Chupacabra Part 2: The Rat Stick

Calro jumped to action, flinging his door open in such a rush that he knocked a hinge loose and the door sagged visibly. Calro grabbed the knotted wooden club, with its several iron nails protruding from random points of the cudgel, holding the uneven, leather-wrapped handle. The door shuddered back open behind Carlo’s attempt to slam it, as he moved to leave with Dergill. “Wait,” Susha called after them, popping her head back in the house as a confused Calro and a frustrated Dergill turned back around, as Susha hustled back through the battered door. “You forgot your helmet,” she thumped the iron cap onto Calro’s head, ignoring his complaint as it fit snuggly against his pointy ears. She tied the knot under his pointed chin and clicked her tusks against his.

“Can we go?” Dergill grumbled, trying not to look at the display of affection. Calro turned and nodded as his son picked up his chopping axe from where it leaned against the small, stone wall. The haft was heavier than most goblin tools, but Dergill was not a small goblin. A whole cap taller than his father and half a cap taller than any other goblin, Dergill’s manual labor and stature made him mighty, but he was not brave. Even now, his fingers trembled on the oak haft, causing the wedge bit to quiver slightly.

“Where is your helmet?” Calro inquired as he adjusted the overly cozy fit of his own. “You know you can’t do any fighting without a helmet.”

“I know,” Dergill sighed, trying to hurry his father along by increasing his own pace. “I just forgot it in my panic at discovering Mildred.”

“You remembered your chopper,” came the predictable response.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to move about defenseless with something out there that ate Mildred’s guts.” Dergill’s rapid steps helped increase his father’s speed, but it still felt like it took the two of them hours to make the quick trek. “Any suspects?” He finally asked his father as Calro made it to Dergill’s gate that rested between his stone walls.

“Wolf, or bear maybe,” Calro huffed as he gave Tarth a wave but expected no gesture in return as she was holding her son, Balro, who was slurping away at a delicious bowl of stew. Calro gave an involuntary slurp as he drooled a bit.

“Pahna,” Dergill was gesturing around to his cattle yard.

“Oh, right,” Calro hustled after Dergill before abruptly stopping. “Wait! Go get your helmet.” Dergill opened his mouth to argue. “Dergill Snorg Momgul! Go get your helmet!”

Calro gave another wave, this time receiving one from Balro as Dergill marched back into the house and returned with his iron cap, tying a sturdy knot under his strong jaw. Without another word, Dergill led Calro to where Mildred lay, still missing her innards. “I don’t think that was a wolf or bear.”

Calro’s eyes got big, “I think you might be right.” The ribs were broken open, as whatever had gone after the entrails had left the muscle and hide seemingly untouched, other than where the creature had ripped through these layers. There were hoof-like tracks all about, but Calro’s experience caught what Dergill had missed. Some of the hoof prints were sizably smaller than Mildred’s large hoof. They quickly followed the prints to a small cave that sat at the base of a cluster of hills. There was a foul odor that floated from the entrance and the grass around the mound’s base was black and flowerless. “Looks like you will be glad I made you bring the helmet because I am glad I brought my rat stick.”