Chef just realized how lost he was and didn’t exactly know how to fix that. What he did know is that people drank water too, so he just picked a direction and followed the creek that way. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t. All Chef knew was that he had no better ideas on how to find them again.

And on the upside, if this did somehow work then he could find his way back to the mass cooking location! This might even be the same creek that was near where he set up his base camp. Chef didn’t know everything, but what he did know was the importance of positivity. At least until things really went tits up and he forgot about that, but he always remembered again eventually!

So, Chef followed along the creek, wondering to himself why he drank so much less water than he used to despite all the dry meats he’d been eating. A mystery for another time, that one. I’m much too busy with…

The forest chirped and made other nothing sounds as he scrambled for a reason.

The truth was that Chef didn’t really care. If some unknown thing caused him to drink less water, then, from his perspective, that just freed up more time for him to cook and eat. The same was true for his sudden lack of post processed trash, i.e., shit. He knew there was some probably very cool cause for it, but again he didn’t really care.

So, with nothing to occupy himself, Chef continued following the creek while making funny noises with his mouth. After a couple hours, he discovered that if he pursed his lips just right, positioned his hand with his mouth, and used his tongue that he could make a very satisfying sound. He called it “mouth farting.”

Shortly after his discovery, he finally exited the woods and saw open plains and, yes, the human village. Chef knew that it wasn’t just dumb luck that he picked the correct direction from the two available, so he praised himself for being such a smart goblin. No, no, the smartest goblin.

He double checked his attire to make sure that he still looked presentable, or, well, as presentable as he cared to be. That is to say that no green was peeking through.

With the bear head being the size of his torso, Chef had opted for mimicking the neat little hood the wrinkled man had. So, getting closer to the village, he pulled it low enough that they wouldn’t see his face.

“Huh,” he spoke to the birds and other wildlife around him. “It is really hard to see while hiding your face.”

Oh well, Chef didn’t plan to stick around long today, he mainly just wanted to grab the promised big pot so he could go back to making stews. Also, a pan that wasn’t stone. And anything else they’d give him.

As he got closer, he seemed to enter the fields where they did their harvesting, and quite a few people were around. They, of course, freaked out, arms flailing frantically as they ran to their town.

Sighing, Chef slowly made his way to the entrance he could see a bit further away. Some of the townspeople were so desperate that they ignored the intended entrance entirely, instead opting to try and climb the wooden walls between them and presumed safety.

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Humans really were unimpressive. Chef snorted as he walked past the two that were struggling to make it over. A war was fought inside of him as he debated pushing them over or pulling them down, but he restrained himself and continued along.

Once again, he found himself standing at the entrance to the town along with two hopelessly under qualified guards. They stood at the ready as if they thought they could do anything about him.

“Bring your betters. Berent and Fresk.”

They glanced at each other as they grew increasingly nervous about the situation. Chef, with his powerful observation skills and extensive knowledge on humans, identified that they were scared. That or just confused. He failed to hold back a sigh.

Humans.

“I’ll go!” They both said at the same time before glaring at the other. One gave in first as his companion ran off, abandoning him to the hooded person before them.

Chef just smiled and waited.

It isn’t as good as killing and eating them, but there’s a certain charm to seeing them scramble in fear of me.

Chef settled in to wait for a while, but it only took a couple of minutes before the guard came back with two people. He recognized the wrinkled one, but the handsome one was new. They came empty handed minus the sword on the handsome one’s belt which wasn’t a good sign.

“How can we help you, Mr. Chef?”

Oh, how Chef hated repeating himself.

“Big pot, pan, other cook things.” He then pointed to his cloak and the one that wrinkles was wearing. “Also, that.”

As they looked at each other he debated asking the new human its name but ultimately decided he didn’t care. An unsurprising conclusion if ever there was one. Then the wrinkled on spoke.

“Very well, we will bring those to you. If you would just wait here—"

“No.”

They all flinched, including the guards. Chef would never get tired of that.

“I go see Mirri and dad of Mirri. Teach cook time.”

Annoyed as he was to include the small one, he couldn’t pass up this chance to meet a human cook and learn its techniques. Having to give up some of his own knowledge in trade was bothersome but inevitable. These humans insisted on trading and despicably fair deals.

Chef never thought he’d say it, but he really did miss the goblins.

The two important people looked at each other, walked a bit further away, and whispered to each other. Chef didn’t care enough to pay attention to what they said, but he was confident they were figuring out how best to please him. After all, he was mighty and they were weak.

“Very well,” the wrinkled one said as it approached. “Fresk will take you to them.”

Chef looked around but didn’t see the metal man anywhere nearby. Was he hiding? Or was the old one suggesting that he wait for another person just to guide him?

“Where is Fresk?”

They looked at him for a moment as silence fell upon them.

Did I say something weird?

“It’s me, Mr. Chef. I’m Fresk.”

The handsome one spoke, proving that humans also had a sense of human.

“Can not be. No one hide that face. Too good. Where is Fresk?”

Silence fell again as the handsome one turned redder than anyone he’d ever seen. Excluding the people he’d killed of course, but they changed color on the inside. No, this human changed skin color right before his very eyes which was a very strange thing to do indeed. Everyone looked around awkwardly until someone finally coughed. Then they all looked at the perpetrator, a nameless guard who definitively didn’t matter and had the audacity to draw attention to themselves. The group glare was enough to get them to shuffle away and stop paying attention to them.

“Right, well, shall we go, Mr. Chef?”

He didn’t know why they insisted on this charade, but Chef decided to play along for now.

“Yes. Lead to Mirri and dad of Mirri, ‘Fresk’.”

Another cough was the only response, the handsome one still quite red.