I drag the bound females to the river edge, my feet splashing in the water. I have a hold of the loin cloth around their necks, that way I can hold their head above water as I cross. I don’t think there will be much of a choke effect. Their bodies tense as the water laps against them.

“Where are you taking us?” the older one asks. Her eyes are skywards while her sister’s eyes are river facing.

“The River sister …” Her words squeeze out between clenched teeth.

“We can’t cross the river. Our spirits will die and with no spirit when our body dies, we won’t join our ancestors …”

The pure superstitious terror in her voice made me pause for a moment, only a moment. I continue to pull them into the river proper.

“Return us to the forest and we swear upon our ancestors we will be your slaves, our lives to protect yours, none in our village will raise a hand against you …” she pleads, her sincerity convincing me of the promise.

“Sister, the water, we are crossing save us …” The voice willowing and thin.

Time for me to take advantage of their primitive superstitious culture.

“I drag you through the river to capture your fleeing spirits, I will command the waters to cleanse your bodies separating body from spirit so I may swallow them both …” I dunk both their heads into the water. They struggle against the terror; the water is at chest height on me, so I have firm footing and they are flailing in deep enough water to feel helpless. They splutter as I raise them, gasping for breath. I dunk them again their mouths wide open.

When I raise them again, they cough several times, the green draining from their faces gaining a bluish tinge. Their eyes are rolling around in their heads barely conscious. I dunk them again until I feel no resistance. Hurrying I gain the island and haul their bodies up. I untie the binding around their necks and begin CPR on one and then the other until eventually both revive. I ensure I am breathing air into their lungs the moment both recover.

Both stare at me, their eyes following my every movement as I release the ropes around their wrists. I stand back, my hands on my hips.

“You have drowned in the river and upon death your spirit captured in its waters, but I have claimed them and now hold them within me. Using your spirit within me I breathed life back into your bodies. If you serve me in all things, I vow, upon your deaths to breathe your spirit into your bodies so your spirit can join your ancestors. If I die your spirits will perish with me. What say you both?”

Their mouths drop open, and they share a quick glance.

“I fell into a great darkness … you say my death? When we join our ancestors, the days will be endless and the hunting forever … and yet I felt your breath within me, drawing me back from the darkness … how can you do this without command of our spirits. Promise to return our spirits to our bodies as you say, and we will serve you, we don’t wish to pass over into the dark ...”

The older sister speaks for both I believe, as the younger sister bobs her head at every word, tears streaming down her face.

I pick up the rope and loin cloth handing the loin cloth back to the older sister. Her green face glows slightly as she affixes the loin cloth in place.

I bend my knees. “Wrap your arms around my neck and I will carry you to the other bank.”

They glance at each other, lips trembling. I wait, they need to decide to trust me. I shrug and begin to stand. Two bodies leap upon mine and wrap their arms around my neck. Their feet clear the island and I plod forward and carefully into the river. I lower myself into the water, chest height again and both of my passengers’ heads are well clear. I wade-walk through the deepest water my two passenger’s arms reaching for the top of my head to keep their own above water.

As I reach shallow water, I bend my knees and then duck under the water. I briefly hear them both scream and as they release and flail about, I grab each of them by the arm and sprint for the bank. They both roll over on their backs gasping for breath. A brief swallow of water no more and yet they are terrified. I perform CPR on them both in turn, totally unnecessary of course but they don’t know that.

“The river tried to claim you, I hauled your bodies out quickly and checked with your spirits to make sure you were alive and not walking corpses never to join your ancestors.”

This speech total mumbo jumbo and yet the grateful look in their eyes speaks volumes.

“Rest with my servant.” I wave a hand in the direction of the female village goblin who stands speechless, hands on her mouth.

I stroll back towards the river.

“No Master you can’t leave us, if the river takes you, it will take our spirits.”

I look over my shoulder and they both cry rivers of tears, arms wrapped around themselves. I smile.

“I will return shortly.”

The weapons are next, held high above the water while I cross. I gift the female goblins their weapons back. The village goblin takes several steps away from them, her eyes darting about.

“They need their weapons to protect me. If they die in my service, I have promised to return their spirits to them.” The goblin huntresses briefly hug me while the village goblin still stands confused.

Next, I gather and then tether the four male goblin Hunters together by their ankles using the rope. With some effort I heave their bodies into the water and drag-float them across. I almost lose them twice when the water is up to my chin, recovering both times although their second bid for escape sorely tempts me to let them float away.

Reaching the bank, I collapse, and with a final effort roll on my back. A water skin is besides my lips and I take a drink. An offering of dried meat follows which I take and begin to chew on. Then a huntress appears each side of me taking a hand, petting it. Their eyes staring into mine.

“Bury the four hunters,” I whisper and then close my eyes.

---

The enticing aroma of sizzling flesh wakes me. I open my eyes, above me stars blink and twinkle in the night sky, camp firelight dances off to my right, East I think if I remain where I collapsed.

“Is this how you serve?”

I recognise the voice of the older sister.

“Y … yes although our Lord Hob has been busy …”

“Does any female claim his male-hood?”

The clatter of copper on copper reaches my ears.

“Well …” asks the older sister.

“He arrived in our village with fifteen of his farmers and negotiated with our … erm the Smith Hob to take twenty-one females from the village as payment and apart from cooking and using a net to trap boar he hasn’t demanded any other service.”

“Good, we are bound to his service for he has our spirits, and we will serve him in every way to ensure he keeps his oath and without competition this will be easier.”

“Sister, every … way? You mean rutting?” The new voice light and timid, the younger sister.

“The Great Shaman tells us our bodies are vessels, through which our spirits sample life and rutting is part of that. You didn’t favour your chosen in any case, did you?”

“No, there was only one meeting our mothers introducing us … umm what about you?”

“Our new Master slew him his body now buried this side of the river … I … I will miss him.” A sniffle. “He ran … an arrow in the back …”

Should I be concerned? A female and a feeling of loss not a trifle to ignore, at the very least I decide upon caution. As for rutting, certainly a long-term goal, for now though I need archers to accompany my spear carriers. The Smith’s goblins once fattened up would allow me to meet my rutting quota and if not, I will demand more.

“The one you insisted upon burying …?”

“Leave well enough alone sister, you are young and must heed your older sister, our spirits are the only thing which matters and this … Hob … has them.” Her soft words at the beginning giving way to a desperate harshness.

“The Hob chooses …” A squeak of voice protests.

Snickering laughter answers her. “What? Do you think he will choose your skin and bones over us?”

“Probably not …” the quiet response. Then with more energy she adds, “He is the Farmer Hob, you will not be the only ones he ruts with, he needs to plant his seed in many to ensure the Head Hob and the Hunter Hob have enough for their duties … and many die in childbirth, children and their mothers.”

A smacking slap echoes around the camp. “You lie. No, I now know the reason for your words, your weak skinny bodies, but my sister and I are strong, we will survive like our mother did and her mother …”

I hear a sobbing laugh. “Striking me won’t change the fact Hobs can plant large babies in a goblin and no matter how far you spread your legs the head won’t come out and many mother and child have been buried when their strength fails.”

“Sister I don’t wish to die in childbirth …”

I can imagine the older sister wrapping her arms around the younger … “He would be close and able to breathe our Spirits into us at least.”

“Ha!”

“What?” is the harsh reply.

“Hobs care little for the goblins they command, and I doubt this Farmer Hob any different, he will seed and leave like any crop, leaving the harvesting to others.”

Strangled sobbing permeates the night and while I believe this is the younger sister, I am not entirely certain she does so alone.

With the conversation exhausted I decide the time is right for me to “wake”. A moment before the soft pattering of feet approaches my dirt bed. With a sniff another lays beside me, an arm upon my chest and a leg over mine. Now what? Do I throw her off? Why am I considering her at all in this? They are goblins, they expect the Hobs to not give a rat’s arse …

“What are you doing you skinny piece of dung?” screams the older sister.  “I console my sister and you assume rights you don’t have. You are nothing but a servant. My sister and I are bound to him, we should be the ones laying with him.”

Slapping. The sister is attempting to physically remove the village goblin.

I whisper a curse under my breath. Both goblins freeze. Humph, exceptional hearing, noted. My hands strike out and strangles the neck of the village goblin who squeals in response. The Huntress takes a step back, checks the distance and takes another.

“Why do you lay beside me?” I growl.

As she gasps for breath, I release my hold slightly. “To keep you warm Lord Hob, I would presume no more. There is cooked meat which I can fetch for you …”

I climb to my feet, not releasing my grip and as I stand her feet dangle, remaining limp. She blinks her eyes once and swallows. At my leisure I lower her. “Fetch me food.” Releasing her she scampers off towards the campfire.

“You!” My index finger curls towards me several times. The older sister glances back to the younger and shuffles forward head down.

“Why would you remove my blanket?”

Her head flies up, eyes wide. “Blanket?”

My hand darts out quicker than a snake and my fingers wrap themselves around her neck. I notice her reach for and then just as quick stop, a hand hovers over her dagger.

“You would stab me?” I kink my head to one side.

“No Lord Hob, instinct only … of a huntress, my life and spirit are bound to you.”

I drag her face forward; we meet eye to eye. “You don’t touch my property unless I order you to.”

The young sister stands beside her now, eyes full of worry, arms motioning to free her from my grip and yet withdrawing.

She gasps trying to answer and I take several moments to ease my grip.

“Yes, Lord Hob. My sister and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

My left hand reaches out, wrapping fingers around the younger sister’s neck. She yelps in surprise.

“This is the last time your sister speaks for you.” Her eyes try to escape mine and I draw her face closer and squeeze. Her eyes open and unable to speak she attempts to nod. The older sister shifts under my grip, I sense she wishes to interfere and yet what if she does? What can she do? No, now is the time the one pair of sisters become two sisters. I release my grip enough to allow her to speak.

“Yes, Lord Hob I will only touch your property upon your orders, I swear.”

“Good! Now we have cleared up that misunderstanding, I smell food,” I say, releasing both strolling between them to access the campfire. Arriving just in time to receive a portion of rabbit and quickly devour the tasty morsel. As I finish my servant offers another which I accept.

“Lord Hob I would request my … would request I am permitted to lay with you tonight … to keep you warm.”

The older sister.

Without facing her, I ask, “What is your name?”

“I have no name Lord, you possess my spirit you own my name, which you should …”

“Know …” I finish. I remain at ease, not even turning to face her. “Your spirit is strong and while I am its keeper it refuses to reveal any of your secrets. Unique and perhaps some of my recent displeasure a result …”

My admission returning to both sisters some of their spiritual strength, a faint sense they are still in control. Hopelessness is only a downward spiral and I need both huntresses all in and committed to helping and supporting their Lord.

“I would have you know me as Koria, Lord Hob.”

“Such a name seems … quiet, considering you and your sister were given the task, or perhaps the honour of disposing of the intruder. I would think such a thing only for a great huntress with a magnificent name …”

She takes a few heartbeats to respond, so I look forward to the story …

“You flatter me Lord to think so highly of my prowess when you haven’t yet been a witness to judge.”

“And what of you?” I didn’t need to point or stare; I am certain the younger sister would respond and if not perhaps one less sister would work out better.

“Lord Hob, my name is Luda, and I am honoured to serve one such as yourself.”

A lot of primitive cultures add to their names based upon the feats completed or even the signs upon birth. I find their names ordinary …

“I expect nothing but your best performance when executing your duties. If I believe that isn’t the case, then your sister will suffer or if total failure … slain in your stead.”

There is a brief scuffle behind me. Perhaps one sister restrains the other? I casually swivel around to face them and hold out both of my hands as an invitation for their necks. To their credit they don’t hesitate long at all, more satisfying is one sister doesn’t check with the other as they step forward into the embrace of my fingers.

“Your spirits are mine and yet I don’t wish to make you suffer while in my service as you have much to offer if done so willingly. But … if you prove troublesome, I am resolved to slay you and venture into your tribe’s forest again and capture others.” Both slightly shift under my grasp.

Knowing the answer, I ask anyway. “Have you both eaten?” The older bites the inside of her cheek while the younger swallows and then both answer in unison, “Yes, Lord Hob.”

“Good, I will need both of you to keep me warm.” I catch the village goblin in my line of sight, “You, your name?”

“Dega, Lord Hob.” She nods and smiles.

“Tidy the camp and ensure you awake at first light and prepare a meal to break our fast.”

With a restrained excitement the two sisters lead me to a bedroll, possibly theirs, certainly not mine. I lay dead centre and each sister takes up a position on either side cuddling into me. The tidying of the camp isn’t a quiet undertaking until I believe Dega finally runs out of items to clang together.

“Dega?”

A quiet pause, then her timid voice answers, “Yes Lord?”

“Hurry and finish, I need another for warmth.”

A sharp squeak of joy and then a reply, “Yes Lord Hob.”