The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

That same stormy night, not too far away, the wolves were fast asleep in Skewer Summit.

All save for one.

Dirtclaw was relaxing in the deepest cave of the mountain. He was on a short platform that nearly encompassed the entire room. Large crystals stood on either side, glowing softly in the dark. It was bright enough to illuminate the room, but not enough that it made it unbearable to sleep in.

There were two stone statues, similar-looking to the ones outside the mountain, flanking the entrance to the cave. They two had white crystals for eyes, open-mouthed snarls, and sharp claws on their hands and feet. One difference, however, was that they each held one hand as if they were holding spears. One statue's hand was empty, and the other held a broken spear in its claws. If the wolf turned his head just right, he could see the statues through the doorway.

He rolled onto his back and stretched his legs the air. He then shifted back onto his paws and stretched his wings out, yawning. The room was big enough that he couldn't feel the walls even with the tips of his large wings. He flopped onto his front, stretching his legs in front of and behind him, and laid his head on the stone beneath him. After a few minutes, he folded one front paw over the other and laid his chin on both paws. But he still could not get to sleep.

Perhaps it was because he was becoming antsy about his inevitable battle with Froglip. He knew he wasn't entirely stupid; he would bring a weapon, and he would be out for blood. It would be a difficult fight.

But Dirtclaw had more advantages. He could fly, he knew a goblin's weaknesses, and he could use his teeth. He already did before, even if it did merely leave a wound that would become a scar. But with goblins having tough skin, it was only a testament to how strong he was. All he had to do was trap him in the unfamiliar tunnels and caves of Skewer Summit, have the wolves guard all exits in case he tried to escape, and tire him out.

Then, his vengeance would be finally fulfilled.

Against his will, memories began to flood Dirtclaw's mind:

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. It didn't occur to him that he could go faster with his wings, but he wasn't thinking straight at the moment. Tears flooded his eyes, and he could feel his heart breaking.

His family, the ones that raised him, had murdered his real family. Back before he could even speak. And they told stories about it, glorifying it. And they laughed!

And Froglip, the one he thought loved him like a brother, cheered for the goblins! Didn't he realize that this was Dirtclaw's true family? Ones that he would never see again, and had learned about through a war story?

Or did he not care?

It seemed like hours before Dirtclaw collapsed with exhaustion. His legs felt like stone, and he couldn't get up even if he tried. So, he simply lay in the grass and cried. He cried out his grief, frustration, and anger; for the family he never knew, and for the ones that had ruined his life.

Did they even care where he was? He thought he heard Froglip calling out for him, asking where he was going.

Where was he, now that he was thinking about it? He lifted his head, blinked the tears away, and looked around. Nothing looked familiar, and when he looked over his shoulder, he couldn't see the tunnel entrance or even the mountains.

He was completely and utterly lost.

Suddenly, there was a growl, though it didn't sound like one he had ever heard before. It was high-pitched and gestural, and it made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. He pushed himself shakily to his feet, merely succeeding in making himself sit, and looked towards the source of the growl. He saw a large animal—though it was smaller than himself. It was wide and flat, and a silver-gray in color, with a white head and black stripes.

Badger! he suddenly realized. He only recognized it because Dolomite wore a badger-skin cloak. But everyone knew that badgers were very dangerous; notorious for attacking nearly every animal that made them angry, and rarely losing.

He tried to stand up to get away, but he was still very wobbly on his feet. He wasn't in the right state-of-mind to fight a badger, and he knew that it was fixing to fight him. When he sniffed the air, it smelled entirely of badger, and he realized that he had ran right into its territory.

But by the time he successfully got up, the animal attacked. It leaped at his face with a loud battle cry. He fell back, not anticipating the sudden attack. It scratched at his face with its long claws. He could feel the skin ripping painfully, and the blood spill out. It bit at him with sharp teeth. He kicked it back with his hind feet and tried to run. It jumped onto his back and grabbed the back of his neck in its jaws. He rolled onto his back and tried to crush it beneath him. It pulled itself out from under him and grabbed his wing. He yelped and bit at the animal as hard as he could. The skin was too tough to bite through, but he managed to throw it to the side. He planted his paws into the earth and growled loudly at his opponent.

The badger growled back and stamped its feet. He pounced on the badger and grabbed a mouthful of its fur. He shook it as hard as he could. He pinned its body to the ground with his paws and pulled as hard as he could. It grabbed at his face with its claws, slashing him again. He yelped in pain, letting the animal go. It charged at his throat and tried to bite him. But though he could barely feel the tips on his skin, the fur around his neck was thick enough to save his life.

The next thing Dirtclaw knew, he was waking up in a daze. He felt bruised and tired. There were white bandages, spotted with red, wrapped around his chest, wing, and front legs. When he tried to open his eyes, his right eye wouldn't open. Suddenly feeling scared, he pawed at his face. He felt bandages wrapped around his head, keeping his eye shut.

His ears twitched when he heard a soothing voice. Turning, he saw the blurry form of... something. It was pale with long, black fur on its head, and had patches of orange and brown on the rest of its body. "Shhh, you'll be all right," he heard it say. Something flat and with long appendages laid itself on his head. He flinched back and blinked his eye. Finally, his vision cleared enough to where he could see what was in front of him.

It was a Sun-Woman.

With a frightened growl, he bit out at her. She jumped back with a cry. "No, I'm trying to help you!" she exclaimed.

Ignoring her, he struggled to his feet to try and run away. "You're wounded, you can't leave!" she protested, grabbing at his shoulders.

He turned sharply and pushed her to the ground with his paws. Screaming, the Sun-Woman grabbed something and slashed at him. He yelped when he felt a sharp pain down across his left eye. He grabbed blindly with his jaws and felt soft flesh and meat in his mouth. He bit down on it, and felt a gush of blood on his tongue. He could hear the scream and feel the vibrations through his teeth. He bit down harder. He felt more struggling underneath him. He pushed down with his paws and kept held with his jaws.

Finally, his prey was still. He could feel the heat leaving their body.

He let go and backed away a step, pawing at his face. He finally got a hold of the bandages with his claws and pulled them off. They smelled like the Sun-Woman and blood, and had little pieces of black fur stuck to it. He grabbed his other bandages with his teeth and pulled them off. They all looked and smelled similar, though they didn't have as much blood as his facial bandages had.

Looking ahead, his eyes widened when he saw the dead Sun-Woman in front of him. Her throat had been torn open, she had little red marks on her face and chest, her eyes were open and glazed over, and her mouth was open in a scream. Clutched in her hand was a knife with blood on it.

He blinked when he realized blood was dripping down the left side of his face. He lapped at it, and ran out of the Sun-Woman's house that he realized was in. He ran until he reached a pond. He skidded to a stop and padded up to it, looking at the reflection to see his face.

He had three long, red slashes across the right side of his face. They ran from the right side of his face next to his eye down and across his snout before his nose. They looked swollen, and were barely bleeding. There was a fresh, bleeding slash straight down across his left eye.

There were various bites and scratches across the rest of his body, but the worst ones were the ones on his face. He knew, without a doubt, they would scar.

He continued to stare at his reflection, blinking when he saw a drop of blood fall into the water. But it wasn't from his face. His jaws were still covered in the red, warm blood of the Sun-Woman. It continued to drip into the water, and he saw it run down the fur on his throat. He licked at his jaws until they were clean, and sat down.

There was still the lingering taste of blood in his mouth. He had tasted the blood of various prey in the past, but it all paled in comparison to the taste of this blood. He wanted more. He craved more. He swallowed repeatedly until the taste faded away. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the Sun-Woman's house wasn't too far away. As if in a trance, he stood to his feet and walked back into the house.

It was several weeks before he returned to the goblin village. During that time, his wounds had healed, and he was right in that his facial wounds would scar. The three slashes were rough, but the one across his eye was straight and clean.

Ever since he had tasted the blood of the Sun-Woman that had helped him, he wanted more. He didn't care that he had killed his savior; she was a Sun-Woman, who cared about them? All he cared about was quenching his thirst for blood. He had hunted several Sun-People over the weeks that he was gone from the goblin village. He found a few Sun-Men, a couple of Sun-Women, and even a Sun-Child.

But his thirst wasn't quenched. Instead, it seemed like the more Sun-People he hunted, the more he craved blood. As he returned home, his thoughts wandered to what goblin blood might taste like.

At first, he was horrified at this thought. Goblins were his family! How could he even think of killing them, much less tasting their blood?! He almost felt sick at the thought.

But, his thoughts turned, they did kill my true family. And they kept this secret from me.

He eventually decided that he would see what their reactions to him coming home would be. Would they realize their mistake and apologize for killing his family? It wouldn't bring them back, but it would prove that the goblins cared for him.

But that didn't happen at all. They welcomed him back, oohed and ahhed over his scars, and asked where he had been. Nothing about his family's death. Even Froglip simply welcomed him with a pat on the back and compliments to his scars. He didn't say anything about the story they listened to before he ran away, or even asked why he had run away.

On the outside, Dirtclaw was cool, calm, and collected. They had remarked that he changed, but he simply said he had some things enlightened to him, and that he knew the world a lot better. And the only reason he would want to be alone was to think further on the world and his place in it.

But on the inside, he was seething with rage.

It was a few more days before he finished formulating his grand plan for revenge. During that time, he learned that before he was adopted into the kingdom, a different goblin clan had joined the kingdom, and that Froglip had been betrothed to the leader's daughter before they even knew how to walk or talk. She was a tall, thin goblin with orange skin and yellow hair, and looked strong and mean. And when they were married, Froglip would take over the throne.

Well, that complicates things a little, Dirtclaw had remarked to himself. I suppose I will have to simply... get her out of the way.

He waited patiently, for days, until the two goblins ventured in a certain part of the tunnels; a part where he knew the walls were weak, and with enough shoving would cause a rock-slide. He called Froglip away, ducked into a branching tunnel that led back to the other goblin, and shoved his body repeatedly against the thin wall. His perseverance was rewarded, and the tunnel collapsed, crushing the female goblin beneath its weight.

He played the part of a sympathetic friend, but whenever Froglip wasn't looking, he let a satisfied grin spread across his muzzle. He hadn't been able to taste the goblin's blood, but that desire was put in the back of his mind. He had more important plans to fulfill for now.

Some time later, however, Froglip was betrothed yet again. This time, it was to one of their own original goblins, as the newer group wasn't too keen on trying to betroth one of their own daughters. This time, he lured the female goblin to the edge of a sinkhole and pushed her down into it. She had hit her head on a sharp rock and was bleeding. So this time, he indulged himself in her taste. It was nothing similar to Sun-Person blood, but it didn't mean he disliked it. In fact, it helped urge his need for vengeance further.

After this, Suevite and Dolomite forwent betrothing Froglip to anyone. He was convinced that he was cursed, and in a rare act of kindness decided it would be better to rule alone than to allow more female goblins to be killed.

This sat well with Dirtclaw.

One night, he stole into the goblin's room and stood over his bed. Some small part of him urged him to not do it. That there was another way to exact revenge. To even walk away and never return.

But he parted his lips and growled down at the goblin he once considered a best friend; a brother even. Froglip woke up and asked what Dirtclaw was doing, but he got no response. He opened his mouth and lunged down to bite into his throat, just as he had done to the Sun-Woman months prior.

But before he could even taste his flesh, he was grabbed and pulled back by several goblin guards. He growled and thrashed, but they tied him up, threw him into a cave, and shoved a boulder into the entrance. He growled angrily at them, and at himself. He had been too foolish and rash to even consider the guards waking up and finding him. I suppose I will have to be more careful next time, he had thought to himself.

It was several hours before he was brought out and before the king, queen, and prince. When asked what he was doing, he confessed everything. "You lot killed my family! Don't think I was listening dumbly to that story all those months ago! You killed them, and took me in as a trophy! Why, I'm willing to bet you would have shown me off if any other winged wolves had lived." He told them that he was the one that killed the two female goblins, and even said that his plan after was to murder Suevite and Dolomite after Froglip.

In the end, it was Froglip's decision on what to do with Dirtclaw: would he be executed for high treason and attempted murder, or exiled for life? He smirked when the goblin called for his exile, and even let a few chuckles escape his mouth. The spoiled, sniveling coward couldn't even stomach having me killed. How pathetic.

A knife was used to slash two large Xs into his shoulders. He knew these were the marks of exiled goblins; any goblin with these scars was known to be an exiled one, and would either be chased away or killed if seen near the kingdom. This would make things even more tricky.

But Dirtclaw was a patient and resourceful wolf. He stayed near the area, hidden away from the goblins. He heard their plan to flood the miners' mine, and for Froglip to marry the Sun-Princess and exact their own revenge against the Sun-People. He had seen the flood pour down from the castle, taking the goblins with them.

And he waited. Ten long years, he waited, but it was not for nothing. During those ten years, he perfected his hunting techniques and ironed out any wrinkles in his plans. He found a large group of wolves, and integrated them into his plan. He found Skewer Summit, and realized it was the perfect place to stay while he exacted his plan. He and his newly-found pack chased the goblins from the mountain, albeit at the cost of half of the pack. But, he had thought at the time, licking the blood from his lips after their takeover had been complete, sacrifices must be made.

Dirtclaw jumped as thunder echoed through the tunnels, startling him out of his old memories. He growled deeply in his throat. To anyone outside the room, it almost sounded like he was challenging the thunder.

He stood to his feet, spun around in several circles, and plopped down in a curled ball. "Only a few more days now. I can feel it," he muttered, licking at his injured paw. The wound had been healing nicely, but he knew it would scar. Oh well, another to add to his collection. It was his first from Froglip personally, but he knew it wouldn't be his last.

"Soon, my plan shall be fulfilled."