Richard woke up in a foul mood. Watching the worker goblins methodically feed each pup made him irrationally angry.

  "Why should I have to fear for my next meal? Why should I fight for food I wouldn't even give my dogs? It's like this world is mocking me," he thought with a dark grin.

  "Just wait, you stupid animals. I'll get back at you," Richard sighed, turning his gaze toward the pup whose beads he had stolen.

  Spotting his mark, Richard waited as the worker reached it and began feeding. The pup received one portion, the worker paused, looked around, then, seeing no one of higher authority, gave it a second.

  Richard hadn't wanted to admit it, but the moment the pup received two portions, a tension he hadn't realized he carried drained from his body. Staring at it, he knew he had chosen his own survival over the pup's—and worse, he had stolen what wasn't his.

  Some part of him laughed at the thought. "You did what you had to do. Stop being a coward," it told him with a mocking tone.

  Yet another voice berated him. He could have taken two or three beads from the half-starved pups. Logically, it would have given him what he needed with less risk—and without altering someone else's fate. But the thought, though rational, filled him with disgust.

  He was Richard Newton, and stealing from the half-dead was beneath him. He would take what was owed to him with his own two hands.

  Of course, it was hypocritical—he knew that. Stealing from a sleeping pup was hardly what anyone would call a fair fight. But even so, this was what Richard's heart told him, and even if this time he had to lower himself to survive, he would not surrender.

  Even more importantly, he would not forget it. One day, Richard would find the goblin that had taken his three beads, and the ones who oversaw this cruel system that left pups to starve without a chance. And when he did, he would teach them what crossing a Newton meant.

  Over the next couple of weeks, events slowed down, and Richard gradually began picking up the goblin language. The workers spoke little, giving Richard no real way to learn from them. The nurses, on the other hand, were the polar opposite—chattering nonstop, all at once, and always at full volume.

  At first, it was a nightmare. Richard had to strain just to catch their words, then somehow untangle the overlapping voices. Demoralized, he thought it would take forever—but to his surprise, he improved quickly.

  He theorized this progress came partly from his young brain's ability to learn quickly, and partly from the language's simplicity. His body was also developing fast. Within a week of crawling, he was walking—though with all the grace of an old drunk who had been handed a bottle of whiskey. Falling on his hands every dozen steps was irritating, but seeing daily improvements, Richard gritted his teeth and kept practicing.

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  These two improvements lifted Richard's mood. Each day he gained more options, more mobility, and felt less helpless. But the good news ended there. Much to his frustration, the other pups were growing fast too. Some learned to walk even before he did, and a few had begun making sounds eerily similar to the goblin language—though clearly without understanding their meaning.

  As more pups gained mobility, many began roaming the cave. The curious ones includeing Richard, after exploring every corner of the cave started gathering near its exit. At first, none had the courage to leave, but after a few days some grew restless. Not eager to risk it himself, Richard waited for the reckless ones to venture out, then followed at a distance.

  The tunnel was surprisingly straight, ending in a crossroads after about a hundred feet. The bolder pups charged ahead, choosing random paths without hesitation. Richard, in contrast, lingered at the intersection, listening for danger. Hearing nothing, he was about to take the rightmost path when a high-pitched shriek echoed from the left. Startled, he spun around and bolted back to the cave.

  Not long after, workers returned, dragging the pups back. A few, Richard noticed, were missing. The survivors were dumped in the middle of the cave and beaten, though half-heartedly.

  Soon after, two workers took up positions at the entrance, barring anyone from leaving. Fortunately or unfortunately, the goop still had a strong sedative effect, limiting the pups' active hours to just a few, mostly before feeding and again at night when the nurses arrived.

  At first, the pups were wary of one another, but within a day or two they began mingling and playing simple games. Most involved one pup shoving another before running away, or playful wrestling. Usually, it stayed harmless, but sometimes a blow landed too hard, or a foot came down in the wrong place—and then the scuffles turned serious. These short, vicious fights always ended with one pup cowering in submission. As the pups grew, Richard noticed the serious fights becoming more frequent.

  Though playing with the other pups was beneath him, Richard stayed determined to observe and learn. For instance, the number of pups failing to wake up had begun to drop. Whether most of the one-beaded goblins had starved out or adapted to their meager rations, Richard didn't know.

  He also kept an eye on the pup whose beads he'd stolen. The workers usually gave it two portions, though at times only one.