Gigi had made tremendous progress on her rounds as the sun hurled its rays of light and heat over the village. She was over a dozen drop-offs into her route, and things were settling at an easy pace. That was until she began to make her way up the winding path that would take her and Glorp directly to the Vistane ranch.

  The farm wasn’t a bad sort of place at all. It was as idyllic a patch of rural bliss as one could hope to find. Yellow wheat rose high toward the sky, and the serpentine bodies of the lamia that ran the place deftly slithered between the vast harvests. Gigi knew a lot of folks found the lamias, with their snake bodies and human torsos, unnerving. However, she knew appearances could be deceiving. Take her for example. At a glance, she could have been lumped in with any other doe-eyed goblin girl.

  Serena, the farm's mistress, languidly glided over to where the cart stopped. Her belly was swollen from this year’s clutch. Serena had been Gigi’s friend since the two were girls. Every year Gigi came here, more little snakes were scampering around the yard. Gigi wasn’t sure the lamia even believed in marriage despite her long-term relationship. Her husband? Gigi wasn’t sure what his title was, but he was an enormous lamia with black and gold coloring painted on his bulk. The couple seemed very happy in their way. They weren’t a species of many words, but they did love Gigi’s mother’s meat pies. They had been exchanging wheat and flour for their succulent treats for years.

  However, everything about this place made Gigi feel bad, though she wasn’t ordinarily the kind of person to be hurt by the success of others. All the same, there was something about the farm that made her insides twist.

  “Oh, Gigi, it’s been so long, it’s so good to see you!” the encumbered lamia chirped, embracing the goblin woman.

  Gigi always forgot how touchy lamias were. She resisted the urge to pull away and pat herself down, ensuring nothing was stolen, but quickly remembered that lamias were not like goblins. They didn’t hug you to steal something. They genuinely meant the gesture, so Gigi embraced her back.

  “Meat! Meat! Meat!” came the chorus of a cadre of young lamia that slithered up to the cart behind their mother.

  Gigi remembered when Serena and her lover took over, just the two of them. That has certainly changed. The miniature snakes had their father’s robust black-and-gold frame and their mother’s hair as red as the autumn leaves.

  She could admit they were cute, but Gigi struggled with children. Even when her siblings were young, it was challenging. The tiny things made her uneasy. They were so fragile, so loud, so binding. It wasn’t that she disliked them, but she did hate that there was an iron-clad expectation for her to have them. She couldn’t stand the pitying looks and words from her peers and the older women in Poppy. Still, as the swollen lamia took some of the boxes from Gigi, she felt a pang of envy.

  Not because she wanted the life Serena was living; Gigi was pretty sure she would hang herself if she had to listen to the many tiny voices constantly. It was because Serena had found peace, and Gigi had only found that something inside her was missing.

  The two women spoke of mundane things, such as the weather and how big the children were getting. Yes, Gigi had heard about Lily, and yes, she was happy for her. Yes, Gigi was still living at home, and no, that was not likely to change anytime soon. The goblin woman cringed when Serena went quiet momentarily, her reptilian eyes managing to scream, “You poor thing.”

  She wasn’t some poor thing, though; she was okay. I’m fine, right? Right. Then, a small lamia, practically a little copy of her mother, slid up to them. Gigi reckoned she couldn’t have been older than a year or two. The little girl reached her arms toward Gigi.

  “Up, up!” the little snake cried.

  “Now, Ms. Gigi has plenty to carry without you,” Serena said, gently running her fingers through the child’s hair.

  “I don’t mind.” She did mind.

  Awkwardly, Gigi bent down to pick up the excited lamia, its arms still up in expectation. Gigi could never really remember which species were made of tougher stuff, like her goblin kin, and which she had to treat like dolls - like humans. She erred on caution and used a tiny fraction of strength to pick up the diminutive creature.

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  The little girl squealed with happiness as Gigi raised her to her chest, wrapping her tail around Gigi’s middle for support and warmth. She forgot what little heat thieves these cold-blooded folks were.

  “Oh, you look so natural,” Serena cooed.

  Gigi certainly didn’t feel the maternal spirit. She was too focused on not crushing the snakeling that was treating her like a sunning rock.

  “My, she is-” Cold! “So sweet!” Gigi said, shivering.

  “Come to Mama,” the lamia whispered sweetly to the little girl. Serena scooped the child under the arms, setting the little lamia on one hip while the little one flashed Gigi a particularly gummy smile.

  “You know, it’s such a shame you never found a nice goblin boy-” Serena blurted before cutting herself off. “Not that you won’t!” she followed up quickly.

  Another small piece of Gigi died, like a leaf falling from a stem. She wasn’t sure if the bluntness or the earnestness stung more.

  “Nice goblin boys don’t exist,” she said, pasting on her best smile. “Give-” she realized she didn’t know her husband's name, “the family, my love!”

  She wanted to scurry away but realized her graceless exit was, in fact, premature. She still had to unload the rest of the damn meat pies. Gigi pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She truly hated delivery duty.

  After what felt like an eternity at the ranch, she was finally several dozen meat pies lighter and on her way again. As she began wrapping up her route, she thought about the concept of a “nice goblin boy.” The words filled her with a smoldering rage the longer she turned them over in her mind. Goblin boys thought they owned you if they smashed a few boulders for you as if she couldn’t smash her own boulders.

  These thoughts plagued her as she finished the deliveries until only one remained - Lady Beatrice. Gigi was never really sure what to make of the village’s crone. To Gigi, she was one of the few things about the village that never changed. The old woman resided in a diminutive cottage by the cemetery, whittling away eternity, staring into the distance as the crows sang their guileful song.

  Gigi shuddered at the thought of the eerie woman. Her hair was so white it almost took on a light blue hue, while sallow skin hung from high cheekbones. Lady Beatrice always reminded Gigi of a dying flower. Gigi hated talking to the decrepit woman. There was something about how she stared through you like she was talking to your ghost instead of you. Gigi didn’t know much about her, but she liked pumpkin bread. She enjoys feeding it to those irritating buzzards anyway. Gigi scowled.

  That was when Gigi remembered she had forgotten the bag of crumbs for the crows. Now, she would have to deal with their cackles and calls for sure. She heard the screeching caws and a tinge of dread shot through her.

  “BREAD! BREAD!” they cried from a nearby tree, black feathers puffed up as they spread their wings demandingly. The sun glinted off their shiny black beaks. Gigi frowned.

  “I don’t have any for you, you miserable black chickens.” The crows went silent for a moment.

  “BREAD! BREAD!” they demanded.

  “NO BREAD!” Gigi shouted back. The birds considered this as they bristled back and forth.

  “GIGI IS UGLY! GIGI IS MEAN! GIGI IS ALONE!”

  The goblin gritted her teeth. She didn’t have to sit here and take this. She hopped off the cart, scooping up a good-sized rock. She hurled it at the branches, taking care not actually to hit any of the feathery cretins. The birds, unaware of her caution, scattered with a squawk.

  “Making friends as always, I see.”

  A thin but firm voice came from behind Gigi. She spun around and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the ghostly woman towering there. How the hell had Lady Beatrice snuck up on her like that? This is why everyone thought she was so damn creepy.

  “They started it,” Gigi said flatly.

  “Do you have my deliveries?”

  “Of course!” she said with forced enthusiasm. Gigi unfastened the back and began to assemble her order.

  “I suppose you heard about the army marching by here?” Lady Beatrice quizzed.

  “I did,” she grunted as she pulled out the parcels.

  “Your mother caught you.”

  “She did.”

  “Well then, after you’re done here, you can run right along then, can’t you?” Gigi’s ears twitched. “If you can keep a secret, so can I.” Lady Beatrice smiled at Gigi. Her pale complexion and pointed features gave her a ghostly appearance even when being friendly.

  Gigi sighed. “What’s the point? I’m sure they will just reject me like the others.”

  Lady Beatrice seemed puzzled by the question. “The point is to follow your dreams, silly.”

  Gigi placed the packages on the shack’s decrepit porch, thinking over the old woman's words. “Nobody cares about my dream but me.”

  “Exactly! You understand. Now go follow them.” Lady Beatrice pat Gigi on the head as if she were a child before gliding past the goblin back to her home. She gave a faint wave to the young woman, disappearing inside with the parcels in hand.

  Gigi punched her palm. If nobody cared about her dreams except her, then by the gods, she would chase them alone if she had to, right after she took Glorp home and gave her several kisses goodbye.

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