A/N: Reviews are always welcome. Although this is a story first, it's also a means to improve my writing.

As he raised his right hand, stone gripped casually and eyes narrowed, Nickolaus drew his left under his leather cape to ward off the cold. Gransys was usually pleasantly warm, but the mist creeping through the forest that morning lent an uncommon bite to the air.

"D'you think it'll rain?" he asked, eyes never leaving the symbols in the ground. Herk, who was intent on taking his turn, growled and nudged him impatiently.

"Stupid human," said Herk, his voice shrill and screechy even when calm. "Take turn. Herk want!"

"Herk get, just wait a minute." Nickolaus cast the little stone onto the seventh tile, and immediately began hopping along his expertly scratched hopscotch court, his footwork immaculate as he made his way to the stone and claimed it, shooting Herk a smug grin. The restless goblin, adjusting the wooden bowl he used as a helmet in anticipation, practically snatched the stone and, with deceptive precision, cast the stone into the court. Herk landed a six, and proceeded to skip confidently over the numbers in the dirt until his little clawed foot broke the edge of the five. The goblin shrieked furiously, but knew better than to argue – at that moment, all his revelmates had momentarily paused to watch his and Nickolaus's game, and he was certain that not a one of them would take his side should a dispute arise. Snitching, backstabbing numskulls. As Nickolaus whooped and hopped the remaining three steps to victory, Herk immediately started plotting how to exact petty vengeance, cackling quietly to himself.

Conspicuous as this was, Nick took note and smirked. Try as they might, none of these goblins could pull one over him – Herk was the only one who hadn't accepted it. Of course, outsmarting goblins was no big feat, but he couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself. Even though they were still uncouth and almost savage, he had put in effort and won both their trust and grudging respect. Thanks to him, they were alive.

The day began to die, and, after several more rounds of hopscotch against an increasingly agitated Herk, Nick bid the goblins goodbye and set off along the path through the rocks to the Abbey. For all its bleakness, he genuinely liked the Wilted Forest, but recognized the danger of hanging around after dark. Ogres came out from their rocky hideaways to hunt, and the living dead emerged from the earth. Though they were slower, they unsettled Nick with their almost conscious moans. The mere thought of it served to speed his progress through the woods, and soon the Abbey was within sight.

There at the gate, Sister Janne stood, calling out into the woods for Nick to come back, that it was dangerous and he knew better. Slipping between the rocks and pulling himself up onto the Abbey wall, Nickolaus grinned. She would chide him for frightening her, of course, and he would deserve it, but he really couldn't help himself. He crawled, snakelike, over the top of the wall until he was directly above her.

"Nick! Come home!"

"You called?"

Janne gasped and jumped at the sudden voice behind her. She looked about to see Nickolaus sitting cross-legged on the wall, looking smugly down at her. Despite knowing he would never harm her, his eyes cast in the torchlight looked quite eerie, almost glowing in the sharp contrast. As if feeling the odd effect his position was having, Nick instantly rolled backwards off the wall, landing on his feet with practiced ease.

Janne sighed. "I know you're good at that, but I can't help but worry you'll hurt yourself. Don't make me worry, Nick…"

"I'm sorry, Janne. It's all just so much fun!"

The nun bit her lip. "And… those goblins in the woods. You say they're your friends, that they won't hurt you, but they're-"

"They look up to me, you know."

Janne looked away, her eyes downcast while Nick's eyes hardened. "I saved their lives. They're not humans, but they can feel gratitude. They can feel. The Maker demands we reach out and embrace all life, doesn't He?"

"In His infinite grace, He does, but I can't help but feel worry gnawing at me. And when you don't appear for dinner, Nick, a knot grows in my stomach. Promise me… promise me you'll come home to eat tomorrow? We hardly even see you anymore. You're always out in the woods with those…"

"Monsters?"

Janne winced. "Friends of yours."

Nick immediately felt guilty, and, with an apologetic bow, turned to walk to the Abbey storehouse. Even though she was unfond of his goblin friends, she really did want the best for him, and it hurt him to make her uncomfortable. He could picture her reaching out after him, then giving up and heading into the Abbey. In spite of the nuns' care, the only fun he ever had came from his little rebellions, the biggest of which he had committed a month ago. In his eyes, slaying that chimera had been a blessing on the entire forest. Despite the danger many of the forest's residents posed, chimeras were unnatural creatures that had no place in any ecosystem. For this reason, they wandered, killing and eating everything they could find before moving on.

And so Nick had taken the initiative, spending days setting traps, crafting poisons and throwblasts, and studying the grounds the monster prowled. His only intention had been to slay the chimera; earning the goblins' trust had been an unexpected side effect, but it had given him a new perspective on the brutish little humanoids. They were little and generally cowardly, but this cowardice came from a powerful need for survival that was inspirational in a way. Even while the entire world trampled them underfoot and loathed them, the goblins stoutly lived on and did whatever they could to thrive.

And then Herk had learned to play hopscotch.

Lying back on his cot in the storehouse, he still thought back in wonder to the moment when he had been approached by the bowl-helmed goblin. His initial wariness was dispelled and replaced with intrigue when Herk had shown him a drawing of something he had seen in the earth outside Cassardis. Nick, of course, had immediately recognized it as a hopscotch court, and so had begun a strange bond with the inquisitive goblin.

This all happened one month ago.

The sisters at the Abbey were more worried than ever. This time, they agreed, the boy had gone too far. They told him he was to stay in the abbey and burdened him with chores. He did them all, of course, and still managed to squeeze in two hours in the woods each day. They found him once at sundown perched on the roof of the Abbey, idly fixing a bright stone to the tip of a stick. That stick was in a hideaway in the forest, along with his little lab.

Tomorrow, he thought, he would check his hideaway, and make sure that sly Herk hadn't stolen anything.