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The sound of leaves crunching filled the air as a herd of hooves ran through the forest. Orange, yellow, and red leaves covered the ground and floated down from the sky as they ran. Tiny hooves pattered in different directions, running as fast as their tiny legs could take them.
They had to run fast, or they would get caught. The village grew farther and farther as they ran. Trees, bushes, logs, holes, they hid wherever they thought they were safe. Soon, the crunching stopped. The only sounds were the howling of the wind.
Then, it began again. A single, heavier pair of hooves crunched the leaves below them into smithereens. The large figure lurked around the forest, casting a large shadow over everything. The little ones had to be quiet, lest they risk being caught.
A shrill squeal; one down.
The forest was large, but they knew the boundaries. Don’t go past the river, that was the rule. It might seem large and limitless, but there were only so many places a kid could hide….
Another squeal; two.
They had learned all the best spots to hide. The spots where they could squeeze and blend in. They learned how to listen. How to run away. How to squirm they’re way free. But it was never enough.
Another squeal; three.
The final little kid was hiding in a log, trying to keep her breathing quiet. She didn’t move. She stayed low to the ground. She could hear the lumbering footsteps in the distance. The log was cramped and dirty, but it would have to do.
She held her breath as the footsteps grew closer. Crunch…crunch…crunch. They were right next to her now. She knew it. They paused. Everything was quiet. She stayed motionless and didn’t dare to even move her eyes.
Then the footsteps began to retreat.
She gave a small sigh of relief. Unfortunately, it was a victory celebrated too soon as a hand grabbed her by her little scruff and pulled her from her log. She yelped and squealed. “No fair!!”
Her older sibling gave a deep cackle, for they had won this game of hide and seek.
They held her under their arm, now having two siblings under each. The goat turned on their heel and began to lug their siblings back, some whining, some laughing.
The sun was beginning to set when they got back. One by one, Goat dropped each of their siblings onto the soft grass. The four got into a line.
“Rematch!!” One of them cried, his mix-matched eyes full of determination.
“Yeah!!! We can find better spots!” Another one claimed, the ends of her dress stained with mud and dirt.
“Cmon Cal! pleaseeee?” The third one pleaded, stamping his foot.
“We need a rematch!” The last one demanded, her pout evident.
Goat chuckled and pushed through the four. “Nope. Sun’s going down. You know what pops said. Be back before dark.” They reminded the four energetic kids, gently scooting them along with them. The four whined and pouted the whole way back, but soon a familiar cottage came into view. A home.
Goat could see the smoke from the chimney, and was quick to smell whatever their father was cooking. It smelled good whatever it was. The kids agreed as well, quickly darting off from Goat’s side and entering into the cottage one by one.
They smiled softly as they watched them go, turning around and facing the forest. Goat had always had dreams of exploring the world. There was so much out there to see and do…yet they were confined to this tiny little village, entrapped in a river. What was stopping them from crossing the shallow waters?
Their loyalty.
They knew they could never leave their family. Their father needed them, and so did their siblings. They were an essential part of their family’s life, and they knew it. They watched as the sun dipped down the horizon, taking a deep, long breath.
“Caliban!!”
Goat’s ears perked as they turned their head. Their father stood in the doorway of the cottage, a bowl in hand. They smiled and walked their way back, stepping from the cool autumn chill into the warmth of the house. The entire house was bathed in a warm, orange glow. Four kids sat at the table, eating and rambling about the day’s events.
Goat smiled before they felt their father’s hand pinch their ear. The elder goat was staring at a freshly formed nick in their ear, a twinge of disappointment on his face.
“Caliban. What have I told you about picking fights?” He spoke in a stern, scolding tone as he let go of their ear. They rubbed it with a sigh. It wasn’t even that deep of a nick. They personally thought he was being dramatic.
“He picked a fight with me!” They argued. “Besides, I won anyways.” They grumbled. They looked up at their dad and met his disappointed gaze. They felt a pang of pain in their heart. They knew that look. They sighed quietly. “I’m sorry pop.”
Their dad stared before letting out a deep, long sigh. He ruffled their hair between their horns. “I love you Cal, but you can’t keep doing this.” He spoke in a quiet tone. Goat nodded slowly as they kept their head down.
Their dad stayed quiet before tapping their chin. “Hey, chin up. I made your favorite tonight. You’ve been working hard yknow.” He spoke quietly and slowly.
Goat smiled softly. They nodded slowly and met their father’s gaze. “Thanks pop.” The elder goat patted their back before limping off to the table. Goat followed behind. They took their seat at the end of the table. A wooden bowl filled with their favorite soup. Little carvings of goats decorated the bowl with a name carved around the rim. ‘Caliban’.
Goat smiled as they lifted their head and stared at the others around them. Two kids on either side of the table, girls on one, boys on the other. Their father at the end, right across from them. Their mother’s portrait right in the middle of the table. Goat felt their heart warm. While they yearned to travel, they knew they couldn’t bring themself to. It was a childish dream after all. They belonged here, with their family.
Every day it was the same routine. Goat wakes up early in the morning. They help their father in the farms. Then they go to the market and buy whatever their family needs. They help their neighbors, lugging heavy stuff around or moving furniture. They come home for lunch, then they go right back to work. They work til noon, where they come home and play games with their siblings. Then once the sun goes down, they come home and eat dinner. They tuck their siblings in and go to sleep themself. This was their life, and they never got tired of it. And they never will.
“Remember. Remember what they have taken from you, my dear vessel.”
Goat held the skull in their hands, shifting it around. They took a shaky uneven breath as they lifted their head and stared at the empty, dusty table. Bowls long since abandoned, chairs cold and cracked. They placed the skull back where they found it, slowly walking to the chair at the end of the table.
They lifted the wooden bowl into their hands, it’s cool surface grounding them. Reminding them that yes, they are still alive. That this isn’t some sick twisted nightmare or afterlife. They slowly sat down in the chair, just as they did all those years ago. Their clawed thumb gently traced the lettering still carved into the bowl.
Caliban.