You decide to stay awake despite your brain telling you it’s okay to embrace the darkness. Isn’t this foolish, though? It’s better to conserve your energy and maybe your throbbing headache will disappear. You shake your head to remove the doubting thoughts and grunt as you inhale. No. Sleeping was what got you into this mess in the first place.
Maybe if you wait long enough, there will be a chance that you can escape. The wood cow continues its journey, bumping your body up and down. Even with your tough skin, you start to feel your skin chafing, but there isn’t anything you can do about it. You decide not to shout, having learned your lesson from earlier.
“Blasted goblins,” a voice ahead of you says. Your ear perks upwards as you slightly raise your head off the floor. Is this it? A chance?
You hear high-pitched chattering that sounds like nails scraping against a chalkboard. Not that you’d know what a chalkboard is since you’re a troll who’s spent his life living in a secluded forest. But you do know that chattering is a sign of excited goblins. You hear their footsteps approaching the wood cow and you hear cursing from your riding companions as the platform shakes beneath you. A thudding sound resounds through the air as an object grazes your cheek and plants itself in front of your face.
You tentatively reach out with your tongue to touch the object. Why your tongue? Because your arms and legs are bound. You realize the object is cylindrical and made of pine wood. It must be one of those pointy pointy, stabby stabby sticks that the goblins are always using. You hear wet footsteps from behind and a sharp object jabs into your wrist. You twitch and yell as you thrash. Your hands rip off the hood covering your eyes and—wait, you can move your hands?
You look behind yourself and see a goblin. A cut rope lay where your hands were. The goblin had freed you with its pointy stick. You raise your head and bellow, while ripping off the remaining restraints with your clawed fingertips.
You see a puny human wearing metal armor beneath the wood cow. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, a metal sword in his hands. You laugh and reach downwards, grabbing the man’s head with your hand; your palm alone covers his whole face. You apply a little pressure and his head pops like a water balloon. You grin and shout at the sky while pounding your chest.
A burning sensation invades your neck, interrupting your victory cry. You look down, but jab yourself in the chin because of an arrowhead sticking out of your neck. You try to turn your head, but you can’t. You can’t move or feel anything beneath your jawline. One lucky human managed to shoot you straight through the spinal cord with an arrow. You see a figure approaching your slumped over body with a sword in its hand. The sword rises up into the air, out of your view. Then you see the sky and your headless body. You were beheaded.
Maybe you should’ve stayed asleep. At least you managed to escape your fate of entertaining rich brats.
Your vision fades to black. The End.