As the sun climbed to its zenith, Kurzadh strolled through the tribe, his hands tucked into his sleeves.
In the open area at the center of the valley, the Chief's house was halfway built—a framework of a dozen thick logs stood, with thatch piled nearby. Dragu was squatting on the ground, directing the goblins to tightly bind the crossbeams with grass ropes.
Zaggur led a few hobgoblins, plastering mud onto the logs, unevenly but effectively filling most of the gaps.
"Tie it slower! Don't pull too tight, the wood will crack!" Dragu's voice was hoarse from shouting, and he still clutched a grass rope as a demonstration. "How many times have I told you, wrap it three times before tying the knot!"
The hobgoblins squatted on the crossbeams, their short legs dangling in the air, their claws gripping the grass rope and pulling hard. Their faces were flushed green with effort, and they chirped in response, but their movements remained clumsy.
Kurzadh watched from below, saying nothing—clumsy as they were, not one of them was slacking off. Even the clumsiest, the Lopeared hobgoblin, was on tiptoe, handing grass ropes to the hobgoblins on the crossbeams, and would even slap himself if he handed the wrong one.
A sense of warmth spread through his heart.
From the initial twelve hobgoblins crowded in a cave to the current fifty-plus green-skins building the Chief's house, life was like adding fuel to a stove, slowly burning brighter.
Just as he was absorbed in watching, a sudden burst of "Waaagh!" cheers erupted from the valley entrance, startling the sparrows in the trees, which fluttered up and flew away. Kurzadh paused, then turned to look at the entrance—this commotion was even crazier than when they built the statue. What good news could it be?
He saw two hobgoblins carrying a furry object rushing into the valley, their green little faces smudged with grass, their eyes shining as if polished.
Only when they got closer could he see clearly: they were carrying a goat, with dusty grey fur, one horn broken, and a bulging belly. It looked like it had only recently died, still covered in dirt.
"Oh my god!" Kurzadh was startled and quickly went to meet them.
Goats were extremely cunning; they ran like arrows in the forest, and their ears were sharp, able to hear movement from ten meters away. For a green-skin to catch a goat was almost like chasing the wind—yet these two hobgoblins actually brought one back?
"Chief! Chief! Look!" The hobgoblin carrying the goat was named "Zaggur," brought by Zaggur. He was usually quiet, but now he was so excited he could barely speak. He put the goat down, patted his chest, and exclaimed, "We found it!"
The hobgoblin next to him, named "Stumpy," also nodded: "We really found it! We're not lying!"
Kurzadh squatted down and touched the goat—its body was still soft, and there was a gash on its neck, stained with blood, which didn't look like it was from a stone spear.
"How did you find it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "How could you two possibly find something like this?"
Zaggur scratched his head, a little embarrassed: "Well... just now, we were walking in the forest, and we heard a 'thump' sound. We ran over and saw this guy had crashed into a tree! Its head was broken, and it wasn't breathing!" He pointed to the goat's head, where there was indeed a bloody hole. "So we carried it back!"
Kurzadh looked at the hole in the goat's head and then at the two hobgoblins' simple expressions, and they didn't seem to be lying.
He was about to praise them when Stumpy suddenly tugged his arm, saying eagerly, "Chief! Not just this! We were patrolling in the forest just now and saw a lot of goats! Running north, a vast black mass!"
"How many is 'a lot'?" Kurzadh's heart skipped a beat.
"At least four or five hundred!" Stumpy gesticulated wildly. "They ran with a 'thump-thump' sound, stirring up the forest! Birds flew up, like a battle!"
Four or five hundred? Kurzadh's eyes instantly lit up.
It was just early summer now, so goats should be grazing by the river. Why would they suddenly migrate north? He pondered this, but didn't have time to dwell on it—regardless of why they were migrating, if they could catch a few of these many goats to raise, the tribe wouldn't have to worry about meat anymore! Before, relying on fish and mushrooms, the green-skins weren't starving, but they lacked fat in their diet and were as thin as kindling. With goat meat, they would surely grow stronger.
"Did you see clearly which path they took?" Kurzadh grabbed Zaggur, asking urgently, "Did they cross the river? Or did they run along the edge of the forest?"
Zaggur stumbled from the pull, then quickly nodded: "They ran along the edge of the forest! They didn't cross the river! They ran along the small path next to the logging camp! We followed them for a bit, and they weren't running fast, as if waiting for those behind them!"
"Good!" Kurzadh slapped his thigh, stood up, and shouted, "Dragu! Dragu! Get over here!"
Dragu was squatting under the crossbeams of the Chief's house, scolding the hobgoblins for being clumsy. Hearing the shout, he quickly ran over: "What's wrong, Chief? Why are you shouting so urgently?"
"I'll give you two days to weave fifty ropes!" Kurzadh pointed to the goat on the ground. "They need to be strong! Twist the grass ropes thicker, and if it's not enough, unravel old ropes and re-twist them!"
Dragu paused, looked at the goat on the ground, then at Kurzadh: "Weave ropes for what? To catch goats?"
"Less talk! Just weave them when I tell you to!" Kurzadh glared at him. "If you don't weave them, you won't eat goat meat tonight!"
"Alright!" As soon as Dragu heard "eat goat meat," he immediately agreed and turned to run towards the lean-to, shouting as he ran, "Hoarear! Take ten hobgoblins to twist ropes! Twist hard! Make them thick!"
Kurzadh ignored him, turning to the surrounding green-skins who had gathered: "Everyone come over! There's work to do!"
The green-skins were already drawn by the goat, and hearing there was work to do, they immediately crowded over. The hobgoblins stood on tiptoe to look at the goat, while the hobgoblins rubbed their hands, waiting for Kurzadh's command.
"The day after tomorrow, we go catch goats!" Kurzadh pointed to the forest to the north. "Four or five hundred of them! Catch them and raise them, and we'll have meat to eat every day from now on!"
"Waaagh!" The green-skins instantly erupted, raising their claws and shouting, "Catch goats! Eat goat meat!" Zaggur shouted the loudest, almost drooling—he had only eaten goat meat twice in his life, and those were stolen, so he had long forgotten what it tasted like.
Kurzadh waved his hand to quiet them: "Don't just shout! Goats are very cunning; you definitely won't catch them by just chasing them! We need methods!" He squatted on the ground, using the tip of his stone spear to draw a circle for a goat, and then a few crooked lines. "See? These are ropes, made into snares, laid on the ground. When a goat steps in, it can't run away!"
When he was a child, he used to herd sheep with his grandfather in the countryside and knew how to catch goats with snares—find a soft rope, tie a slipknot, lay it on a path goats frequently used, cover it with grass, and when a goat stepped in, the snare would tighten around its leg when it tried to run, and it couldn't break free.
"And this!" He drew a long pole. "Find a long stick, tie a rope to one end, and when a goat runs by, trip its leg with it, and it will fall!"
The green-skins squatted on the ground, watching, their eyes wide and round.
The hobgoblins crowded close, almost knocking over the stone spear tip, and Kurzadh pushed them away with a paw.
"Zaggur, Stumpy, you two come over!" Kurzadh pointed to the two hobgoblins. "The day after tomorrow, you two lead the way; don't get lost!"
"Aye!" The two hobgoblins quickly nodded, their chests puffed out high.
"Zaggur!" Kurzadh called again. "You take twenty hobgoblins and go scout the small path next to the logging camp tomorrow! Find the paths the goats frequently use and mark them! Don't alarm them!"
Zaggur immediately agreed: "Don't worry, Chief! I guarantee we'll mark them!"
"The rest of you!" Kurzadh scanned the other green-skins. "Follow Dragu and twist ropes! Whoever twists slowly won't go catch goats the day after tomorrow!"
"Squeak! Squeak!" The hobgoblins immediately ran towards Dragu, afraid of falling behind.
The hobgoblins also ran, some helping to hand grass, others squatting on the ground twisting. The valley instantly became lively again, the rustling sound of twisting ropes and the shouting of the green-skins mixing together, even more cheerful than when they were building the house.
Kurzadh squatted on the ground, looking at the goat that had crashed to its death, pondering—first, catch twenty or thirty to bring back, fence off a piece of land by the valley, have the hobgoblins watch them, and throw some grass and mushrooms into the enclosure every day; they would surely survive.
With sheep, not only would there be meat to eat, but the wool could also be saved. In the future, perhaps they could weave wool mats, which would be more comfortable than thatch lean-tos.
"Chief! How do we eat this goat?" Dragu, twisting a rope, suddenly looked up and shouted, "Roasted or boiled?"
"Roasted!" Kurzadh said without hesitation. "Skin it, put it over the fire to roast! Sprinkle some chopped mushrooms!"
"Waaagh!" The green-skins became even more excited, their rope-twisting hands moving so fast they were almost a blur.
As the sun began to set, Dragu indeed led his people to twist over twenty ropes. Although they were crooked and some weren't even knotted, they were at least usable.
Kurzadh had the hobgoblins drag the goat to the bonfire. Dragu took a stone spear and poked at the goat, trying to skin it, but the spear was too dull. He poked for a long time without breaking the skin, making him sweat with frustration.
"Idiot! Use a stone to smash it!" Kurzadh kicked him and handed him a sharp stone.
Dragu, holding the stone, finally managed to skin the goat, revealing the red, oily meat inside, which made the green-skins swallow their saliva.
Kurzadh told him to put the goat over the bonfire, skewering it with tree branches, and roast it slowly.
In a short while, the aroma of meat wafted out, ten times more fragrant than roasted fish. The green-skins squatted in a circle around the bonfire, their eyes glued to the roasting goat, not daring to even breathe loudly.
"It's done! It's done!" Dragu shouted, using the stone spear to pick the roasted goat off. Just as he was about to stuff it into his mouth, Kurzadh smacked his hand with the shaft of the spear.
"Give it to the little hobgoblins first!" Kurzadh glared at him. "And the new ones!"
Dragu quickly tore the roasted goat into small pieces and handed them to the little hobgoblins squatting on the very edge.
The little hobgoblins held the meat, cautiously putting it into their mouths. It was so hot they grimaced, but they couldn't bear to let go, eating with oil all over their faces.
Kurzadh also took a piece of meat and bit into it—although there was no salt, it was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, much more delicious than fish soup and mushrooms.
He watched the green-skins eat happily, and his earlier doubts vanished—no matter why the goats were migrating, catching them was the main thing.
"The day after tomorrow, everyone give it your all to catch them!" Kurzadh shouted, chewing his meat. "The more we catch, the more goat meat we'll have every day!"
"Waaagh!" The green-skins shouted, holding up their meat bones, their voices shaking the bonfire so much that sparks flew up.
The statue of Gork and Mork stood in the center of the valley, the skull in its mouth gleaming in the firelight, as if it too was looking at the roasted goat, anticipating the hunt the day after tomorrow.
Kurzadh gnawed on a meat bone, looking at the lively scene before him, and suddenly felt that being the Chief of the hobgoblins wasn't so bad after all.
At least, he could have meat to eat every day and lead his little brothers to make a big stir, which was better than facing reports all day in his previous life.
He grinned, then took another big bite of goat meat.
The day after tomorrow, they had to do a good job!