Idika and Malkadian spent the rest of the day exploring the yurt and touching any odd or interesting items they could get their tiny hands on. Or at least they made several strong attempts. Despite tending to six other infant goblins, their mother still managed to appear at just the right time when an attempt to leave the main room was made. Or when a potentially dangerous item was about to make it into their chubby hands. This routine quickly became a game for the two children, as runs for the doors and grabs for cooking knives became more frequent. But their mother’s ability to handle the chaos of so many young children, two of them being obnoxiously mobile, was truly impressive.

  The two trouble makers final play was to make a break for two different doors at the same time. A plan that took some time to communicate given their lack of speech and uncoordinated limbs that made gesturing rather difficult. Once the plan was in place the pair readied themselves, Idika oriented herself on the door closest to the kitchen area, Malkadian focused on the one nearly opposite it. With a glance backward her brother gave an impish grin, one she had become very familiar with over the course of the day, and the two took off in an approximation of a run. It was more akin to an aggressive shuffle, but the assumption they made was with two of them going in opposite directions their mother would need to focus on one, giving the other a chance to slip into a room.

  It was a solid plan, until a flash of red fur lept in front of Idika as she approached the door. The wolf. How the hell had they forgotten about the damn wolf?! With a quick snap of its jaws the little goblin child was scooped up in the beast’s maw as it happily trotted back to where the rest of the infants were. Their mother was already waiting, an annoyed Malkadian tucked under her arm. They were sat in a semicircle with their siblings and their mother placed cups in their hands. The room was filled with greedy slurps, the liquid was warm and slightly sweet and made Idikas body feel tingly all over. The more she drank the heavier her eyes felt. She was becoming concerned with how frequently sleep overcame her. Their mother wasn't drugging them, was she?

  But all cares left her mind as the last drops of her meal slid down her tongue. Belly full and body warm, her vision was blurry as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Ever so often her head nodded forward and she jolted awake. There was still so much to explore, so much she didn’t know, she couldn't waste time sleeping. But her limbs were heavy and weak. Absently she felt herself being picked up, warm arms surrounded her, the sound of a strong heartbeat made her feel safe.

  Humming filtered through the fog wrapped around her mind and she vaguely registered singing, she couldn’t understand the words but the tune was soft and comforting. Idika stared up at her mother feeling betrayed. Her mother responded with a knowing smirk. The last thing she remembered, as her body was wrapped in something soft and warm, was bright golden eyes.

  It was dark and she was warm, Idika was vaguely aware of the space around her as she drifted between sleep and waking. She was about to drift off again when a sound drew her attention. Her body stilled and she listened, it was slamming. No, pounding. Something heavy beating against wood. It was close. A slight prickle itched at the back of her neck, some deep seeded instinct that screamed danger. Her eyes shot open, the room was dim, the smoldering coals of the fire pit gave off hardly any light. In the shadowy glow her gaze darted around, searching for the source of the noise. At the opposite end of the yurt her eyes fell on the main door, the one their mother had barred and locked.

  Another bang rang out and Idika watched as the door shook. Someone was trying to break in. She felt her heart pounding in her ears. What should she do? Where was their mother? She looked around furiously she found the bed empty and no sign of the woman. Was she in another room? Idika could cry, that might be enough to get her attention. But what if she was hiding? If whoever was trying to break in thought no one was there would they leave? Or would a baby crying draw too much attention and scare them away?

  Idika felt her breath coming faster and her thoughts growing more frantic. The truth hit her like a bucket of cold water. She was a baby, there was nothing she could do to stop whoever was trying to break in, she was totally helpless. The intruders would be free to take what they liked, break what they wanted and even hurt her and her brothers and she could do nothing. The banging on the door grew more incessant, the wolf shaped lock glowed faintly for a moment and the assault stopped. She could hear hushed conversation from the other side of the door.

  Had they given up? It looked as if they were unable to get through the lock their mother had used. Relief filled her, they were safe. Her hope was quickly dashed as something heavy smashed against the door, the force caused them to shake violently and the ground even trembled a little. Panic surged in Idika’s chest once more. This time she was not alone as the thundering sound woke her siblings, startling several of them and causing them to cry. The banging seamed to increase in intensity and speed as her brothers wailed. Her mind drifted back to the midwife and the murderous intent in her eyes. These were not petty thieves, they were here to kill them.

  A cracking sound ripped through the air as the wood of the doors split. The wooden beam bowed and creaked and the lock rattled violently, the wolf head looked almost desperate to hold its grip and keep the threat behind the doors at bay. Shadowy tendrils crept from the lock, glinting slightly with a metallic sheen. They attempted to engulf the door, looking like hands desperately grasping at the wood, trying to keep it together.

  Idika could only watch as the cracks in the door grew wider, shadowy figures ever so slightly visible in the darkness beyond. The lock twisted and contorted and the tendrils quivered and strained against the assault. With one last ferocious blow, it broke. As if the lock was the only thing keeping the entrance together, the doors and the beam splintered into countless pieces. An explosion of wood and metal filled the room, the ghostly howl of a wolf echoed in its wake before it faded to nothing.

  In the doorway stood a large figure, similar in race to their father though his armor was much more spars and far more battered. In his hand was a hammer, strange symbols glowed faintly along its sides. The hammer wielding man was flanked by several other men, a few had the same massive build and large tusks, the rest were much smaller. They were slimmer and had a similar coloring to her mother, they must have been whatever species she was.

  The cry’s from her brothers increased in volume, no doubt scared by the cacophonous explosion made by the door. Where was there mother? If she was anywhere in the yurt she had to have heard the banging or her siblings cry’s. There was no way to ignore the sound of the doors shattering. That cold fear crept its way back into her chest. She wasn't here. Perhaps she knew what was coming for them and ran, or was hiding, but either way she had abandoned them.

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  Idika was overcome with too many emotions to name, ever changing waves of grief, fear and anger caught in her throat as tears silently fell from her eyes. The muscle bound leader sneered and pointed at where the infants were swaddled together, grunting out a stream of commands. Two of the smaller warriors stepped toward them, weapons drawn, in the dim light Idika saw the hatred in their eyes. This was it. They were going to die.

  The men raised their weapons high, preparing to strike, when a blur of red filled her vision. A terrified scream echoed through the room, but it was not from her or her brothers. It took a moment for Idika’s brain to make sense of what she saw. Before them stood the massive wolf with rust colored fur, hackles raised and using its body to shield the basket they laid in.

  One of the smaller men dangled from the wolf's maw, razor sharp teeth clamped down on his throat. Another had been thrown across the room with enough force to break the small table he had collided with. The rest of the intruders took several steps back as the massive animal gave a menacing growl. Then a sickening crunch came from her jaws as it bit down on the writhing man. His body went limp before she and was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, limbs posed awkwardly like a discarded rag doll.

  Another menacing growl came from the beast’s blood soaked jaws. Several of the men took another step back, as they muttered under their breath. The one wielding the hammer did not move, though Idika could see sweat coating his brow. A stream of guttural sounding words left his tusked mouth as he made wide swings with his hammer, likely in an attempt to scare the wolf. But the animal did not flinch or cower, in fact Idika almost thought she heard it exhale through its nose incredulously.

  The massive hammer wielding man seemed to take offence at his failure to intimidate a simple animal. His eyes flared and he roared and bellowed at the wolf and raised his weapon once more, but this time with the intent to strike. Idika watched in slow motion as the hammer approached them, despite the animals furocity she couldn't imagine it would be able to weather a hit from a weapon like that. Then, at the apex of his swing, there was a slight pause as his hand changed direction. The hammer thumped to the floor as the broad man stared in disbelief at the stump where his hand once was, as blood flowed from it like a geyser.

  Before anyone had a chance to recate she was there. Idika’s mother was crouched before the mountain of a man, a long curved dagger made of deep red crystal in each hand. No sound preceded her, no blur of movement, the woman simply appeared as if she had been there the whole time. Her muscles flexed, and with a twirl of her arms, one of the blades made contact with the man's meaty neck, and his head was sent rolling to the floor. The motion was so quick the body stood there for a moment, as if it hadn't quite realized it was dead, before collapsing in a heap.

  The room was silent for a moment. Then chaos erupted. The two other large tusked men charged their mother, weapons drawn and eyes wild. She dodged their attacks effortlessly, spinning out of the path of their frantic swings, her movements more akin to dancing then a martial art. Her smaller frame allowed her to get in close where she threw several slashes in such quick succession her arms were a blur. The only thing that was clear was the aftermath of strategic gouges that founted blood, leaving the men grasping at their throats desperate to stop the flow.

  Some of the smaller men made a break for the yurst open doorway. Their attempt at retrete was met with the appearance of large metal darts in the back of their spines. The men collapsed to the floor and those that remained stood frozen in fear. Fighting was useless, and retreat impossible, the only fate that awaited them was death. Then it was over.

  Idika felt herself inhale, she hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath, the entire encounter had lasted mere moments. The floor was strewn with limbs, bodies and weapons. Amidst it all stood her mother, blood covered her deel and face, none of it her own. Her eyes glowed and a red mist floated around her blades. The massive wolf trotted up to her, their mother smiled, said something in a soft tone and patted the animal on its head.

  The cries of her brothers broke the unnatural silence. The smile on her mother’s face dropped, her brows pinched together as she made her way over and knelt down beside their basket. Her voice was low as she shushed them and began humming, muttering what Idika assumed were words of comfort.

  Her mother reached into a nearby drawer and withdrew a stick of incense. The tip suddenly flickered with a small spark and started to smoke. Idika blinked, but there was no match or any other tool in her mother's hands, only the incense stick. She placed it in a holder atop the set of drawers and smoke appeared to slither and surround them. Its sent was earthy yet sweet, and almost immediately Idika felt a sense of calm wash over her.

  The fear and confusion rattling around in her head went quiet, her racing thoughts stopped and as her mother hummed a soft tune she felt her eyes drifting shut. A part of her mind attempted to yell, to scream that there was still danger. It banged at her skull desperate for her to stay awake, but the smoke won as her eyes closed and sleep overtook her.

  It was an odd sensation. The feeling of being asleep, but also somewhat aware of what was going on around her. The clearest thing in her mind were the sounds. The dull clang of metal on the rugg covered floor, something being dragged further and further away, the distant echo of tools. Occasionally her eyes would flutter open for a moment or two, she saw one of the men, his head lolled backward at an angle that didn't look quite right. Weapons were strewn about the floor, the strange hammer lay abandoned surrounded by metal shards.

  Attempts to keep her eyes open failed and blackness overcame her again. Then there was more clanging, metal on metal, and the room felt slightly warmer. The sharp sound of a blade being sharpened, her mother’s voice was low and muttering from somewhere far off. She tried to piece together the sights and sounds but something else overwhelmed her senses. A smell like iron permeated everything, so thick she could taste it.

  When the smell finally dissipated enough for her to focus on anything else she managed to open her eyes again. The room was a dim blue, Idika guessed it must have been shortly before dawn. The room was pristine, no sign of the men in armor or crude axes and daggers, not even dirt on the rugs. Had it all been a bad dream? It must have been. But she wasn't convinced. As her eyes drifted across the room it just felt . . . off. She couldn't put her finger on it but the space felt different somehow.

  Across the room she spotted the double doors with the beam to keep them closed. They looked perfect, not a scratch, as if they were brand new. But the wolf head lock was nowhere to be seen. Continuing to take in the space she noticed the odd empty spot where a pot once stood, now nowhere to be found. And while she couldn't be sure she thought that there were a few missing ruggs near the fire pit.

  Every observation struck her like a rock between her eyes, but a voice in her head made a rebuttal or excuse for each oddity. She must be misremembering. Maybe her mother just moved things around. It was just lingering paranoia from her bad dream. Idika had almost convinced herself when her eyes fell on the small chest of drawers nearby and saw the stump of a smoldering incense stick sitting atop it. Her heart hammered in her ears.

  It had to be a coincidence. Maybe she had woken up in the middle of the night and seen their mother light it and her sleep addled brain merged it with the dream. All of this was circumstantial and could easily be her paranoia getting the best of her. So far she had yet to see any real proof that anyone had entered the yurt last night. Much less that there had been any sort of violent struggle.

  As her brain scrambled in an attempt to calm herself down, the sound of footsteps drew her attention to the left side doorway. The woven flap fluttered and her mother entered the room carrying a large clay pot. It had a cloth draped over its opening and a braided cord wrapped around the neck of the pot to keep it sealed. Idika could hear the faint sloshing of liquid coming from it, judging by the dull sound she assumed it was nearly full. Though she doubted her guess, as the pot looked like it could easily hold ten gallons, and their mother walked with an unhindered stride looking completely unbothered.

  Idika watched as she carried the vessel to the kitchen area and stacked it on top of two other jars. She was surprised it had escaped her notice on her first inspection of the room. The jars appeared to be uniform in size and color and all were sealed in the same manner. Had their mother gone to get water? But from what she saw the main water basen she used was still full. Maybe there had been a storm last night and the jars were collected rain water. But she didn't remember hearing any rain or thunder.

  As she pondered this her mother finished placing the new addition to the stack of jars and turned to make her way back to the side room. When she did this Idika was able to take her in fully and what she saw caused her stomach to drop. Her mother wore her usual simple red deel, hair braided in intricate patterns with beads and metal rings interwoven, golden eyes almost luminescent in the early morning sun that was now rising. And draped over her front was a simple cloth apron, covered in deep crimsons stains.

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