A Goblin of the Glade by McKenzie Catron

Author:McKenzie Catron [Catron, McKenzie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Whimsical Illustration & Publishing

Water-Wyrms and Their Pets

With both hands, I grab on to the leg of Posy’s boot and heave. The answering slurp of mud, and the pop of her shoe coming free is deafening in the snow-scattered swamp. But not as deafening as the ice spiderwebbing around us. I push my sisters forward and shatter the frozen surface under our boots before throwing a quick glance behind us, gazing at the approaching figures. The singing is drawing closer, coming from the low-hanging trees to the right. But I feel something moving through the deepest pits of the marsh and creeping in from the left as well, ever so slow. My sense of smell is polluted. All I catch is a whiff of mildew, wetland gases from uncovered decomposing plants, and fresh snow.

We sprint, or attempt to, slogging over the soft earth that’s been revealed, our bags bumping along our backs as we try to stifle our gasps and heaving. But the way we fumble about as we head further into the swamp, makes it impossible to be quiet. It’s pointless to use our goblin ancestry to try to sneak away unseen. We’re a beacon of noise with the horribly cold muck and chunks of floating ice up to our calves and pouring into our boot tops. The swamp is like frost-thickened molasses, the underwater plants grabbing at our ankles and twisting around our boots, pulling us down like we’re its last meal. Every step creates waves of sloshing, making a rippling icy trail that leads right to us, X marks the snack.

Falling is something we cannot afford right now. So, whenever Posy or Poppy missteps and lurches forward, I grab them by the knapsack and yank them up, then urge them to go faster. I can feel splashes of filthy water getting into the tops of my high boots. It’s biting from the snow that’s melted into it and now the snow that’s dusting it, making my toes numb. We need to find Grim and Baba Yaga’s house before we become crystallized bogey food. And fast.

“Does anyone see the house?” I pant out thick clouds, skin prickling with sweat and fear.

Poppy keens, “I don’t see it anywhere!”

The tree cover and gray snow-filled skies make for dim surroundings. For all we know, the witch’s house could be tucked further into the deeper marshes. The only thing we can do is keep running and hope whatever is trying to lure us with its wraith-like songs doesn’t like the taste of goblins.

Poppy’s soaking wet cloak keeps trying to trip me. I throw it aside, grunting as I try not to eat a face full of mud and tiny icecaps. “Keep looking,” I gasp.

The eerie voices are at the edge of the trees now. I can feel the creatures lurking, watching us run. Why they aren’t racing into the snow and attacking us is a mystery, but I don’t intend on sticking around to solve it. Catching sight of numerous pairs of briny, glowing eyes is enough to make my stomach swoop and make me push my sisters even faster.

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