We said farewell to the hospitable river trolls and continued south along the river’s west bank. Wren said we would reach the trail into the goblin kingdom of Gorgurak tomorrow at our current pace. Sometimes we made small talk, and other times we walked in silence. It was the first time in a long time that I could indulge myself in idle thoughts. I pondered what Gork said, that I was tied to Andray’s soul. What did that mean for me? It felt right to always be by his side, but why? Was my boy destined for some great fate that required my presence to fulfill it? I wanted to know why.
It just seemed odd to me. Motley Owl followed my boy because he chose to do so, but I followed because this was how I was made. Would there ever be a time when I followed my heart instead of Andray? The quiet forest and the noisy river had no answers for me.
It rained during the night after we left the trolls. Lousy weather was something you never read about in all those adventure books. No one ever dwells on the romance of rain falling all night and being soaked to the skin, miserable, and cold come morning. It kept raining the following day. We were a sorry-looking bunch and felt just as bad as we looked. At least my boy’s wyvern-skin coat kept most of him dry. Too bad there wasn’t something to keep me dry.
Because of the weather, Wren missed the turnoff for the trail to Gorgurak. By the time she realized it, we had to backtrack. The delay meant another night spent in the pouring rain.
“What are you doing, Owl?” Wren asked when he took Cloud Eye’s axe and attacked a pine with it.
“Shelter,” he said between axe blows.
“The rain will continue through tomorrow, Wren,” Cloud Eye commented. He would know since he had weather sense among his various talents.
“You boys are soft,” Wren humphed.
“No, you are insane,” Cloud Eye replied. “Cat Rider isn’t used to this way of living yet, and Fuzzy is miserable because she won’t leave Cat to suffer while she finds a lovely fir tree to hide under. As for me, I would like to spread out my bedroll instead of sleeping huddled under my cloak tonight.
“Hmph,” Wren was just a little too full of herself as far as toughing it out in the wilderness was concerned. Me? I had gotten spoiled, sleeping under a roof for the last three and a half years. If I could have helped Motley Owl to make a shelter, I would.
When the tree fell, Owl cleared the branches under the trunk to make space, turning the trunk into a slanting roof beam. Cloud Eye cut branches off surrounding trees and laid them on the trunk to build a roof. It took about an hour, but we had a dry place to sleep. I didn’t see Roaming Wren complaining about being able to sleep in a dry bedroll.
We headed out the next morning. The trail took us west, away from the river. Soon the trees thinned out. By the noon hour, we were on a gradual downhill slope as the fir and pine trees gave way to a terrain populated by spread-out limber pines and desert cedar. The rain lightened up and finally stopped in the late afternoon.
“How much further to civilization?” Cat asked Wren.
“We’ll get to the first goblin settlement tomorrow,” she shook the excess water out of her hair. “I hope we don’t have a repeat of hostility over Cat’s identity as a human. The goblins have not fared well at the hands of the human kingdoms, especially Nordvek, their next-door neighbor.”
“Sounds like humans don’t get along with anyone who isn’t human,” Cat Rider remarked sourly.
“Humans have a higher birthrate,” Cloud Eye remarked. “So the number of humans keeps going up, and that makes them land greedy. And they have an excess population to turn into soldiers to take land that belongs to other races. I’m afraid most wars over the last millennium were started by humans wanting to take someone else’s land for their own. That has a lot to do with why humans are so popular with other races.”
“Yes, I already know all of that,” Cat sounded just a tad defensive. “But here’s an oddity for you. That’s not what I learned when I had to study history. The reasons were always that dwarves monopolized mineral reserves to drive up prices, or goblins stole livestock, or there was a land dispute over a border or some such. Someone else was always at fault when there was a war. So tell me, do the other races also lie to themselves about the causes of war?”
“No, they don’t,” Wren stated with certainty.
“And you’re sure about that without researching past wars?” Cat rebutted. “Twenty-four years ago, every single inhabitant of Sendor’s Crossing was killed, right down to the pet dogs and cats, by a band of elven warriors led by your great uncle, Proud Elk. The dispute was over a one-schilling increase in the bridge toll on a bridge that Nordvek built and maintained. That was the first act in what became a three-year war. My point is that everyone lies to themselves and lies about others to justify the atrocities of war and other armed acts of violence. We are all complicit. So tell me, Wren, what do the elves say was the reason the war started?”
“Nordvek wanted to build a road through elven territory to facilitate trade. The bridge was the first step in that. The elves didn’t want the bridge for that reason. We didn’t want the bridge, the road, the trade, or humans on our side of the river.” Wren glowered at Cat, “Pushy humans didn’t heed what the elves did or did not want.”
“And yet, both elven and human traders were drowning at the ford where Nordvek later built the bridge. The trade was happening anyway,” Cat pointed it out. “Let’s circle back to my original point: both sides of every conflict adjust facts to suit their own cause.”
Owl cleared his throat loudly, “What about humans stealing land?” He looked uncomfortable in bringing it up again.
“You got me there,” Cat smiled and shrugged. “Humans have done that too often for me to defend it.”
“It’s a shame you don’t want to be king of Nordvek,” Cloud said. “With your perception and intelligence, you would be a great king, at least as far as diplomacy is concerned.”
“Please, Cloud,” Cat looked worried, “I care a little about the place because my father, assuming he’s still alive, loves Nordvek and its people. All I want is for Willam to be a good ruler, and then I will find a quiet place far from my stepmother’s relatives, set out my shingle as a mage for hire, and happily overcharge rich people for my services so I can give them away to the poor who need them more. I do not want to be a king. It’s too much work, and I’m lazy.”
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Wren spread out her cloak and then sat on it in the middle of the road. “Now, I’ve been here before, so I’m not a stranger, but the four of you are, so we will go through the proper steps to be invited into the village.” She then put her mask on. “I recommend we all wear our masks, but be prepared to take them off when I tell you. And let me do the talking since I know these folks.”
Goblin heads were peering over the top of the palisade around the village to watch us. I noticed the spears disappeared as soon as we spread our cloaks and sat down. Cat had a coat, so he sat next to Wren on her cloak.
Looking around, the goblin village looked like any other farming village, human or elven. Neat fields of growing winter wheat vied with pastures full of cows, newly-born calves, and happy fat sheep not yet shorn of their winter fleece. The village itself was inside a sturdy palisade. They closed the gates as soon as they noticed us.
Before they closed the gates, I could see houses inside painted in various bright colors. The inhabitants covered the streets with hay to combat the springtime mud.
A sally port opened in the palisade, and a goblin in a bright red coat came out. He was a little thing, just about a yard and a half high. His head was more round than oval. He was also very green: green skin, dark green eyes, and green hair. The red coat was a jarring contrast. He stopped about three yards from us and looked us over.
“I greet you, friend Roaming Wren,” he said in a normal-sounding tenor. “May I ask why you come with masks on all your faces?”
“It is to comfort a friend, so he is not ridiculed while we travel together,” she removed her mask but kept it in her hand. She signaled for everyone to remove their masks. Cat hesitated.
“You only need to show your face once, Cat,” she said kindly.
Cat Rider lowered his hood, took off his mask, and looked at the goblin with the horrific scar in plain sight.
“I understand,” he bowed to Cat. Everyone put their masks back on.
The goblin turned to me, “I see from the color of your eyes that you should understand me.”
*My friend with the scarred face lost his leg in the same fire that scarred him. I carry him for friendship’s sake. My friends call me Fuzzy.*
“I am honored to meet you, Lady Fuzzy. You are the first divine beast I have ever met. I am Petel. As the head of our Village of Cedar Stands, you are welcome to our hearths and our hearts. Are you five on your two years of adventure, and are you here to help with our wolf problem? We have lost over twenty sheep, and one cow to wolves this winter and can not endure many more losses.”
*Indeed, we are here to hunt wolves, as your queen sent Roaming Wren home last year with an invitation to come here and help.*
The little goblin smiled, his white teeth contrasting with his green skin. “You are most welcome to our village. Please, please, come in. Let me treat you to a pot of tea while we prepare the guest house. Now, Lady Fuzzy, We’ve never entertained a divine beast before. What sort of foods do you eat?”
*Are there any deer or antelope or other ruminants about? Ruminants are my preferred meal of choice. I can hunt them if they are in the area. If not, raw meat is what I prefer. I can eat cooked meat too, but it doesn’t taste very good to me.*
“We have many antelope in the area,” Petel remarked, “so many that we must chase them away in the autumn to keep them from the orchards. We won’t miss the ones you hunt.” He flashed a smile that said I should take as many as possible. “You look just like a mountain cat, Lady Fuzzy, so some residents may hide from you. I beg you to overlook their rudeness.”
*I understand. I will not be offended.*
“May I ask the rest of your names?” Petel inquired.
“I am Cat Rider,” my boy piped up. “I’m always with Fuzzy.”
“I am Motley Owl,” the tall elf youth bowed politely from his seated position.
“I am Cloud Eye,” the shorter elf performed the same bow.
“We are delighted to host you while you help us with our wolf problem,” Petel bowed again. “ Our cattle losses have been hard. Too bad there are not enough of you to hunt the wyverns, too.”
“Well, actually,” my boy interjected. “We can hunt wyverns. It’s just a matter of finding them.”
Petel was incredulous, “How can you hunt a wyvern with just five people? Don’t you need at least 20 people?”
“Petel, friend,” Wren answered with a grin, “all we need is Cat Rider. He can take a wyvern down on his own. He’s a mage, a very good mage. See his coat and our cloaks? They’re wyvern skin, made from the one he killed two years ago. It was a snow wyvern, which is why the cloaks and coat are white.”
“You took down a wyvern?” Petel was gaping.
Cat nodded, looking a little embarrassed.
“Well, friends, what are we doing in the middle of the lane? Come in! Come in and have tea while we freshen up the guest house.” Petel motioned the party to follow him.
Everyone but Cat got up. Cat was aligning his fake leg so he could get up on his own, but Owl got behind him and picked him up.
“I wish you would warn me when you do that,” Cat rolled his eyes, not at all angry.
“More fun this way,” Owl looked pleased with himself.
I don’t know what I expected from a village full of goblins, but other than being green, they were like people from any other farming settlement. The only oddities were the smell of the village, which reminded me of mushrooms, and the riot of color inside the palisade. The goblins painted their buildings in bright colors, where every side was a different color, with the shutters in contrasting colors. Some houses had shingled sides, where every shingle was a different color.
We stopped at Petel’s home for tea. The inside of his house was no different than the outside: it smelled like mushrooms, and every wall was a different color, with the door jambs in contrasting colors.
*Petel, maybe you should paint the poles of the palisade in different colors,* I suggested in jest.
“Lady Fuzzy, what a great idea! I will bring it up at our next village meeting, which is in three days. You all should come. We always have a bit of a party after.”
*Why do you have a palisade?* I had been wondering about that.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“We are just farmers and have no hobgoblins to fight for us since we are just a small village. So we have a palisade to keep out the dangerous animals, like bears and wolves, which find goblin children to be a good meal, sorry to say.”
If the goblins weren’t so green, they could have been from anywhere. The world can be so surprising sometimes.
I told the two-footed ones that it would be quickest if I scouted out where the wolves had their den. This was the third year the village had lost a lot of livestock at the end of winter. The losses were always worse now than at any other time. That suggested they had a wolf family establish a den two years ago. The flocks were a safe and easy protein source for a growing wolf family. The facts all fit.
Though a pack has its own territory, it is always on the move to chase enough prey to survive. Wolf packs are nomadic except at denning time in the early spring. Wolves prefer to return to the same den every year to give birth to their cubs safely at the beginning of warmer weather. I estimated that the wolves hadn’t left the area yet because they had taken down a cow just a few days ago.
If the village wanted the wolves to go away, we needed to attack the den before the cubs were old enough to travel. Once the cubs could keep up with the rest of the family, the pack would start their nomadic hunting pattern for the rest of the year. The pack would travel until the end of the following winter when they returned to the den. The best time to remove the pack was now, before the cubs grew up.
Wolves prefer weaker targets, like the young, the elderly, the injured, and the sick. They won’t chase a young, strong buck when an old doe is an easier target. Livestock like sheep in a confined pasture might as well be the dinner special for wolves. Again, the pack will target to weakest of the flock, but that’s different from what the sheepherders will see. They will view it as a valuable fleece and a future source of mutton destroyed. I had already determined the cow they lost recently was a mother who had a difficult delivery and lost a lot of blood, so she was an obvious target.
“What about other livestock kills during the good weather?” Petel asked me while I was quizzing the goblins about the patterns they observed when they lost sheep.
*Those were probably killed by other wolves traveling through the area. Unless you can find a way to protect the herds at night, you should expect some losses in warmer weather. You can’t predict when traveling wolves will pass through your pastures. The elves use spells to turn wolves away from their livestock. Do you not have mages that can help you protect your flocks?*
That’s when I discovered that goblins use magic different from elven or human magic. Goblin magic only works on non-living things, like dirt and rock and pigments in paint.
I spent the next three days exploring the area around the village to find where the wolves had their den. I did it on my own since none of the two-footed ones could keep up with me, not even Owl.
On the third day, I found the den and was ambushed for my efforts. Wolves are inferior to cougars. Their advantage is their intelligence and ability to work with one another. I found their den, but they found me. I heard my attackers just before they struck. That tiny slice of warning saved me from having my hindquarters shredded, which was the classic move for a hunting wolf.
The den was a dugout under a rocky overhang. I didn’t get a chance to count how many wolves were in the pack or how many mothers were inside with cubs. A pack of wolves is nothing more than an extended family descended from a single breeding pair.
For ruminants like deer, wolves are most effective with two to four hunters. For larger animals like moose, bison, or water buffalo, wolves will hunt with six or more. Those numbers are for cooperative hunts in the winter. In the summer, you will sometimes find young wolves hunting alone or in young breeding pairs off to start their own family in a new territory.
I was lucky there were only two chasing me instead of the whole family group. As it was, I got bit, but not too badly. Comparing wolves to cougars, both are about the same in speed. Wolves have staying power too. They can keep the pace up for long distances. Then again, so can I. I’m bigger, so I am slightly faster. My problem was that bite was bleeding. Running full out opened the wound. With a third of a league left to the village gate, I started getting light-headed. That’s when I realized I was losing too much blood. Even though I knew it was a great distance, I cast the spell for mind talking and put my all into throwing my “voice” as far as I could.
*HELP! WOUNDED! WOLVES!*
I knew I was getting near the edge of my endurance because I started stepping on bunches of burr grass instead of avoiding them. Now I had burrs working their way between the pads on my paws. I would be in a world of hurt if I managed to survive this.
But I had to survive this. How would my boy survive without me? Or maybe, I realized, I needed my boy for me to survive. Did Andray really need me? He could walk with the help of the false leg. He had good friends to help him. He had growing power and expertise as a mage. He didn’t need me anymore. I was the one who needed him.
I heard the snap of wolf jaws just hairs behind my heel. I needed to stop being distracted and put more effort into running. My sides hurt, and my trachea began to feel like someone dragged sandpaper down it with each breath. My feet stung as the burrs dug in deeper.
I would pick a tree in the distance and tell myself that I had to give it my all until that tree. Then I would pass it and choose another tree. After I did that seven or eight times – I was counting, but then I lost track – I lost the ability to keep my eyes on the tree I picked.
A branch struck me in the face. I opened my eyes and realized that I had closed them. This was bad. I was failing. I decided to yell for help again with mind talk, but I couldn’t remember the end of the spell. Then there was a terrible pain as I lost my footing, and something struck my side. I remembered nothing after that.
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Cat Rider sat up in his bedroll, “Fuzzy!”
“What?” Roaming Wren opened her eyes in confusion, waking from a sound sleep.
“Yes, Cat,” Cloud Eye sat up, “I heard it too. Fuzzy’s in trouble, Wren. Get your boots on. Owl, you awake?”
“I am now,” the tall youth had already exited his bedroll and was pulling on the first of his boots.
“If Fuzzy is in trouble,” Wren said in a grumpy half-asleep voice, “how do we find her?” She groped the darkness for her boots.
“Good point,” Cloud Eye stood up to get his bow and quiver. “How do you normally find Fuzzy, Cat?”
“I cast a spell of finding, and then I follow it,” Cat pulled the top of his false leg over his knee.
“You can’t run, Cat,” Wren told Cat apologetically. “We’ll find her and bring her back. You’ll slow us down.”
Cat grimaced and said something foul under his breath.
“I could carry Cat,” Owl volunteered, looking at Cat’s upset face.
“You’re our fastest runner, Owl,” Cloud tied his long hair back into a ponytail. “It’d be bad to slow you down if time is important, and it sounds like it is.”
“I can try casting the finding spell on Owl,” Cat offered. “I’ve never tried it before. I don’t know if it will work, but I can try. There is the danger of bad casting, Owl.”
“I know that,” Owl said, cutting Cat off. “You’re wasting time, so do the casting.”
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Cat held a hand out and used it as a focus. “Ικ ῥοπ δε κρηφτ φαν ‘ε ἱλλιγε Παλας ὀπ ὀμ βοντε ûλε δε ει νει ἰτ γοδλικε βιστ φυζζ τε σjεν!” A soft golden glow surrounded Owl and then sank into him.
“Ow,” Owl flinched.
“What’s wrong?” Cat looked panicked.
“That hurt,” Owl grimaced, “but not too much. I can see the way. She is not far. She fell into the leat for the village mill, and she’s not moving. Two wolves are trying to get down into the gulch where the leat runs. I’m going. You ready?” He picked up his bastard sword and buckler and looked at Wren and Cloud.
“Let’s go.” The three elves ran out of the room and out of the guest house, leaving the front door open. The wind blew in, cold enough to make Cat shiver as he worked to fasten the buckles on his false leg.
“Open it up,” Cloud Eye shouted at the goblin with watch duty at the gate. The young goblin lifted the heavy wooden beam that barred the sally port door from the inside. Owl, Wren, and Cloud were through it without breaking pace into the night.
Owl sped up, “The wolves are in the gulch.” He started to pull ahead of Wren and Cloud with his longer stride.
“Make noise, Owl,” Cloud shouted at him from behind and then cast a spell. “Τροχ δε τρúκjες φαν ‘ε εασελ, Μειε τûζενεν úς στιμμεν εἁρρε!”
“Aaaaaaaaaa!” Owl yelled. Cloud and Wren added their voices. The sound was so loud it made their ears ring painfully. In seconds, no living thing with ears was left sleeping within a league of the village. The three elves didn’t stop yelling until they reached the gulch.
Looking down, Owl saw Fuzzy bleeding from her hindquarters, side, and head. The two wolves were trying to scramble up the other side, spooked by the noise of Cloud Eye’s amplification spell.
Motley Owl took a running leap and landed on the other side of the narrow gulch. He drew his bastard sword and wielded it two-handed, beheading one of the wolves. When he looked up, the other wolf was already dead, with three arrows in its chest. Wren was in the gulch with a light spell cast on her hand, checking for a pulse in Fuzzy’s neck.
“She’s still with us,” Wren pronounced. Cloud Eye produced a small jar of glowing blue powder, uncapped it, and sprinkled it on Fuzzy’s wounds. He pulled a wide roll of linen ribbon out of his belt pouch and bound up those still bleeding.
Owl watched Cloud work and started to shake his head.
“What’s wrong?” Wren asked.
“Fuzzy is not a small mountain cat,” Owl said with a frown. “Hard to carry.”
“We can make a travois,” Wren got up to start cutting down two saplings for the frame. After a second, Owl joined her.
“Do either of you have any twine?” Wren started cutting pine branches to lay across the two sapling poles.
“Don’t need it,” Cloud Eye said as he dragged the limp Fuzzy out of the gulch. Out of breath, Cloud remarked, “I can use the binding wood spell. Just cut enough branches as cross pieces.”
After several invocations of “οὑτ βινδε,” the three elves had a usable travois. It took all three of them to lift Fuzzy onto it. Then they took turns pulling it through the half-mud and half-snow of early spring, one elf on each pole and one elf taking a breather. They were back at the sally port door an hour after they left. Cat Rider was waiting, huddled in his coat along with Petel, the village head. Many curious goblins were standing and watching with lit torches.
“Fuzzy!” Cat was distraught as he limped up to the travois.
“She’ll be fine, Cat,” Cloud sounded confident. “She’s been bitten and has lost some blood. She needs to rest for a few days, and she’ll be fine. It’s good that she’s not awake because she has burrs in her paws, and we need to dig them out. I hear your healing magic is decent, which is good because we’ll need to use it.”
Once Fuzzy was back in the guest house, Owl built up the fire in the woodstove while Cloud Eye made light and Cat tended to Fuzzy’s paws and other wounds. The sky was getting light when Cat finished. He fell asleep next to her, hugging her around her neck.
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The building was on fire. I called for Andray, but there was no reply. I ran down the burning hallway and kicked his door in. He was passed out, probably from the smoke. I had to ram the double door several times before one of the door panels broke. I widened the gap and dragged Andray out onto the balcony with me.
In shock, I saw that someone had tied the door latches together with rope. Someone wanted us dead. I leaned over the balcony rail to look for help. There had to be some of the servants out in front. They could get help.
The park and the driveway out front were empty. We were going to die here. I heard the sickening crack of roof beams breaking. Then the entire facade of the building started to fall forward, taking the balcony with it. I turned to Andray, but he was gone.
There was nothing but burning debris raining down on me, retribution for my failure to protect the boy. Soon I was on fire, screaming from the pain as my skin blistered, melted, and fell off me. A pit opened up where the ground should have been, and I kept falling into the inferno. Darkness overtook me.
“You’ll be fine, child,” my mother told me, her lovely face framed by her blond hair and hazel eyes. She wiped the sweat from my face with a cold, damp cloth. “The fever will break soon, and you will be fine. Rest now.”
I woke on a floor mattress covered with blankets in front of the wood stove. Cat Rider was sleeping next to me. I was confused. I didn’t remember falling asleep last night on a mattress, and certainly not with Cat next to me. What happened with the fire? Who was that woman? Why did she call herself my mother?
Then I remembered the wolves who chased me. It looked like my mind-talking spell worked because someone had rescued me. Were the fire and that strange woman just a dream?
I sat up, which didn’t wake Cat. That surprised me. He must not have slept well. No one else was in the guest house with us. That wasn’t good since I needed to visit the great outdoors to relieve myself. I did think it was strange that I felt so weak and wobbly on my feet.
My next surprise was no pain. Nothing hurt though I remember the bite in my hindquarters and the burrs digging in between my toes. I lifted my left front paw and inspected it. The skin on the pads looked pink and new, and there were no nasty burrs anywhere. My paw smelled like soap. My other front paw did too. No matter how hard I twisted around, I couldn’t see my hindquarters, but I didn’t feel any pain, stiffness, or bandages back there. Someone —Cat or Cloud — had healed me. That might explain the sleeping Cat Rider.
Since the goblins put up winter shutters over the windows, I couldn’t see how late it was by looking outside. I couldn’t avoid it. I had to wake Cat. I used my usual method for waking him and licked his face with my big wet tongue.
“Fuzzy, that’s disgusting!” Cat sat up. “Why do you persist in doing that?” I loved that annoyed look on his face. Then it vanished, and he hugged me, “You’re finally awake. We’ve all been so worried about you. You came down with wound fever. You’ve been out for three days.”
What? Three days? It must have been a bad fever. That would explain the fire and my human mother: they were fever dreams.
It took some effort, but I managed to cast the mind talk spell. *Cat, I need to go outside and empty my bladder.*
“On it, Fuzzy.” He had fallen asleep with his false leg still on. He aligned it so he could get up to a kneeling position and then stood up, using my shoulder for balance. He carefully walked to the front door and opened it for me. He was still there a few minutes later when I scratched at it to go back in.
“I filled a bucket with water, Fuzz,” he scratched behind my ears. “You need to drink some after a bad fever like that.”
I didn’t think I was thirsty, but I emptied the bucket and wanted more. Cat was already waiting with a pitcher of water. That water was gone as soon as he poured it into the bucket.
I stumbled back to the floor mattress and laid back down. I was not feeling like myself. I had no energy. All I wanted to do was to rest some more. Cat covered me with some blankets. Then he sat down next to me so I could see him without lifting my head, “I can’t believe I fell asleep. We’ve been taking turns watching you. I must have been more tired than I thought. I want you to rest for a few days, Fuzzy. You lost a lot of blood, and then you had that fever.”
*I am not fragile,* I protested. *All I need is some food, and I’ll be fine.*
“You think?” he gave me an exasperated look. “See this?” He produced a plate covered with bloody burrs and tuffs of my fur, “Cloud and I pulled out 42 burrs from your paws. It took hours; by the time we finished, it was dawn, and you were already running a fever. There will be no hunting for you for a couple of days. You lost a lot of blood, survived wound fever, and you need to recover. This is not negotiable.”
Roaming Wren returned shortly after that.
“You finally woke up,” Wren smiled as she pulled off her boots. “We earned our first two gold for those wolves who chased you, Fuzzy. Owl and I followed your tracks back to the den. The boys are out right now, counting up how many wolves live there. Once we know that, we can make a plan to get rid of them. We need to finish up here as fast as we can.”
“Oh?” Cat straightened up. This was news to him too.
“Petel sent a message to Kizdangengar, the goblin capital, reporting our arrival. He mentioned that you, Cat, had magic that worked against wyverns.” Wren had apology written all over her face, “the Goblin Queen requests our presence to hunt down a wyvern nest. Her courier arrived with four horses to speed up our trip.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Cat looked confused.
“There’s a problem,” Wren grimaced. “She’s invited another group that has also brought down a wyvern. Its nominal commander is Prince Willam Nordvek.”