As each day passed the blanket of snow that covered the land grew ever thicker and whiter and the noses and ears of the goblins grew a bit redder. The whistling of a flying arrow was abrupted by the sound of flesh being pierced, followed by a loud crunch of snow. The perfectly white blanket now had a growing stain of red on it.
“Ooh! That was a big elk!” A goblin laughed. “The chief’s going to be happy with this one.”
The goblin who got the kill shook his head. “Quit messing around, get that corpse on the sleigh before the blood runs out. Don’t you want some elk sausage?”
A pair of hunters quickly ran over to the corpse and dragged it on a shabby wooden sleigh, pulled by one of the shiny goats. “Sausage with goat cheese and Supple Springers? Quit making me think of food, you’re going to make me drool Rugum.”
“Yeah, don’t be a glutton Zotnik, we need to save food for the winter. The girls need the food too,” Rugum said calmly.
"The girls?" Zotnik. "You want to impress someone with your hunt? Ha! What girl in the camp wouldn't lay with you?" The goblin joked, but Rugum's expression remained stoic. Before he could respond, Zotnik waved his hand dismissively. “I know, you care not for women. Only for the hunt!" He spoke in a poor impression of Rugum, comically imitating his deep voice. "Anyway, why didn’t the chief show up today? He usually comes with us.”
Rugum sighed. “He’s been acting... odd ever since some of the girls gave birth. Then again, he’s always been somewhat different... To say the least,” Rugum spoke with great care. He did not want to insult his leader directly, but it was a consensus that their leader was not a normal goblin.
Zotnik snorted. “Yeah, you could say that again! What kind of guy only sleeps with one girl! Hahaha!" He chuckled heartily. "Well, at least he's not mad like Voglo!"
"Voglo's mad?" Rugum asked in disbelief. "I think he's rather intelligent."
"Oh yeah? Well, you're not the one he forced to scarf down a load of blue moss! I had the runs for days after that!" Zotnik protested.
Rugum was fed up with the chit-chat and gestured to Zotnik to remain silent. "Enough, get that arrow back, the smiths worked hard to make those iron arrowheads, we can't afford to lose them."
"Right right, I saw how those guys worked hard. They took a bunch of swords and melted them down into an unusable heap." Zotnik complained as he retrieved the arrow from the elk's neck.
Eventually, they returned to their camp with their quarry, the butchers happily took the elk carcass and began to process it on the spot. Some of the girls were carrying their babies, wrapped up in endless layers of blankets. Rugum waved at one of the babies and its smile brought out a gentle warmth in the air.
"What are you doing!" A shrill voice pierced through the camp. "You've destroyed this wolf pelt!"
Rugum went towards the noise and he stumbled upon a typical scene. It was Olma, she was yelling at one of the artisan girls over some piece of fur, again.
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"How are we supposed to work with this? It's totally ruined!" Olma grabbed the piece of pelt and showed a large hole that missing from its centre. "How are we supposed to make a cloak from this!"
"I don't understand! When I got that pelt, it was fine!" The girl cried.
"Don't make excuses!" Olma raised her hand, but before she could strike Rugum caught it.
"What do you think you are doing?" He asked in a calm tone.
The other girl quickly scurried away, and Olma retracted her hand. "I was about to discipline that foolish girl, for ruining this pelt!" She showed him the cut hole in the piece of fur. "Before you butted in."
Rugum had witnessed that girl gave an offering of an elegant stone necklace adorned with well-carved shapes and decorations to the chief in the previous banquet. The chief had accepted it with some enthusiasm, and put it on the next day. The chief rarely paid attention to who gave him offerings, but that did not mean that others didn't.
"Just because you are favoured by the chief, does not give you the right to behave like this," Rugum sternly warned.
Olma's face scrunched up and she scoffed. "I have the right to discipline others because I am the best craftsman here." She harrumphed and went away in the other direction
Upon returning to the compound, Rugum had to wash his face and hands. The chief insisted on this. He said it improved hygiene and prevented disease spread. He wasn’t sure about things like that, but he did note that no one had caught any colds this year, so it might have been true. But in all honesty, Rugum had more faith in Voglo with regards to healing and disease.
Rugum entered the main hall of the mineshaft, where his Mighty Leader was sitting on his throne, his face was shrouded in thought. Gild's gaze was intense, but it was focused on some random part of the room, only after Rugum cleared his throat that the leader took note of him.
Gild sat up straight. “Rugum? Are you done with your hunt?” he asked.
“Indeed, we managed to slay an elk.” He replied matter-of-factly.
His face smiled a bit. “Good job.” Gild stood up straight from his throne. “I have a special mission for you, Rugum.”
Rugum’s ears twitched. He worried whether this was going to be some sort of risky gambit again. He had to admit that, technically so far their tribe had been successful, but at the cost of his own tribemates lives.
“Yes, my lord?”
One could see a golden glimmer in Gild's eyes as his grin widened. “Right, I know there is a village nearby us. I want you to scout it out.”
“Scout out a human village?” Rugum was confused.
“Indeed, find out things like how many people they have, how strong they are, their resources, and so on.”
Rugum's face darkened and years fell. “Chief! Please reconsider!” He shouted, gaining the attention of some passing goblins.
Gild's brow furrowed, and his grin slowly turned into a frown. "I believe you are misunderstanding something, we are not going to attack them. That would depend on the information you gather."
Rugum puffed up his chest. "Please tell me what are you planning to do, as the Head Hunter, I have the right to know."
Gild frown was now completely replaced by a scowl, but then it relaxed and he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Right, I just want to establish a connection that might be mutually beneficial."
Upon hearing those words, Rugum's fear turned into perplexity. "You mean you wish to trade with them?"
"Yes indeed, a village this far out can't be too prosperous. And at a vulnerable time like winter, anyone would be strapped for cash. I am simply looking at all potential avenues for growth." Gild took a sip of some fermented berry juice.
Rugum's heartbeat eased. “I will depart tonight.” Before Gild could say anything else, Rugum rushed out of the camp, and once more assembled his hunting squad.
Once the sun had set, Rugum and his troop departed towards the village under the cover of night. The crafters produced lots of leather and clothes, so they hadn’t felt too cold during the night, and their large snowshoes masked the sound of their footsteps. Their journey did not take very long, and soon the tiny hamlet was in their sights.
The houses were small and rundown, made of wattle and daub. One could see holes missing in their walls and gaps in the thatched roofs. Even the smoke that rose from their chimneys seemed weak. There weren’t many houses, Rugum had counted 15 in all. 2 buildings stood out. One was a larger version of the regular house, one could hear muffled laughter and conversation going on inside. The other building was made of stone, it had pointed roofs and see-through windows. It stood in the middle of the town. It was a stout little stone tower its walls were cracked and covered in shrivelled vines.
Rugum circled the town, he had used his [Stealth (Budding)] skill which he had acquired through constant hunting. He was confident that no human peasant would be able to spot him, not only thanks to his skill but also in part due to his small stature.
The town had been less than underwhelming, disappointing. They had fences made for animals, but no animals in them and their fields were empty and covered in snow. The only things that provided any interest were the two buildings with hanging wooden planks with symbols drawn on them. One Rugum recognised as being a blacksmith due to a furnace being drawn on it, and the other was filled with people so he did not approach.
Satisfied with his level of investigation, Rugum journeyed back home to report his findings. By the time he arrived, it was morning. But even if they could conquer it, the price would be too much.