. Then another. The coppery stench of blood clings to my skin like smoke. I turn—finally—to the cage.
It's tucked back in the shadows, behind bones and old hides, as if the goblins didn't know what to do with it. Or perhaps they did.
That's worse.
I step forward, and the thing inside flinches. The cage rattles with a soft metallic chink, like it's too scared to even make noise.
Closer now, I see it.
Not an animal.
Not exactly.
It's a cub—round and low to the ground, maybe two feet tall but nearly four wide. A dense ball of fur, shaggy and matted in places. The eyes, though—huge and gold, glimmering even in the dark. Intelligent. Terrified. It doesn't roar or growl. Just watches. Tucked into itself.
Its so round looking that I can't help but laugh at its absurdity, I can't imagine that the goblins had any good plans for this ball of fluff.
[Insight]
A small text appears next to the cage.
[Bear Folk]
A Bear Folk? Looking around I don't see any signs of a parent that maybe the goblins fought with. They probably stole the little guy from his family.
Its young. Too young. At least to survive on its own.
My breath catches in my throat. They must've captured it during one of the raids, paraded it like some trophy. There's a bruise blooming under one eye. Its fur is singed at the edges. It looks like they were pretty rough with the little guy.
I crouch. Inching forward towards the cage.
"It's okay little bud" I say gently holding my hand out.
It backs away. Shivering in the corner of the cage.
I stop moving, sword still at my side, hands open.
"I'm not like them," I whisper trying to win favor with the cub.
The cub tilts its head slightly, watching me. Its tiny claws grip the floor of the cage. Not in readiness—just to stop itself from shaking.
I reach for the cage door, fingers curling around the lock. The lock looking pretty old snaps off with 2 hard tugs. As I open the cages door I wait patiently to not scare the little cub anymore than he already is.
The cub doesn't move.
I ease back, giving it space. "You're free."
A long pause. Then, slowly—so slowly—it shuffles forward. Not walking upright like the adult Bear I've heard about. It waddles, snout twitching.
The little thing presses its forehead against my leg, just once, then sits down beside me.
Still scared. Still quiet.
But not running.
The forest around us is still. The fire crackles, casting both our shadows long and trembling on the dirt.
I should feel guilt. Or grief.
But I don't.
Only resolve.
There are more like them—more of us—who suffer because monsters are allowed to exist.
Even if the monsters look like people.
Even if the monster is me.
I glance down at the cub. "Do you know where your family is?" I ask hesitantly not knowing what kind of response I would get.
The cub looks up at me its eyes starting to swell with tears.
"Woah- woah" I drop to my knees to be closer to the cub "It's okay I'll help you get back to them just don't cry"
"I..." My voice stutters. What am I even doing? Can I even really help this cub when I'm still trying to help myself.
The cub sniffles, a wet hiccup escaping as it tries—and fails—not to cry. Its tiny shoulders tremble, little claws curled into the dirt.
"Hey now," I say, softer. "C'mon, don't do that. I'm not gonna hurt you."
It leans into me, slowly, burying its snout against my chest plate. I freeze. It's warm. Shaking. Real. The warmth emanating from this small little ball of fur makes me think for a second, it's just a scared kid—no different from any child I might've seen back home.
I wrap an arm around its side. It's like hugging a sentient pillow. A fuzzy, damp, slightly singed pillow. The cub looks at my eyes whining as I rub my fingers through it's fur.
"I'm... not really great at this," I murmur, unsure if I'm talking to it or to myself. "But I won't leave you alone."
The cub lets out a soft rumble—like a sigh more than anything—and stays there, curled against me in the dirt.
[Insight]
A faint blue glow flickers in the air again, drawing my gaze.
[This Bear Folk cub has been separated from its clan. Its scent is marked by the mountain winds, meaning its home is likely to the northeast. The cub's name has not yet been given, as per Bear Folk tradition.]
So even its name is something... waiting to happen. Waiting for someone to care enough to give it one.
"Well," I exhale. "We'll head northeast next. Maybe we'll find them does that sound good little guy?"
The cub doesn't respond. Just nestles closer. Making a low humming sound.
"I'll call you 'Bean' for now, okay?" I mutter, rubbing my thumb gently through its fur.
"Can't keep calling you 'little guy' forever and you look like an oversized bean."
It huffs—a tired, almost amused puff of air.
I glance around. Blood. Ash. The stink of goblin filth.
"We're done here," I say to the trees, to the flames, to the ghosts of what just happened. I rise, lifting the cub gently into my arms. It's heavy, but not too much. Just enough to remind me that it's alive.
Just enough to remind me what I'm fighting for.
As I stand fully an explosion sounds off in the distance, as I turn around I can see it smoke coming from the direction of the village.
"Damn-" as the words leave my mouth in a full sprint moving as fast as I can while making sure I don't squish bean.