Fae and Fare (The Wandering Inn, #2)

by Pirateaba

them. He would have preferred to burn the entire city down, but Rags had overridden him. Now he folded his arms and spoke to her as he watched their tribes racing through the city. “They will never forgive us for this. Even what you have done is not enough.” Rags nodded. She stared at the burning wreckage and looked at the bodies on the ground. So few of her own, but too many. And there were countless dead. Humans lay where they had fallen, bristling with arrows. Goblins shared their space too; they lay in clumps or in bits, where Garen’s elites had forced them into desperate clumps before hacking them apart. Either way, there was too much death here. Too much, to too little point. When had she started thinking like that? Rags didn’t know. But it was different, to think of things in terms of cost and gain rather than simply life and death. There was still a large part of Rags that didn’t care if every Human died. But the rest of her, the part of her that had learned, knew that this would only make living here more difficult for her tribes. Moreover, it might mean the Humans would send armies against her tribe rather than the real enemy. Rags’ eyes narrowed as she saw a cluster of her Goblins break off from the main stream and crash into what looked like a blacksmith’s shop. Good. She hoped they wouldn’t try to grab the anvil though; they already had one.

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