I hear a sob behind me.

I'm at the threshold, another step and I'll be outside.

The sobbing continues.

I haven't taken the next step.
I'm-scared-I'm-scared-I-hate-this-I-hate-this-I-want-to-go-home-I-want-to-go-home

"Please don't go."

I HATE THIS.

I don't know what to do, I'm too scared to step past the threshold. 
I turn around to look at him. 
He's sitting on his hands and knees facing away from me. I think his hands sit where the cum puddle was. By the smell, I think it's dried up at least.
"I didn't want to hurt you." He sucks mucus back up his nose.
"I knew you were awake, I knew you were watching, but I was so tired, I was only tired from the trip, tired of being alone. " 
He shifts lower on his knees.
"I knew you were scared, but I wanted to think you were excited. I stayed up afterwards, listening. I thought you were touching yourself, I thought I might not have fucked it up so much. But then I smelt your fear, and I realized I was hearing you shiver on a warm night."
I don't think I even realized shivering was audible. 
"You were going to leave. So I went out of my way to keep you happy. I spent almost 3fingers today on your clothes and meal."
I would have been much happier if you'd instead just brought me to the dock and helped me find the ship I needed.
"They all hate me." 
I don't know who 'they' are but I can imagine why. 
"I was alone, they were like you, needed help to escape something."
I don't think you've helped me escape anything.
"I wanted wives and they needed a place to stay, I thought it'd work out easily from there, but after all I did for them, none of them ever even fucking liked me!" He yelled the last 4 words. 
"Just stay please." His voice is quiet again. "I won't ever touch you, you can have your own room, I know I fucked up, went too far too soon this time, just stay, I need you, more than I ever did the others, please."
I didn't think the night would go this way. I'm still standing in the doorway. I think about what he's said to me, and everything that's happened over the last 2 days.

 Slowly, some things connect in my head.
I turn away from the man on the floor. And I speak for the first time since leaving the restaurant. 
"You're the path of least resistance.
"At every stage since I got off the boat the easiest thing to do was follow you. It was easier to pretend to be asleep when you were touching yourself, easier to be quiet than it was to call you out. Easier to act like the cum wasn't there in the morning. And act like you didn't give me the creeps when you pretended to be my grandpa, or that we were having an innocent date today. Easier to not make a scene when you pulled me along today. It's easier to deal with an elderly man sobbing than it is to deal with the guilt of leaving you alone.
"That's what you do. It's why you search out desperate women, you realized you don't need to treat people well. You just have to be easier than the consequences of leaving." 
I can't hear him sob anymore. I'm still looking onto the dark empty street.
"I'm sorry, I can't help you. I hope you find peace with yourself. But I don't want to live only taking the easiest options. I want to see what I can do on my own." 
And with that, I step out the door, 30nails left and a new outfit to my name. Or I would be if...

"What the fuck do you know about me you stuck-up goblin slut?"
I feel large hands grab me by my backpack and one of my boob sashes.
What the fuck happened to not touching me!?!
He must have snuck up while I tried to give my speech dramatically by the door. This'll be really embarrassing if I die because of a monologue. 
I don't waste any time and try to pull free. He'd grabbed boob sash number 1, luckily it comes off without much effort. I have to struggle a bit to get free of my rucksack straps though, but I pull my shoulders out of the straps before he can get another hold on me.

Slipping out of his grip, one bag and sash lighter, I sprint as fast as I can down the mostly empty street, one tit bouncing free in the wind, fuck Southerner modesty.  Just 25 metres from me is a group of orcs. I'm about to scream for help when Gordon has a similar idea. He's only a few steps behind me. Fuck orcs and their long legs.
Gordon yells "Goblin thief! Stole 3 fuckin fingers off me!" And just like that, my would-be saviours spread out to make a wall of limbs to catch me.

I had always loved the term 'islander'. It made the fact we were all mostly the same species and living in mostly the same environments seem unifying, rather than meaning that we were competing for the same finite resources.

'The competitive exclusion principle states that two species can't coexist for long if they occupy exactly the same ecological niche.'

-some Ancient probably

 Orcs were bigger, stronger and could run faster than goblins.
And when the cards were down orcs always took their own kind's side. I wondered if yelling for the guards would do anything. I have no idea if Grabosh even has guards.
For now, I'll rely on the few advantages goblins do have over orcs. Namely, we're lightweight, flexible, have a good sense of balance, have higher average fertility, the best miasma resistance and we take a very long time to starve.
Ok, the last three won't help right now but are good survival traits in general. But I can use my light body and agility.
An orc will always beat a goblin running straight, due to the length and strength of their legs. But a shorter than average she-goblin just out of adolescence, namely me, doesn't weigh 40kg soaking wet. A bull orc, high in ogre blood, is going to start weighing in off at 150kg, Gordon is probably closer to 200kg.

All to say I'm much faster at changing directions or dodging obstacles. 

I run straight at the waiting line of orcs. I pretend to be trying to make the gap between two of them, but as they start to move to intercept I change course and manage to go between one's legs. 

With the wall of orcs between us, I should be able to grow my lead. 
I hear a loud noise behind me, strangely reminiscent of skittles being knocked over, I risk a glance backwards and realize that if you're a 200kg bull orc and a line of smaller orcs, maybe in the 70-100kg range get in your way you can actually just run straight through and barely lose any speed.
Well, shit. I've barely gained another metre and we're back on the straight. I pretend to slow down a little, and then just as we pass an alley, he tries to tackle me in my sprint. I predicted this and suddenly change course 90 degrees so I'm now going straight down the alley. I hear him roar in frustration as his tackle passes through the air where I would have been, and his momentum makes him hugely overshoot the entrance to the alley. 
I panic for a second as I realise the alley is a dead end. But if I can get on the roof I'm on the home free. The shadows darken as Gordon blocks the light from the main street.
Fuck yeah, his missed tackle has given me another 20 metre lead. Ahead of me, I notice a perfectly placed windowsill I should hopefully be able to use to climb onto a first story balcony, and then onto a building's roof. As long as I'm a few meters ahead of him when I reach it I should be free.
I glance back again and almost leap for joy when I see he's still standing at the entrance of the alley, he must think because it's a dead end I have nowhere to go.

I'm panting for breath now, I don't think I've run like this since I was a girl, but just a little further.
Now close to the windowsill I leap without slowing down, I use its ledge to vault up towards the balcony. I'm almost laughing with the euphoria of escaping combined with my running high.
The urge to laugh stops when in mid-air something hard and travelling far too fast crashes into the inside of my knee.
The object shatters and the momentum and surprise put me into a spin. I miss the balcony and instead clip the side of the wall head first. I think I blanked out for half a second as I'm suddenly disoriented and rolling hard along the ground. I hope at least I haven't hit my head again as I roll to a stop.

For a moment the suddenness and adrenaline seem to keep all the pain in my body muted, except for the growing pounding in my head. 
Then like a dam bursting my body at once suddenly realizes how badly damaged it is. I'm attacked by a wave of pain from just about every place in my body. I think I convulsed for a second because after an excruciating moment, I'm facing a slightly different direction. My ears are ringing. I'm on my stomach, my head facing into the side of the street, not giving me any view of what Gordon is doing. 
Suddenly the world is motion and pain as a kick in the stomach rolls me over. As I come back to my senses I see Gordon standing over me. He looks absolutely pissed. 
Am I going to die? Despite my throbbing headache and broken skin, I feel surprisingly calm. I hit my head. Do I have a concussion? How bad am I banged up? Everything feels fuzzy now. I'm still in agony I think, but I feel disconnected from it like it was far away. The only sensation cutting through the fuzziness is the throb of my head, the ringing of my ears and a worrying coldness growing in my limbs.
Add a bit of nausea as Gordon swings me over his shoulder. My head is hanging over his back and I can see the various fluids I left where I was lying. That's a lot of blood, also I guess I puked when he kicked me. I hadn't even noticed. There's also a bit of the broken pottery I think he threw at me. 
My head bumps against his back with each step he takes making my headache somehow worse. I think the ringing in my ears is decreasing at least. Yay, I'm not deaf. I'm feeling really cold though.
Gordon stops for a second, and many angry voices all start yelling in gibberish mixed with words I only vaguely recognize. Fuck I have brain damage. 
Oh, graboshen. They're speaking Graboshen faster than I'm used to, brain might be fine.
The voices belong to the group of orcs who tried to assist in my capture, they don't sound happy that Gordon ran through them. Maybe if they're pissed at him I can get them on my side.
Gordon speaks more slowly, and I catch enough to know he's apologizing, and saying he'll take care of me himself. 

Now that he's standing still I can get a better idea of how much blood I'm losing by the cherry-coloured drips appearing on the ground beneath me, and the stain growing on Gordon's poncho. Did I mention I'm not even 40kg dripping wet? I don't have very much blood to lose. I think Gordon needs to stop speaking to the orcs and take me to a shaman.
"Mwah!" I say,  "Heh mwah!" Ok, so maybe brain damage, my tongue is as impossible to coordinate as my limbs. It's sort of just flopping around when I try to speak.
I think I might of at least succeeded in communicating that I desperately need medical attention. Gordon grunts at the orcs and starts walking again. 

A few minutes later and he's picking something off the ground, then stepping through the open door of his villa and closing it behind him. He throws my bag and my lost boob-sash into the corner I stored it originally, then with one hand pulls a mattress from the cupboard and throws it on the ground. He kicks the mattress flat then more gently places me down on my back.

What? Gonna rape me before I bleed to death? 

In my pain and concussion, I seem to of forgotten to be scared of this man.
I'm cold though, and now my head isn't being constantly bouncing against Gordon's back keeping my eyes open is suddenly hard.
I think you're meant to stay awake after a concussion. 
Gordon throws a blanket from the cupboard over me and tucks it in, which helps a bit with the cold.
Staying awake is going to be difficult. 
The last thing I see as the wool blanket's warmth takes me, is Gordon unlatching and leaving through the door to the central courtyard.