(Click above to find this story on Facebook, or listen to the audio adaptation on YouTube.)
Gammy's Eyes
-Hapsan 92-
The largest river in the Great Wood, which nearly bisected it but for a few leagues to the west, was known to goblinkind as ‘Xan-ten-ho’, or ‘River After Life’. No species that made a home in the Wood had ever traversed it from end to end, for it passed through the Underwood, which was a place even water spiders and agile perch feared to tread (or to swim, as it were).
When the Gossamer City fell and the bearded folk vanished from the known world, goblinkind scattered along the winds. Those who went even further north were never heard from again. The ones who migrated to the east and west are as enigmatic still, but the majority, who fled due south from the horns of the icebeast, found themselves in the Great Wood. They suffered under the age of ice for many generations, but life has its ways; they survived, and made a home there until the dawn of the new millennia and the coming of the sun. Though they believed in the general benevolence of spirits, they had come to respect the wrath of nature as much as her love, and sought balanced lives in the hopes the seasons would do the same.
Though Quip the Borzoi had passed this time in a chrysalis of ice, history does not record what the Wildbun had been up to, nor was he aware himself. The void left in Rulatani’s heart by his ignorance left him often melancholic, and taciturn from his frustrations.
One night, when the hapsan breezes had begun to turn brisk, Rulatani spied the red light of Luna’s sister Rula—the darkened moon after which he was named—hanging quietly in the starry sky. He roused Quip and the Two Friends lit out after it, but she would go no further when they came across a goblin settlement. Kindled by the sight were Quip’s memories of a different age, when the icy spires of her homeland kissed the northland sky, and her ears were tended by her beloved prince. Though she knew the goblins had been mistreated and thought them often kind, she could never forget the fires of genocide on that fateful day when the walls fell, and she was deathly afraid. Inconsolable she would not go, and so Rulatani, who had vowed to follow Rula’s light wherever it led him, investigated alone.
The Wildbun, who had never seen a goblin and was taken by curiosity, observed the strange cloth they swaddled themselves in despite their amber hairs, and the curious devices they manipulated by their opposable digits. They stood and walked upon only their hinds, which were bent in reverse, and lived neither in dens, nests, nor burrows underground. Instead they made their homes from complex structures built steadfast into the largest sequoias, with sweeping balustrades and winding staircases that kept them off the ground.
To Rulatani the goblins appeared to be in festival, but no bells tolled nor banners hung, and not a voice was raised but in a mourning dirge. He watched them gather upon the banks of Xan-ten-ho, which from their settlement flowed south unto the border of the Underwood. Two of their number lay in state, lashed to a sturdy raft and adorned with offerings of fruit and wine. Nearby were moored simple fishing boats, upon which juveniles were perched among mounted balls of glowing faerie fire.
One goblin in robes of ceremony read to the crowd from an ancient grimoire about the toils of their people, and their exodus from the purgatory of the northlands. Goblinspeak was far too complex for Rulatani’s understanding, but his long ears caught it easily, and we shall relay some here for our own purposes.
“The end is the beginning, and the beginning is the end. Those who leave us this day go on to fill new roles in the circle. It is well we miss them and mourn their passing, but they mourn not, for no form is permanent, and they are ready to begin anew. Today we send the shells from which they seek to depart down the River After Life with our offerings in memoriam, that their spirits be set free in the Underland and returned to us in the bark of the trees, the birds at our ears, and the momentary smiles we experience without understanding. May what is left be reclaimed to make our soil fertile and our bellies full. In this way we help hapsan to be strong, so that never again does the icebeast raise its head.”
Rulatani saw the light of Rula focused somewhere in the crowd. Taken wholly by it he crept nearer along the banks until his hefty form could no longer be hidden by river reeds, and he was discovered. The robed elder, who was known never to be surprised by anything anymore, recoiled, and when pressed by her kin explained herself.
“I have never seen one before, but they are described in the ancient texts,” said the elder. “It is ban-tang—a hopper—and a very large one to be sure!”
“It’s so beautiful, Odona. Is it a good omen?” asked a youth, who addressed the elder with a term that means ‘grandmother’ in the common tongue.
“No Dondro, it is not. They come from the Underwood, where the dark things roam. It is said that place was once kinder, but when the hoppers left it became what it is today. They are all gone now, so any that still linger are no more than shadows, led in thrall by the darkened moon.”
“I see only the grace of Luna above!” said one, but Odona shook her head.
“Only those who exist outside the circle, cursed to live forever, can lay eyes upon Rula.”
“What does it want?” another asked.
“There is no greater loneliness than forever,” Odona warned them.
When the goblins heard this, they began to hurl twigs, pebbles, and all manner of roughage at Rulatani that they might shoo him away. But the Wildbun, who was as stubborn as he was solid and had endured far worse, stood firm and would not be dislodged. It came to an impasse, and the people cried out in terror that he, a specter hopelessly alone, would spirit them away.
From the gathering finally emerged not a warrior or guardsman, but a dondro—a small child whose snout was not yet mottled, and whose tusks had yet to grow in. There was no one to hold her back, for she was now alone in the world; both her parents had succumbed to the hapsan fevers, and it was they who lay upon the river raft to await their journey after life. Her countenance was bright and kissed of youth, but too young was she for the tear tracks that marred it. She approached Rulatani as her parents, who had been hunters and challenged the Wood’s depths, had taught her—with fear not as her enemy, but as her guide.
“I’m called Camil,” said she in a voice that crackled like a cricket’s harp. “I’m so sorry Mister Hopper…I didn’t mean to do it. Please don’t take anyone else away!”
Rulatani inclined his massive head to one side, and his long whiskers twitched. He made no reply, and so Camil pointed at the raft where the goblin couple lay. Beside them sat a tiny being crafted to resemble goblinkind, woven from hemp and stuffed with brush.
“Otoo (papa) made Gammy, and Otaa (mama) made her alive so she could be my friend. I gave her to them so she could guide them down the river.” Camil opened her hands, producing from each a stone that glittered blue in the light of both celestial sisters. “I kept Gammy’s eyes…I didn’t want to be alone. If you’ve come to take them back, then here they are. Please don’t take anyone else instead.”
The red light of Rula shown on one stone, but not the other. Upon the former did Rulatani place his paw, and off again was he with it in his mouth, leaving the latter to collect dew in the grass. Camil watched his puffy, tawny tail vanish into the reeds, and then grew misty when she saw what he had left behind. She gathered up the remaining stone, then whispered these words to the specter who had visited the village on the day of her parents’ journey down the River After Life:
“Thank you, Mister Hopper.”
The adults gathered round to appreciate what Camil had done with fear as her guide, and her voice faded into the night.
Rulatani, who had many bumbly, roly-poly folds to his girth, tucked the stone away in one, knowing only if his mother had looked down upon it, it was a thing worth having. He hopped down the riverbank until the village fell long out of sight, then watched quietly as the raft floated by. The strange image of sackcloth looked back at him without eyes, then lolled with the ripples and toppled into dark water.
Rulatani, who knew little of time or curses, never saw it again. Meanwhile, in the bark of every tree, the song of every bird, and the momentary smiles she received without understanding, Camil the goblin dondro did.
© 2026 Scott McCloskey ("Bunzoi", "Bunzoi.com").
Image created with GIMP/CSP support; Character designs by Jessie Greenhalgh. Bunzoi is committed to the avoidance of generated text and/or images.
