in a house in the woods a goblin is eating, it seems to be eating tiny wyverns in a bottle like popcorn

The cabin creaked under its own weight — less a home and more a held breath, leaning against three trees for support. Moss crawled up every wall. Inside smelled like grease and charred meat and something faintly sulfuric.

A fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the cluttered table. Bottles lined the shelves — murky things with labels nobody could read anymore, filled with things that squirmed and popped when shaken. One bottle in particular was getting attention tonight.

The wyvern inside was about the size of a walnut, scaled and iridescent, wings curled tight around its body like a miser clutching coin. Each time the goblin dropped one into her mouth playing with it with her tongue then chewing

she grabs another one out and drops it in her mouth

Another wyvern hit the back of Emily's throat, legs kicking feebly before being swallowed whole. It thrashed once — twice — then went still. Crunch. Gone. Putting her whole hand in the bottle she grabs a hand full of wyverns

Three wyverns tumbled into her green palm, wings beating uselessly against each other like drunk butterflies. She popped them all into her mouth at once, cheeks puffing out, mandibles working with that wet grinding sound that would make any civilized person lose their dinner.

One managed to wedge itself between her teeth and let out a tiny squeal before being crunched flat. Its friends weren't far behind — a brief scuffle inside her jaw, then silence. Swallowed.

The bottle was half-empty now, amber liquid sloshing over the rim onto the table. The remaining wyverns inside huddled together near the bottom, pressing themselves into the glass as far from the opening as possible. Feeling satisfied she puts the bottle away and go on a walk