"You're quite shrewd for a goblin."
The Matriarch's voice rumbled low, vibrating through her claws still pressed against my skull.
Shrewd? The word bounced around in my head.
Was that a compliment? Or the prelude to a slow, painful execution?
My brain scrambled for a response, every option sounding either suicidal or stupid. In the end, all I managed was a weak, awkward:
"Uh… thanks?"
Even I cringed at myself. Who in their right mind said thanks to a fox-god that could incinerate them with a sneeze?
The Matriarch tilted her head slightly, molten eyes narrowing in a way that made my stomach knot.
"Where is my daughter now?"
The question hit like a hammer. My chest tightened.
"She's… safe," I croaked. "I left her somewhere after feeding her my last recovery potion."
My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going. Maybe honesty would buy me a shred of mercy. Maybe the fox would see reason, recognize that I'd helped, and decide against turning me into a scorch mark.
