Dawn spread its long bright fingers over the wasteland, groping for each living thing there. When it found Very Small Numbers, Chicken was already awake and moving.

“Penelope!” he called, walking among the huts and lodges. “Penelope!”

She hadn’t been at the waiting spot, and he wondered briefly if he should have told her ahead of time where that had been. In any case, he had to find her soon if she was to join him. His feet drew him towards Auntie’s tent, the grand high Knower of Things. He found the hut inert and sleepy. Auntie was not a morning kobold, as the rest of the village well-knew. Looking for Penelope here would be done at his own peril. He pushed back the flap cautiously, illuminating the room a little at a time.

At first, he sent just a spear of dull grey morning light, pushing the flap aside only a little. He saw only hanging dry ingredients and a dirt floor. He widened the gap, spilling more light into the room.

“Penelope?” he whispered, worried someone inside would hear him.

He saw pots and tubs, but no sign of life. If he pressed further, it increased his chance of waking Auntie. But he needed to find Penelope, so he steeled himself and drew the flap further aside.

Something grabbed his elbow causing him to yelp and turn around.

“It’s a good morning, Chicken,” someone said.

The someone happened to be Pithy. “Do you need something from Auntie?” she asked. She seemed oblivious to her having just caused Chicken to jump out of his scales.

She continued, “You usually leave before daylight. Did you forget something and have to come back?”

“I’m looking for Penelope,” he whispered. “We’d planned for her to come with me.”

“Salander is letting her go with you?” the young kobold asked, tilting her head.

“He hasn’t given her permission to do anything since she arrived,” Chicken said irritably, “But I’m sure he’d be ecstatic to find she’s gone.” He crossed his arms.

“Ecstatic to find who’s gone?” a voice said behind him.

****

Penelope was sitting in front of a thing she was rubbing with a stone. It made prolonged ssshhk ssshhk noises as she drew the stone along the length of the thing. Laid out beside her on a crude mat were a variety of other stones, all roughly hand-sized, and small bowls each filled with some liquid or gel. She was sitting in the shade of a rock out of sight of the village as she worked. The thing before her was long, thin, and intermittently shiny grey and rough red. She had secured it on its back, insomuch as a thing like this could have a back, with its leading edge pointing towards the cloudless sky.

It had been some time since Penelope had taken up residence in Very Small Numbers. She used the moment and dull repetitive task to reflect on her stay.

Her verdict was that this place was alien to her.

Sure, she could speak the language and eat the food, but the kobolds were different from her own people. They were primitive. There was not a single prisoner among them to perform labor. In the few weeks she had been with them, they had only gone on a single hunt. When they returned with only one slain beast, they rejoiced. They aided one another without contest, where her own people bred strength in their numbers by doing the opposite.

The orc girl sat in the shade, her arm drawing the rock from one end to the other, picking it up, and starting again. The rough red gradually flaked away, showing more shiny grey in its place.

She felt the understanding click into place. These kobolds screamed weakness to her. Where her people struggled against each other to claw their way to the top social and physical standing, these kobolds provided for one another, doing the work so another would benefit. And now they had included her in their debauchery. Don’t they understand, like she did, that you don’t get something from nothing?

She would have to show them a new way. A way that would work.

The noises stopped as she paused to consider her next move, which was to nod and put the rock on the mat. She wet her thumb in a bowl and rubbed it over one of the other rocks present before selecting it and returning to her task. Slowly the new rock was drawn over the thing in front of her.

ssshhk…ssshhk…ssshhk

****

Chicken turned around to see who had spoken. Salander stood with his fists on his hips.

While Chicken babbled, unable to form words, Pithy said sternly, “We’re talking about Penelope. Chicken’s right. You’ve been making it hard on her since she got here.”

He made a sour face. “And how exactly have I been making it difficult for the orc?” This question he directed at Chicken, who was still floundering.

“You accused her of thieving,” Pithy said.

Salander scoffed. “I did no such thing.”

“Yes you did! You set up those new cubby rules and everything when Oreson said that rock-moving stick was missing.”

“Well, yes, I did, but when things start disappearing-“

“You said we had to mark our cubbies with one of our own scales. Penelope can’t have a cubby because she doesn’t have scales!”

“That was an oversight,” Salander snapped. “Anyway, I didn’t actually say it was the orc’s doing.”

Under his breath, Chicken said, “You might as well have.” Then he saw Salander’s eyes narrow, apparently having heard him.

“I can’t believe you two. After all I’ve done for this orc already, and here you are acting like it’s one of us.”

“All you’ve done? Since when do you do anything, Salander? You stalk around the camp and boss us around. Move this, shuck that, knap these.” Chicken looked at Pithy, surprised at her rant. Salander’s eyes had grown wide, too. “Maybe put in some work first, then you can complain about what we’re doing for Penelope.”

Salander crossed his arms and looked at her like a herpetologist discovering a rare and venomous species of snake that had suddenly appeared in his living room.

“I don’t have to stand for this,” he said quietly before walking off. He stopped and turned back. “None of you know the danger that orc poses to our community, but I’m doing something about it.” And with that he left.

Chicken and Pithy stood in silence as the morning light gathered around them.

“What do you think he meant by that?” Chicken said finally.

“Maybe he did something already and that’s why we can’t find Penelope!” Pithy said, sudden worry in her voice.

Chicken crossed his arms and thought. “No, because he didn’t know she was missing. He acted like someone making a plan, not having just gone through with a plan.”

The flap to the tent came back and a horrific monster appeared, with gimlet eyes and sharp teeth.

“Stop arguing outside my tent!” it said. The monster was Auntie. She saw it was Chicken and Pithy, which gave her enough pause for the sleep to creep back into her. She groaned. “It’s light already?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Auntie, do you know where Penelope is?” Chicken asked quickly.

“Hrm? Penelope?” She blinked a few times and coughed. “She woke me up earlier, picking up her goblin sword and kit. I think she went out over yon ridge to clean it.”

Chicken looked in the direction she indicated. A path wound up behind a wall of rock on one edge of the village. “Thanks Auntie!”

“Have fun scavenging. I’m going back to sleep,” she said with a tired slur before returning to the dark. Chicken went off to find his mentee.

She was coming down the path when he got there. A sword hung from her belt as she carried a rolled up mat.

“Chicken,” she said when she saw him. It was said neither happily nor coldly, merely in acknowledgement. He had come to accept that this was merely her way.

“We’ve got to go,” he said, failing to keep impatience out of his tone.

“I need to put up the blade sharpening kit. I will only be a moment going to Auntie’s.”

“There’s no time. The herd is going to pass us by before we can get out there. My cubby’s on the way out, you can leave it with me.”

“Are you sure? If I’m caught pulling it out of your cubby later, I’ll get in trouble. Like when Shrub took that pouch of sling bullets from Jonesy.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t. I was just talking with Salander about how dumb his new rule is.”

“Dumb or not, I’m not going to break it. You’ll need to get it out for me next time I want to do more sharpening.”

“Yes, ok. Let’s hurry.”

Before long, they were at Chicken’s cubby. It was a small hole in the rock, just big enough for two hands, and just above it, embedded in the rock, was one of Chicken’s scales.

“I’ll stand over here while you work,” Penelope said, holding out the roll. Chicken took it and set it aside the hole. He reached into the cubby and took out a small carved container, a handful of fist-sized quartz gems, and a large mushroom. He put the sharpening kit inside, and then returned the other items before dusting off his hands and standing up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, but then pointed at her waist. “You won’t need that. Do you want to leave it too?”

Penelope looked horrified.

“I-… I think I’ll keep it all the same,” she said curtly.

Chicken shrugged in consent. He also shrugged off a densely woven wicker backpack, one of the two he had strapped to him, and handed it to her. “You’ll need this.”

She held it up and looked inside. There was a bundle of light leather. When she pulled it out, it turned out to be two leather bags.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“You’ll need it,” he said again. “Best to carry the bags in the backpack until we’re headed back.” He started walking away from the village.

She stuffed the bags back inside, swung the pack onto her back, and followed.

Trekking through the wastelands was much less a leisurely walk than it was a horizontal rock-climb. Chicken and Penelope strode, clambered, strafed, hopped, teetered, and toddled their way in a roughly southerly direction. Neither spoke as they travelled, Chicken for lack of habit, always scavenging alone, and Penelope for a very different reason. He noticed how stiffly she moved, out in the wilderness. Not in an unskilled way, but cautiously, like she was expecting something unpleasant.

Once, a rock had bounced weird, making a distinct noise. Penelope’s hand had gone immediately to her sword and had almost drawn it. As quickly as she had reacted, she had simply gone back to climbing.

Even when they had stopped for a meal, which Chicken had been carrying in his own pack, she seemed almost nervous.

He peeled an egg and stuffed it in his mouth, saying, “I like your enthusiasm. It’ll keep you safe on the more dangerous trails.”

It was at that moment that something stirred behind them. Penelope drew her sword and whirled. She held her foe in stunned silence. Its nose twitched.

“It’s just a hippity hop,” Chicken said. It was enough to break whatever spell had been placed over the small camp and the floppy-eared rodent bounded away.

Penelope sat down, not even watching it as it ran away. “I feel this trail is treacherous enough. I keep waiting for your test, but it never comes.

“My test?” Chicken said through another mouthful of egg.

“The reason to bring me out here.” She seemed shocked. “You had some reason to bring me along. When you told me I wouldn’t need my weapon, I feared you would require me to take down our quarry with my bare hands. I feel ashamed to have brought a weapon.”

Chicken swallowed. “I had figured you brought it for protection, but this trail is too tricky for howlers and too open for prowlers. Howlers like flat ground for a turn of speed.”

Thoughts clicked into place for Penelope, and her horrified look returned. “We must seek something truly abominable, then.” She shook the fear off and said haltingly, “I-… I will do my best. We will exalt in their blood.”

Chicken tossed something to Penelope, who caught it on impulse. It was the last boiled egg.

“If there’s blood in what we’re after, we’ve got bigger problems,” he said. “We’re after those.” He pointed off in the direction of some flat land. Several lumbering shapes were crawling along the horizon. Herd beasts.

Penelope watched them in silence before turning to Chicken.

“We’re not after the howlers or prowlers?”

Chicken shook his head.

“We’re not… charging those things?”

“Are you crazy? We could get killed doing that.”

Penelope sat down, processing what he had been telling her all along. It was completely alien to her, like it had descended from above in a hub cap and stepped out to show off its splotchy skin and eye-stalks. She allowed the relief to take over.

“Thank Ogg,” she said as the tension ran out. “I thought it was like one of father’s hunts. Having avoided those for so long I guess I expected it here.”

“Would you really have attacked those herd beasts if I asked?”

She met his gaze and said, “For you? Unflinchingly.”

“Would you do something worse?”

She looked perplexed. “Worse?”

He pointed out at the beasts again. “That’s what we’re here for. Grass eaters make a lot of it.”

“What? I don’t see it. All I can see is where they’ve trampled and-…” It took only a moment for her to pick up on what he was saying. She made a face.

“It’s good fuel for the fire, and why we have the bags and backpacks. We’ll have to cover our scent to get close enough.”

“Cover our scent with what?”

He gave her a look.

“Oh.”

****

Penelope and Chicken crept back into Very Small Numbers in a dingy haze, their packs and bags full. They off-loaded at the fire.

“There’s nobody here,” Penelope said. It was true. The village was empty.

“Maybe they’re just avoiding us.” He gestured at the fuel they had gathered. “Auntie will know what’s going on.” He rubbed himself down with some loose and gritty dirt from the extinguished fire before heading to her hut.

Pulling the flap aside, he entered. “Auntie, where is-…” Once inside, Chicken saw Auntie and Salander. They were on their knees with their hands behind their backs. They had gags on.

“You’re back,” a voice said behind them. A deep, male orc voice.