Child of Stone — The Misadventures of Terrtara

Terrtara had never been the most skilful of cavelings.

Ever since he had burst from a seam in the rock—sparked into being by a stray pickaxe strike—he had mostly stumbled from panic to confusion without truly knowing why he was alive or what exactly he was meant to do.

The first thing he remembered was running.

Huge dwarven boots thundered around him, shaking dust from the beams above as miners sang and swung their tools in unison. Terrtara darted between their steps, terrified of being crushed, and flung himself into a narrow crack in the stone.

He made it only halfway.

Head first, he jammed in place, his small legs kicking helplessly in the open air. His hands searched for something to grip, anything to pull himself through. He wriggled a while… and then the little light on his cap drooped as he gave up. He would perish here. That much was certain.

What a miserable end for a creature born for greatness. He could have reclaimed the stolen treasures of the mountain—those taken by all manner of folk. He could have brought everything back. He could have returned home in a victorious puff—

I can puff!

He clapped his hands together in delight.

The faint puff was drowned out by the dwarves’ singing and the rhythmic music of their pickaxes. A swirl of soot swallowed him, leaving only a breath of grey dust in the crevice.

He hadn’t got far, but that didn’t stop him from clapping again. And again. He sought others of his kind, but heard only the miners’ hammers and their deep, echoing voices.

Then a scent hit him—sharp, sweet, unmistakable.

Gold!

Terrtara scampered towards it, legs a frantic blur. The workers had been careless: gold dust and tiny nuggets lay scattered across the stone, shining softly under the light on his cap. He dropped to his knees, scooping every last glimmer into the little rucksack on his back. These must be returned. All must be returned. He crawled over the ground, sweeping the very cracks with his hands until he was certain he had not missed a single speck.

But the singing grew louder. He must get farther away. Far from those who harmed the mountain. He could do nothing against them, not when even their boots were larger than he was.

Terrtara stood, meaning only to dust off his hands—but the moment his palms met, he vanished with another puff.

Much farther than he thought. Suddenly it was dark. Hot.

He would have screamed—but the sound came out muffled, dull, as if it didn’t belong to him at all. It didn’t ring, didn’t echo… it simply was.

Because he had no mouth. No mouth, no hands, no body at all. For a heartbeat he was nothing but stone—one with the mountain.

And the fear ebbed.

He was not trapped in a tunnel; he was inside the mountain. Here, nothing could harm him. Here, everything felt right.

But he could not stay. He had work to do—urgent work. He clapped with hands he did not have, and the tiny lamp atop his cap flared to life as the world pulled him back into a tunnel once more.

And he wasn’t alone.

Something stared at him—black, glinting bead-eyes in a long snout, whiskers twitching. The rat lowered its head to sniff.

Terrtara froze as he finally noticed the massive curved teeth jutting from its lower jaw. He stepped back.

“Nooo,” he squeaked. “No, no—shoo! Go away! I’m enormous! I’m terrifying! Much stronger than you think!”

He inched backwards, clapping desperately—only to trip.

He tumbled into another tunnel in a cloud of dust, landing flat on his back as the gold stones spilled from his rucksack.

“My gold! No, no—stay, stay, stay—!”

He scrambled to gather every piece. Someone else was nearby. He felt it. And these were thieves. Not dwarves this time, but tall humans.

“Shoo! You’ve no business here! And you’ve no token of entry…!” he screeched.

But the humans didn’t retreat.

Light flared. Torches. Footsteps. Voices.

Terrtara was terrified. But he couldn’t leave the gold here.

And then—they saw him.

One of them stepped closer and crouched for a better look. At that Terrtara let out another shriek.

“I’m the boss here!” he squealed. “Shoo! I may be small, but to look at me is deadly!”

More faint pops. Points of light blinked into existence, bobbing with tiny lantern hats. Squeaking criticism filled the tunnel.

“Of course, Terrtara!” one caveling piped.

“Who told you you’re the boss?” another asked.

“You can’t just appoint yourself!” a third warned.

A great wave of relief washed through his small chest. He wasn’t alone anymore. He felt them—and in that moment he knew exactly where he had to go.

But he couldn’t hold his pride back.

“These strangers are mine! I found them. To them I am the boss!” he insisted, at last gathering up all his stones.

A louder puff—and all the cavelings with Terrtara vanished in a burst of black dust.

Together everything was so much easier. His senses flowed outward, brushing through the mountain as if it were alive beneath his skin. The gold called to him more clearly now—all that had been taken from the stone. He knew the humans carried plenty of it. But there were many humans, and they were larger than dwarves.

Still, here and there the cavelings found abandoned crumbs of ore and drifted gold dust. When their rucksacks filled, they searched for a place untouched by human boots, and pressed the gathered gold back into the stone, smoothing it into the mountain to form a new vein.

At once he heard it—the loveliest sound of all: gold ringing against stone.

He popped there without thinking. His eyes widened. An entire gold coin!

He lunged for it, snatching it up before its spin could settle. Only then did he notice the circle of humans around him.

These thieves were here again!

“Hey! That’s mine!” a man shouted.

“Aaah!” Terrtara squealed, darting away on his stubby legs, trying to slip through the ring of humans.

But there was a small human among them—and this one moved impossibly fast for its size. It grabbed Terrtara by the scruff and held him high as he kicked and screamed.

“Put me down! Put me down! Aaah! It’s not fair!”

“Give it back, you little thief!” The man reached for the coin, but Terrtara held it fast. With his tiny hands he clutched the coin as if his life depended on it.

“No! It’s mine, I found it. You can’t take it, human! No one steals from a caveling with impunity—my wrath will find you!”

“Wait.” A woman stepped closer, leaning toward him. “Do you know how to get out of this tunnel?” the woman asked.

“Put me down! I won’t say a thing until you put me down,” he squealed.

“If you tell us, we’ll let you go.”

“Not until you put me down! This… this… this treatment is outrageous and inappropriate!”

“How come it doesn’t teleport this time?” a man asked.

“Because I can’t—” Terrtara bit off the word just in time, almost blurting out that he had to clap to vanish—but how could it, with both hands full of gold? He suddenly let out a shrill, “Eeee!”

The woman had to cover her ears. The small human held him as far from itself as possible.

And the man used the momentary chaos to snatch the coin from Terrtara’s hands.

“Nooo! My gold!”

“You’ll get it back if you lead us out,” he said.

Another man drew a few more gold coins from his pouch, showing them to Terrtara for just a heartbeat before closing his fist around them.

“You’ll get them all if you guide us,” he said.

Terrtara froze. The gold was too close, too bright, too precious. He didn’t run or puff away. He didn’t even realise the small human had put him down—the glint of gold still shimmered in his eyes.

He crossed his arms in a sulky huff, still hesitating as he wondered how he could get the coins another way—but nothing sensible came to mind.

“Promise?”

“On my knight’s honour,” the man said.

He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, yet it sounded very serious.

“There’s more than one exit…” Terrtara admitted at last.

“The nearest one.”

“All right. But there’s many of you. One gold each.”

“You’ll get one for every man,” the man said tiredly. “Just take us out.”

Terrtara clapped—Puff!

His pop echoed down the corridor.

“Come on! And bring my gold!”

He scurried ahead, the lantern on his cap bobbing. The humans gathered their things and followed the wavering glow.

Humans could not puff. They only walked with long, heavy steps—and though their strides were big, to Terrtara the journey felt endless.

He did not feel time. Cavelings rarely did. He felt only exhaustion creeping through his limbs.

By the time they reached the exit, he was trembling with weariness.

But it was worth it.

So much gold. More than he could ever have carried alone.

And it was all his.

New strength flowed through him as the last coin was placed into his rucksack. He clapped one final time, knowing exactly where he must go.

He sat down and slipped out of the pack, braced himself—and tipped it over.

A cascade of gold spilled onto the stone.

“I found them,” he whispered. “I brought them back. Look how many there are…”

He sorted the coins carefully, arranged them in neat little rows, and rubbed his hands together.

Then he placed his palms on them, one by one.

The gold melted at his touch. Like water poured over dry sand, it seeped into the grey rock beneath. Only faint yellow stains remained.

At the last coin, Terrtara felt something swell within him—relief. Peace.

The mountain was satisfied.

He had gathered everything he was meant to gather.

The final glow sank into the stone—and Terrtara followed it.

His work was done. Now he could rest.