You did not find vampires. They found you but there was one breed that was even better at feeding off death then the undead and Old Badger said they would ask them for help. The first order of business had been killing a rabbit. Little Ant did as she was told, but it was the first time in since she was eight that she felt ashamed for hunting. Hunting for food was one thing but killing just to leave the body to rot in the sun felt like a crime. A sin against nature.

“Forgive me.” Little Ant said to the rabbit before bringing down her knife.

Once the rabbit was dead, Little Ant returned to Old Badger who was smoking her pipe under a tree.

“Now what?” Little Ant asked.

“Now we wait.” Old Badger said.

The rabbit was laid down like an offering to a petty god and they sat just far away from the corpse so as not to scare off any carrion eaters. They didn’t have to wait for long and in just a few minutes a dark murder of crows descended on a tree branch above the dead rabbit. They studied the rabbit as one and the black eyes shined with glee.

When the crows arrived, Old Badger stood up and smiled at the flock.

“Good afternoon.” Old Badger said.

The murder of crows looked at her and then laughed. They had an ugly laugh that reminded Little Ant of a group of evil old men mocking someone else’s misfortune.

“Good for us maybe but for two lone goblins with no tribe? We don’t think it’s all that good for you.” The crows said.

Little Ant grimaced and considered picking up a stone to throw at the cackling birds, but grandmother just smiled.

“I suppose not but we do have a gift for you. Maybe you could give us some directions in return.” Old Badger said.

The crows let out another chorus of mean laughter.

“Directions are worth more than one dead rabbit.”

Suddenly what the bear prince had said came back to her. About what had happened to his brother’s body. How a princeling of the Bear Clan had been reduced to crow food and his soul had died.

“What about a skin-changer? I helped kill a skin-changer and left his body for the crows.” Little Ant said.

The words made her feel sick and for a moment she could understand His Terrible Highness’s anger. Just like the rabbit, his own brother had been left to rot.

The crows fell silent hearing this and grandmother looked… impressed. And saddened.

“It was you?” The crows said.

“Me. The viscount and… His Savage Highness.” Little Ant said.

The way the crows laughed was starting to grate her and she wished she could have just covered her ears.

“What a noble band of murderers.” The crows said: “We would love to eat your eyes and see the world the way a bear killer does.”

More mean laughter echoed through the forest.

“Very well. What do you want to know, little goblins?” The crows asked.

“We’re looking for a nest of vampires. We were hoping you would know something about that.” Old Badger said.

The way the eyes of the crows shined told Little Ant everything she needed to know. Vampires and crows were natural allies. The vampires spread death everywhere they went but only took the blood, leaving the crows with the rest. The crows put their heads together and whispered amongst each other for a moment.

“We have come to a conclusion.” The crows said.

“I am glad to hear it.” Old Badger said.

“We will show you the way to Cobbler’s Hold.” The crows said.

“Thank you.” Old Badger said.

“And when you die, we will eat your eyes.” The crows said.

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The crows cackled amongst themselves and then took flight. From there on, Little Ant and Old Badger followed their flying guides who always stayed just ahead of them. But their road did not always go through just The Wyrding. Sometimes the crows would fly past the Wyrd Stones and take them to the kingdom of men.

In her tribe… former tribe, young goblins had always been warned to not cross the Wyrd Stones and avoid humans. When Little Ant had been tasked with heading over to Garuccia to ask help from the viscount and the fox prince, the whole tribe had acted like she was off to war.

When she walked past the Wyrd Stones and seen the kingdom of men, she had understood why goblins feared men.

The sight of human settlements still haunted her. She could not understand people who would want to live in them. The land was not meant to support such large number of hungry mouths for long. Now every time she saw a village, it felt like she was looking at a parasitic mushroom growing from a tree. The mushroom would eat the tree until the tree was nothing more than an empty husk and then the tree and the mushroom would die.

But the worst part was that the villages didn’t hurt just the land but the people living in them. Diseases were rampant in such clustered places, and everything was covered in filth. The people had to work themselves to the bone to rip their meager living off a land that didn’t want them there. Villages were prisons of men’s own making. Seeing what villages did to people made her grateful to have been born a goblin that worshipped the Quiet.

The first tenet of the Quiet. Go where there is no Path and leave a trail.

“Is it true that humans don’t have Paths?” Little Ant asked.

Grandmother scratched her brow when she heard the question.

“They did once. Many of them followed the Balefire the way King Eld had. Then the god on the cross came and they abandoned the old ways.” Grandmother said while looking sadly at the human village: “Now I fear they walk the Path of Civilization.”

Path of Civilization? Just the name made her shudder, and she could feel its shape. What it offered. A monstrous thing that demanded a constant sacrifice of blood, sweat, tears and pain.

“How could anyone choose to live like that?” Little Ant wondered.

“They were tricked. It always starts simply. A wandering tribe realizes that if they tend to the land a little, they can eat more. More food means more children will be born. Which means they need to tend more land. This keeps going and going until they have enslaved themselves to the land. All they can do is toil from morning to night so they can grow even more.” Grandmother said and put her hand Little Ant’s shoulder: “Don’t hate them or judge them. Pity them. They are marching to their own doom because of one mistake made before any of them were even born.”

Little Ant looked at the village again. That was no way to live, and she hoped she could have saved them from their evil Path. That the fox prince could ever have chosen Garuccia over The Wyrding proved beyond any doubt that he was insane.

Blessing of the Quiet upon you, Little Ant thought when she saw people working on the fields.

“We can’t ever let that Path spread into The Wyrding.” Little Ant said.

Old Badger smiled at the mention of that.

“A king of Garuccia once tried to conquer The Wyrding.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. He was a madman and cruel to boot. He gathered his armies and ordered the Wyrd King to bow. The Wyrd King did not bow and showed why he rules The Wyrding and not some human king.”

Then grandmother’s face hardened.

“That human king was no Stradheim.”

House Stradheim… It was a story few knew and rarely told. You did not mention the Devil by name unless you wanted to invite him to your home.

“I’ve never heard that story.” Little Ant said quietly.

Grandmother glanced at the sun.

“Maybe you should. Some tales should never be forgotten.”

Little Ant slowed her pace to match grandmother’s and listened intently.

“Baron Stradheim was once a human lord tasked guarding one of the roads between Garuccia and Osetaria. He was a great man. Explorer, warrior, and scholar. There was no task he didn’t excel at. But curiosity without caution can be dangerous and the baron was a dangerous man.” Grandmother said.

Monsters and heroes… were two sides of the same coin. Heroes could be a guiding light, but they could lead you astray if you weren’t careful.

“One day the baron was exploring The Wyrding when he found tunnels that led deep into the darkest parts of The Wyrding. He wandered in and came back… changed. He started worshipping the darkest of gods and built an altar to them in his castle where he started planning his war.”

Suddenly the sun could not drive away the dread that gripped Little Ant’s heart.

“Not since Girusai had The Wyrding seen such a threat. The black dragon had caught us unaware but even after the Wyrd King had built his armies and defenses, the baron proved to be the greatest threat to his rule. It was a war that lasted for years.”

“But we won.” Little Ant said.

“Yes. We won but men like the baron have to win only once, and they know it.” Grandmother said.

Idea of a world ruled by a master vampire made her shiver, but it was easy to ignore what could have happened in the sun. For now, she was content to enjoy her adventure with grandmother and this was starting to feel like an adventure. When you had a goal to walk towards to, it was easier to stay few steps ahead of despair.

While following the crows, they lived off the land like Sparrow had taught her and at night slept in their own tents.

Every evening before lying down she would train with her spear. When she had started her training with the spear, her paws had bled for days and sometimes the agony had been bad enough to keep her awake at night but then the skin in her palms had calloused and she could train for hours without a scratch. She would thrust her spear endlessly against the tree trunk, driving it deeper and deeper until her back was slick with sweat. Occasionally she would do slashing attacks as well, but the thrusts were always the main use for a spear.

Grandmother would watch her train while enjoying her pipe and then one evening, she picked up her staff.

“Would you like to spar?” Grandmother said.

Little Ant looked at her surprised. She had never seen grandmother train but the way she held her staff made her feel like she was in the presence of a master.

“You sure?” Little Ant asked.

Grandmother scratched her brow and smiled.

“It would be interesting to see if I still got it.”

They took their stances, but Little Ant couldn’t help but be weary. Grandmother was lean and fit for her age, but she was old. Her hair was the color of iron and snow, and her skin was wrinkled. She might have been a force to be reckoned with in her youth but at that age…

Old Badger’s staff shot towards her like a striking snake and Little Ant could almost feel it going straight through her head… but then she just tapped her gently in the forehead. But the surprise was enough to knock her off her feet and lose grip of her spear. Before she could pick it up, grandmother’s staff was pointed at her throat.

“One point for me.” Grandmother said and smiled: “Best out of three?”

“… how…?”

“I just moved while you were still thinking of moving.” Grandmother said and helped her back on her feet: “Nothing more to it.”

Little Ant thought it over and then raised her spear again.

“Best out of three.” Little Ant said.

Grandmother smiled.

“Best out of three.” She agreed.

Even with two more chances, her spear could never reach grandmother. She was faster and stronger of the two but whenever she stood before grandmother, it felt like she was wading through mud.

“Enough.” Grandmother said when Little Ant was knocked off her feet for the seventh time.

“I can still keep going.” Little Ant said.

“I can’t.” Grandmother said and Little Ant noticed how her paws were shaking: “This is enough for the day.”

That night she felt bruises forming like the first time she had picked up a spear, but it just made her feel like an adventurer. Like she had taken a step towards the two greatest heroes of goblin kind. Hard Wasp, who had trained King Eld himself in the use of a spear, and Good Robin. A goblin who had studied in Scholomance.

I will be remembered as a hero, Little Ant thought.

But her own tent was also a seed of a new tribe. If she became a hero, other goblins would flock around her, and she could form her own tribe. As the head of her tribe, she would need a husband and…

Image of the viscount flashed in her mind.

Little Ant sighed when she felt her mind wander and become cluttered. To clear her head, she sat cross-legged inside her tent and began meditating. She concentrated only on her breathing. The way she sucked in air and then exhaled it. Something she could never do for long but that was part of the process. Accepting that you could not control your thoughts. So instead, she just studied them and then let them go until she felt calm.

With her mind cleared, she was finally able to sleep.