When stalking someone, the sweet spot between getting caught and losing them is a fine line. A line that was made infinitely harder for Ratface by having to aggressively hop after her target. The Granny at least didn’t set too gruelling a pace for her to keep up with thought with the hopping it still left her gasping for breath.

The rat didn’t help either. It just sat on her shoulder making hopping even harder. They passed a whole day like that before old’ granny finally took the opportunity to set up camp. Ratface took the time while the old woman was setting up her camp to crawl her way closer. When she was close enough that she could see the fire, she settled in to wait.

The old woman sat down and ate her dinner and Ratface was reminded that she so far today she had only had quarter of a sandwich to eat. Which she’d shared with a rat. If there was any of that stew left in the end, she might take that too.

After the agony of watching the older woman eat it wasn’t long before she settled down. She got up once to check the perimeter of her camp. That had Ratface pushing herself into the grass and hoping the woman wouldn’t see her. She wanted to run away but knew any movement would just confirm she was there. The old woman walked closer and closer to Ratface before stopping. If she just looked a little to the left, then she would see her.

The old woman walked back to her camp and lay down in her bed. She didn’t take her armour off which was smart out here in the wops. Ratface watched her intently. She listened to the woman’s breathing until it began to relax. Once it did, she still waited another half an hour before moving. When she did, she crawled through the grass. She moved with agonising slowness. One part of her told her to rush in there and take the risk but she knew that was a trap. She had eight hours to grab that health potion, she didn’t need to rush.

When she first moved into the light, she paused to look at the old woman. She had lots of wrinkles with a face that looked like it was used to smiling. Crucially, her face was relaxed enough that Ratface didn’t think she’d wake up any time soon.

The rat during all this was already exploring the camp. It scampered around and investigated the pot, the bag, basically anywhere but the old woman herself. It was annoying how silent it was even as it scrambled up the bag to look around. No wonder it had snuck into Ratface’s bag without her knowing.

Inch by inch Ratface crawled closer. She let out a slow breath when she finally got to the bag. Her bad foot had been dragged around with her tonight the entire time and it was throbbing with pain now she could take a moment to acknowledge it. Her original plan had been to take the potion and run but the thought of doing that made her want to scream.

She fished out the health potion. It was the same colour as blood, but she had it on good authority that it tasted like raspberry. She grabbed the cork stoppered lid and pulled it out. It made the faintest pop as she opened it.

Ratface looked up in alarm. Had the old woman woken up? No. She was still there snoozing away. Ratface looked at the open bottle. Was she meant to drink this or put it on the wound? It had instructions written on it, but she didn’t know how to read anything but goblin.

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“You put one drop on the wound first and then drink some depending,” an old voice said.

“Thank you,” said Ratface. Then her eyes widened as she realised who’d been speaking. The old woman was sitting up and watching her.

Ratface went to move but the old woman was quicker. She grabbed onto Ratface. One hand wrapped around her arm while the other steadied the hand holding the potion. Her grip was firm but gentle. It wouldn’t hurt Ratface unless she tried to struggle.

Ratface immediately tried to do so and found the woman moved with her, doing her best not to hurt Ratface as Ratface did her best to get free. After a little while of this Ratface accepted she wasn’t getting out and stopped moving.

Running from the village and starving for a month and now she dies at an adventurer. It was unfair!

The tears wanted to come but Ratface didn’t let them. A goblin couldn’t cry in front of another race. They’d take advantage of it. It was the first lesson her mum had taught her.

Now that the old woman could see she wasn’t moving, she relaxed her grip.

“That was some good stealth for a kid with a bung leg. How’d that happen?” the old woman asked. Ratface said nothing.

“My names Abigail, you can call me Abby if you want. What’s your name?” she tried again. Still Ratface didn’t say anything. The old woman, Abigail, sighed then looked at the leftover stew. She watched as Ratface’s eyes lingered on it and the old woman’s face split into a grin that fit her wrinkles.

“Want some chow?” she asked.

Still Ratface didn’t say anything, but her stomach gurgled a response for her. Abigail chuckled and let go of Ratface. Ratface thought about running but figured it wouldn’t do much. She might as well have a meal before she died.

Abigail poured a bowl for Ratface then gave her a spoon and popped it in front of her. She leaned back against a log which creaked under her armour and eyed Ratface thoughtfully. Ratface searched the old woman’s face but didn’t find any malice in there. She put the health potion down carefully, like her life depended on it because it did. Then she dug into the stew.

It was really good! The meat was well cooked and there were even vegetables and spices in it! Of course, Ratface had brought the ultimate spice with her; hunger. The two sat in silence while Ratface stuffed her ratface. After a while her rat companion came and joined her, and she grudgingly gave the little sneak some food too.

“My name’s Ratface,” she said. Her stomach was full, and it made her sleepy but she fought to stay awake, “Is this the part when you kill me?”

Abigail looked at her in confusion.

“Why would I be killing you?” she asked.

“The villages,” Ratface began. She gestured with the spoon in the air as if to signify them, “they told you to take care of me.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I know what that euphemism means.”

“Ah,” Abigail said. Her face turned up to a grin. “There has been a miscommunication. I don’t hunt goblins.”

Ratface snorted. Sure she didn’t.

“I don’t,” Abigail insisted, “and I definitely wouldn’t waste good stew on them if I was going to.”

Ratface paused at that. She supposed she had to concede that. It was pretty good stew. The old woman picked up the health potion. She put a couple of drops into Ratface’s stew then put a drop on her leg. The throbbing immediately began to ebb.

“When they asked me to take care of you, they literally meant it. The villagers don’t have enough food for you so they asked me to take you somewhere they might.”

Ratface tried to keep her eyes open, but it was a struggle. The food plus the lack of pain plus the assurance that she wasn’t about to die was doing a lot for her.

“If you kill me in my sleep, I’ll be sure to haunt you,” Ratface threatened.

“I’ll be sure to take that under advisement,” Abigail said. She slipped a pillow under Ratface’s head then put a blanket over her.

Well, it’d be rude to stay awake after that. Ratface did the polite thing and fell asleep.