Zroz ran as fast as he could. The ruined houses around him turned into a blur. He only slowed down when he stepped out of the town. His breathing was ragged; he needed to calm down.

Running wildly without any caution was stupid. Zroz knew the dangers waiting for him in the forest. As an educated goblin, he knew of the proverb “Out of the frying pan, into the fire”. He wouldn’t fall into such a ditch.

Slowing down to a walk, Zroz observed his surroundings. The edge of the forest loomed in front of him. Zroz looked back at the town warily. He didn’t think the old woman or her savage dog followed him here, not when she still had to deal with Stealiard and Huct.

However, waiting in the town didn’t sit right with him. Zroz also knew one should always choose the lesser of two evils. He was familiar with the dangers of the Shrewlants Forest. Moreover, what would be the use of waiting around? Zroz wanted to go back to the camp. He wasn’t afraid of the old woman: he just wanted to do his job as a scout and report back to the chief as he should.

Firming his resolve, Zroz cautiously returned to the camp. He made full use of his stealth skill. The small goblin was very good at it. The best of the camp, if he dared say so himself. In fact, Zroz was sure that was why he was always sent on scouting missions. It was such an annoyance to be recognized for his talent.

As Zroz neared the camp, he thought about what had happened in the town. The more he thought, the more he was convinced the old woman was weird to be living there alone. However, would Chief Cunzer listen to him?

Unsure, Zroz sneaked around in the camp. He needed time to straighten out his story. He didn’t intend to lie, but Zroz didn’t want to be held accountable for what had happened. Unfortunately, Chief Cunzer often punished the messenger instead of the party responsible. Why should Zroz be held accountable when the mistake was Stielard’s and Terx’s?

Moreover, Zroz had returned to the camp very slowly. If Stealiard and Huct were still alive, they would have been back by now. It was better to give them time to report to the chief. Zroz hated having to think of everything.

After Zroz found a hiding place, he listened to the camp’s gossip. Zroz was patient. He waited for hours, hidden safely until he was sure of the news he was hearing. It sounded like Stealiard and Huct hadn’t come back. Did the old woman kill them? Zroz didn’t dwell on useless feelings: these goblins had never been his friends. Instead, he concentrated on the fact that an old woman had killed three goblins. Zroz concluded that his instinct was top-notch. He knew the old woman was dangerous.

A big green hand suddenly appeared in front of Zroz. Caught by his collar, Zroz was dragged out of his hiding place and dropped in front of Brelelx.

“Little coward, what are you hiding for?”

Zroz quickly looked around. Brelelx was never alone. He always had a group of cronies with him. Zroz recognized Grevirm, Brelelx’s top lap-dog. Zroz didn’t have the time to identify the other goblins before Grevirm kicked him. “Answer, little coward!”

“I’m just trying to find a place to sleep. I’m tired.” Zroz spoke cautiously.

Grevirm was known for acting as Brelelx’s mouth and hands. His boot-licking was disgusting. He was over-zealous when it came to hitting others for Brelelx. Zroz hated Grevirm.

“You’re tired of living! Daring to lie to Brelelx!” Grevirm kicked Zroz two more times. “Where are your teammates?”

“They died.” Zroz didn’t wish to be beaten for hiding information that would soon be common knowledge. The small goblin still weaved the truth with lies. “Terx was throwing stones at Huct. He found that funny. But he accidentally killed Huct. Stealiard was angry on Huct’s behalf, so he fought with Terx. Then -”

“Stop lying!” Grevirm punctuated his shout with another kick.

Brelelx condescendingly looked at Zroz. Zroz hated the other goblin’s haughtiness. Brelelx was just a goblin. Why was he acting self-important?

Brelelx spoke slowly, posturing like a pompous rooster. “I’m willing to believe they died, but Terx was too careful to kill his plaything. I advise you not to lie again.”

Brelelx sent a meaningful glance at Grevirm, who unsheathed his short sword and pointed it at Zroz’s left hand. The threat was obvious. Zroz didn’t want to lose fingers because of an old woman. Moreover, now that Zroz was thinking about it, if Brelelx and his cronies knew, Zroz wouldn’t need to report to Chief Cunzer.

So Zroz told Brelelx and his cronies what had happened in the human town. He emphasized the old woman’s weirdness and level of threat. By the end of his tale, Zroz had cautiously stood up and discreetly checked his body for injuries.

“What a pitiful sort of goblin you are!” Brelelx paused to look patronizingly at Zroz. “It is high time to teach you to act like a proud goblin of our tribe. I can’t stand seeing you bring further shame on us.”

Zroz frowned, not understanding what Brelelx meant. He was a normal goblin, even a great goblin if one considered his stealth skills.

“Great! I need to test my new arrows!”

Zroz turned his attention to the goblin who spoke. This goblin was part of the hunting parties. Zroz had often observed the archers of the tribe, wondering what qualified them to be equipped with a bow when his only weapon was a slingshot. Zroz was almost sure the name of this goblin was Cliekas.

“Of course attacking the old woman is a great idea!” Grevirm added. “It’s Brelelx’s idea!”

Hearing the boot-licking goblin brought Zroz out of his bout of jealousy – no, not jealousy, a perfectly justified feeling of unfairness. What were Grevirm and Cliekas talking about? Did these goblins didn’t listen to his tale?

“She has a savage gigantic dog! She killed three goblins!” Zroz refrained from adding that they shouldn’t go. Brelelx didn’t like being told what to do.

“Why do you care about a dog, little coward? We’re going with my group. Six goblins can easily handle an old woman and her dog!”

Zroz looked around at Brelelx’s cronies. His crew was composed of three warriors – Brelelx himself, Grevirm, and a lazy goblin named Slaaq – and two archers – Cliekas and a shy goblin whose name might be Sletat. Zroz wasn’t sure. The small goblin looked around some more. Who was the sixth goblin?

“What’s there to fear from a dog? We’re raising wolves.” Brelexl added in his annoying, pompous voice.

Did Brelexl intend to bring one of the wolves as the sixth member of his party? Zroz didn’t think it would help. Their wolves were only mangy mutts, full of fleas and malnourished.

“Wake up, little coward! Even if this woman has some tricks, she is alone and old.”

Zroz hid his scorn as Grevirm defended Brelelx’s idea. It wasn’t his problem if these reckless goblins wanted to endanger their life. He looked around, anticipating a well-deserved meal. He hadn’t eaten all day and was starving.

Suddenly, Grevirm harshly pushed Zroz. “What are you standing here for, little coward? Show us the way!”

Bewildered, Zroz looked at Brelelx. It couldn't be that the arrogant goblin wanted Zroz to guide them back to the human town, could it? Brelelx nodded toward the camp's exit. So, Zroz was the sixth goblin? But he wanted to eat and sleep!

Zroz knew he shouldn’t tell Brelelx about his complaints. Instead, he tried to reason with the arrogant goblin.

“It’s late afternoon. It’ll be nightfall by the time we get there. It’s better to wait for tomorrow morning.” Zroz believed his idea to be excellent. And if they waited, maybe Chief Cunzer would hear about the old woman, and Zroz wouldn’t have to go at all.

“Just how low can you fall, little coward?” Brelelx said scornfully. “We’re goblins! Lacking light isn’t a problem for us! Attacking in the night will be to our advantage.”

“Maybe the little coward likes going to the forest during the day to enjoy the view.” Cliekas loudly laughed with Sletat – yeah, let’s call him Sletat: it wasn’t as if Zroz intended to befriend this goblin.

Zroz opened his mouth, his mind not yet set on answering Brelelx’s reckless idea or Cliekas’s mocking. Grevirm threateningly advanced toward Zroz, cutting off the small goblin’s budding objections. Zroz resigned himself, but he inwardly disapproved of Brelelx’s decision. Zroz knew the beasts and monsters roaming the Shrewlants Forest at night were more vicious. He wasn’t thinking of the nice view!

The walk back to the human town was even more disheartening than Zroz had anticipated. Brelelx and Grevirm were loudly chatting on the way – if Grevirm flattering Brelelx and Brelelx preening under his attention could be called a chat. Sletat was following them, nodding at everything they were saying like an annoying flunky. Zroz turned away in disgust. He hated flatterers.

The other two weren’t any comfort either. Cliekas was wasting his arrows trying to shoot down the bats and owls coming out in the dusk. Zroz told him to stop but the archer retorted that he was hunting for the tribe. Zroz thought Cliekas was just playing around because he missed most of his prey. How could the chief choose such a messy marksman as a hunter for the tribe? Zroz would never know. As for Slaaq, he was complaining every ten steps that it was too far or that he wanted to nap. Zroz was afraid the lazy goblin would fall asleep before the fight even began.

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Zroz was upset. Very upset. How could such a party last longer than the last one? But no one listened to him. If Stealiard had been too greedy, Brelelx was too arrogant. Still, Zroz’s conscience made him try to remind the group of the dangers surrounding them.

“Little coward, stop talking.” Brelexl intoned.

Grevirm hurried to clarify his leader’s meaning. “Who would listen to one so beneath us? Anyway, everyone knows you’re a coward. You just want to run and hide!”

Zroz felt insulted. He wasn’t a coward. This rumor about him was unfair. He hated his situation. He hated his forced teammates. He hated Brelelx. He didn’t care if they all died, but they should leave him out of it.

Once they arrived at the town, Brelelx refused to scout and sneak around. He arrogantly and openly led his party to enter the town. Zroz didn’t even try to object when Brelelx ordered him to directly show them the way to the old woman’s house. He wouldn’t waste any saliva on these ungrateful goblins.

Zroz turned his head away to roll his eyes as Grevirm promised Brelelx he would teach a lesson to the old woman and avenge their clan mates. Empty boasts were disgraceful.

***

Sondra lifted her head from her meal and tilted her head, listening. She pursed her lips and looked at the stone still on the dining table. Some moments later, it began to blink in a soft red light. Sondra sighed as she looked wistfully at her soup. She wouldn’t have the time to finish eating before having company. She contemplated the soup, unwilling to leave it. She could hear her late husband’s chiding words.

Sondra inelegantly snorted. “Don’t start, dear. You know I don’t like eating my soup cold.”

Beau came over and put his head on Sondra’s lap. The old woman smiled slightly. The food wouldn’t be wasted.

Sondra took out a bottle filled with pills. She swallowed one with a sip of water. Then, Sondra put one into the dog’s mouth. Once she was sure he had gulped it, Sondra patted the dog’s head and got up to go to the cabinet where she stored her belongings.

She rummaged in one of her leather bags. She took out several vials and pouches that she hid with some sleight of hands. Then, she opened one of the bigger vials to coat several of her throwing daggers with the substance from it. Once she was done, she put the used item back into the bag and held out an ornamented scroll in one hand and a tiny vial in the other. Sondra mused on both objects.

“What do you say, Beau? Should we bring a bit of Janet to the fight, or should we mostly honor Rina and Dylan tonight?”

Beau barked twice. Sondra nodded and put the scroll back into the bag. Then she drank the vial. A glow spread to her eyes. She usually didn’t like using this potion – much to her daughter-in-law’s dismay since Rina had put a lot of work into brewing it. However, Sondra didn’t need to hide this time, so it didn’t matter if her eyes glowed a bit. And if she did need to hide at one point, she only had to close her eyes.

A quick glance at the stone confirmed that her guests were approaching. Sondra checked she had equipped all her daggers and grabbed one last weapon before stepping outside.

Her timing was perfect: the six goblins were entering the square. Sondra surveyed them, taking notes of their tells and weapons. Soon, she noticed the small goblin who had run away that morning. She waved at him. “Oh, you went to get some friends. I’m not ready for a housewarming party, though: you’ll have to excuse me.”

The small goblin took a step back with an offended air. Or a frightened air? Goblins were so ugly that reading them was troublesome. The goblin pointed at her and screeched at his peers. Sondra left them to it. She didn’t mind getting more time to prepare herself.

Sondra activated a trickle of her magic while listening to the goblins. She had never bothered learning their language, but it sounded like one of the burlier goblins was now scolding her little friend. The small goblin pointed at Sondra, but the others didn’t listen to him. One of them even ignored the small goblin to look around. That wouldn’t do.

“Do you like my leather armor? I must admit I’m so comfortable in it that I even wear it under my dresses. And it’s of such quality! Look there!” Sondra helpfully pointed out a very slight mark on her side. This armor was the finest gift her late husband had ever got her. It was flawlessly crafted and meticulously enchanted. “Your friends from earlier got me good, but my armor did its job beautifully.”

The small goblin opened his mouth – in outrage or surprise, Sondra didn’t know – but a burlier goblin stepped forward and spoke in a broken common tongue. It was rare that goblins knew the common tongue. It was a good indication that they were or had been part of a horde. Another goblin joined the first one to stand arrogantly. The old woman didn’t bother with their villain foreplay and quietly finished her preparations.

Sondra suddenly shot the chatterbox goblin with her crossbow, killing him instantly. She smiled proudly. “Look at that! Isn’t Dylan’s crossbow a nice weapon?”

The other goblin roared in rage and gestured at the rest of the goblins to attack. Sondra was pleased to see the arrogant one – who might be the leader – stay behind. With a sleigh of hand, she took out a pouch that she threw at the head of the last goblin warrior, who was unwillingly charging her. When it touched her target, Sondra used a trickle of her magic to trigger the pouch. It exploded in a potent blinding powder. “Here, have some of Rina’s greetings! That’s good stuff, you have my word on it!”

The goblin cried out and dropped his short sword to scratch his eyes. Next, Sondra threw two daggers. They broke two vials Sondra had hidden on the square on her first day. A dense greenish mist rose from them. One of its purposes was to protect Sondra from long-range attacks.

The old woman admitted she took a calculated risk by incapacitating the warrior first since it gave her enemies an opening to shoot at her. Three of the goblins had indeed long-ranged weapons, but the small goblin was a coward equipped with a slingshot, one goblin had an almost empty quiver, and the last one hadn’t even raised his bow yet. Their leader had to slap him behind the head for him to react. But it was too late.

Beau, who had sneaked out from the back door earlier, attacked the slow goblin from behind. Sondra trusted the hunting dog to take care of his mark. She charged the nearest warrior goblin while guiding the mist with her magic.

Blinded and distracted by his burning eyes, the goblin warrior didn’t notice Sondra’s approach. The old woman ruthlessly slit his throat. Just in time, she used her bloodied dagger to block an arrow shot at her. Sondra looked over. The mist was already covering Beau and his prey, but Sondra could still distinguish the other archer. He had only one arrow left. Her little friend seemed to have already disappeared.

The archer shot his last arrow. Sondra dodged it easily with some footwork. Sondra just had the time to check the position of the arrogant goblin before the mist filled the whole square. “How could Rina use this thing? I can’t see anything anymore... Well, neither can they.”

And it wasn’t as if Sondra was helpless when blind. Nonetheless, using her magic was a pain in her old age. Sondra closed her eyes and orientated herself in the mist with her enhanced hearing senses. The old woman stealthily hurried over to Beau. It sounded as if the arrogant goblin had come to the help of the other archer. Sondra pursed her lips in disapproval when she heard the sound of a blade cutting flesh.

She paused to activate more of her magic. With its help, she accurately threw two poisoned daggers at the useless archer, who was out of arrows. Sondra wanted to help Beau, but she couldn’t risk touching him with this poison.

Assured that this goblin would no longer be a threat, the old woman headed toward the hunting dog. By the time she reached Beau, the dog had killed the second archer, and, in retaliation, the arrogant warrior goblin had slashed him several times.

Beau was a special breed of hunting dog raised especially to fight bears. He was resilient, and his thick coat helped lighten the blows.

Nevertheless, Sondra still ached for her son’s pup. She unsheathed her daggers and assaulted the goblin. Sondra was already feeling the backlash from forcefully using her magic despite her shriveled meridians. The old woman had never felt so slow, but she had anticipated this situation. Her son's and her daughter-in-law’s gifts would help her.

The goblin was sluggishly defending himself with his short sword. He had some skills, but Sondra wasn’t fighting alone. The mist did its work, furtively hindering the goblin’s nervous system. Beau lived up to his breed reputation. Despite his injuries, he harried the goblin keeping him from attacking and defending properly.

It was a messy kill, one Sondra wasn’t proud of. It wasn’t a fight she would have told her grandchildren willingly. Her mood turned bittersweet as she remembered their eagerness and admiration when she told them stories.

Beau whined by her side, bringing Sondra’s mind back to her situation. Her adrenaline calmed down, and her whole body shook uncontrollably. The old woman struggled to properly sheath her daggers. Done, Sondra vainly surveyed the square still covered in mist.

Her meridians were too sore for Sondra to disperse the mist with her magic. And Beau wasn’t in any state to deal with the corpses scattered around.

Sondra didn’t linger on the things she couldn’t help. She wouldn’t have survived to her old age if she did. “Got us to the house, Beau. We need to be patched up.”

The dog limped to the old woman’s side to guide her through the mist. As for the mess, it would still be here in the morning.