“We must be nearly there,” said Marina, carefully stepping over the sopping wet pools that had flooded the grass. “I can’t believe this place is so…waterlogged.”

“What did you think a fen was?” asked Friedrich.

“I thought it was a field!”

“When you hear fen, remember that it’s a wetland from now on,” said Friedrich, hopping across a pool to a direr patch of land. “Besides, at least you have boots that go up to your knees. Mine only go halfway up my shins.”

“My boots aren’t the problem,” said Marina. “When either of us make a splash, the water goes up my dress!”

“Then it’s your fault for wearing a dress when we’re out adventuring!”

“I don’t have any other clothes!”

“We just came from Fallswych. You could have bought something there.”

Marina held her hand to her forehead. “But I would have just bought another dress.”

“Then you don’t have any right to complain, do you?”

Marina didn’t answer him and carefully skipped over to a rock where she remained until she could locate the driest spot to hop over to next. Friedrich meanwhile debated whether or not he should use the fox mask. If he was lighter on his feet, he wouldn’t find his feet getting stuck in the mud so often. He refrained, knowing that he needed it to enact his plan to kill Chief Groksh very soon. They must be close to the goblin camp by now.

“Can’t you use the mask to see how close we are?” asked Marina. “You can see further as a fox, can’t you?”

“Yes, but then I need to wait for it to recharge,” replied Friedrich.

“So?”

“What if I need it in an emergency?”

“Like what?”

“Just because I don’t know what the emergency is doesn’t mean there won’t be one. It’s fine when we’re wandering the roads or through a forest, but when we’re in enemy territory, it’s safer to use it sparingly to conserve its usefulness.”

“Don’t become too dependent on it.”

“In what way?”

“You got by just fine without it before, didn’t you?”

“I still don’t need it, but it’s nice to have.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.”

The two continued onwards, trying to remain reasonably dry—a difficult task when surrounded by water at any given moment. It wasn’t long before a pillar of smoke emerged through the trees, which Friedrich drew Marina’s attention to.

“It’s always smoke, isn’t it?” she laughed.

“There must be something about having green skin and giving away your position with a raging fire.”

“It’s a little unfair to compare orcs to goblins, isn’t it? Orcs won’t eat you alive.”

“I think it’s an apt comparison. Orcs will cook you before eating you, but you’ll still be sitting in their stomach.”

Sticking to the trees and creeping more quietly and cautiously through the fen than ever, Friedrich and Marina kept moving until they reached the clearing where the goblin camp lay. It was filled with tents, haphazardly crafted from sticks and animal pelts, many of which were still bloodstained. There was a large fire in the centre of the camp on one of the few truly dry patches of land in the area, where dozens of sallow-skinned goblins were dancing before the carcasses of the badgers, rabbits and foxes they had recently devoured.

Friedrich looked at the dead foxes, feeling uneasy. Since acquiring the mask, he had developed a strange affinity for them. He knew that he was not truly a fox, but it was as though the soul within the mask had permeated him and bonded him to the species in a way that he could not explain. He felt sick seeing them dead, having been feasted on by such foul little vermin.

“That must be the chief’s tent,” said Marina, pointing the top of her staff at the largest tent of all where human skulls rested atop spikes outside of it.

“Let’s not waste any time,” said Friedrich, taking the fox mask out from under his tunic and placing it close to his face. “You remember what to do, don’t you?”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Of course,” said Marina, clutching her staff tightly. “You decided I would be bait while you get the fun job.”

“Do you want to carry his head out of here?”

“No,” she admitted.

“With any luck you won’t see any goblins.”

“Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” said Friedrich, putting the wooden mask upon his face and transforming into the golden fox.

Marina breathed deeply and retreated from the edge of the clearing as Friedrich skirted around it. He was right, he did not find his feet sticking in the mud as much in this form. He bounded across, keeping out of view from the dancing goblins; they were too distracted to notice him anyway. Once he was out of the way, he breathed deep and ran into the camp and buried himself in the reeds by the back of Chief Groksh’s tent.

Friedrich watched the trees, waiting for Marina’s signal. Suddenly, a lightning bolt burst through the camp and struck the fire, sending a mass of fiery sticks into the sky where they then rained upon the panicked goblins. They covered their heads and screeched, not knowing what had attacked them.

Seconds later, another lightning bolt soared into the sky from the trees, capturing their attention. There was a squelching stomp coming from inside the chief’s tent and Groksh emerged furiously. He was tall for a goblin, standing only a few inches shorter than Friedrich at around five feet high. He had a necklace of bones and wore the skull of a ram like a crown. Clutched in his hand was a makeshift axe, that looked like it had been sharpened very recently.

“Grugath!” shouted Chief Groksh. “Kalgu ug bitsma kal!”

Friedrich took this gibberish to mean that the goblins should go investigate. The chief stomped back inside as half of the camp ran off to see what had attacked them. The distraction had worked and there were fewer of these wicked little minions in his way when it came time to escape.

He put his nose underneath the pelts and forced his face through until he could see inside the tent. The goblin chief was sitting atop a wooden chair, twirling his axe in one hand while his head rested in his other. Unable to resist, Friedrich looked around to see if there was anything valuable to take with him, but what held value to a goblin did not hold much value to a human.

Assured that he would not be seen by the witless chief, he crawled into the tent and hid behind a badly crafted clay pot—no doubt the work of the master craftsman of this pathetic tribe. Friedrich had tried to keep count in his head of how long he had been in his fox form, but he knew his count was inaccurate. He would simply have to wait and see, then strike at the right moment.

Upon hearing a screech outside, the chief climbed to his feet and marched into the camp. This wasn’t good, Friedrich had hoped to catch him unawares and slip out of camp as quietly as he could. Had they found Marina?

He felt a jolt of pain as his transformation wore off and he stood behind the pot, human once again. If there was any chance that Marina had been captured, he had to take action. Drawing his sword, Friedrich stormed from the tent and out into the camp where the chief was clobbering one of his useless minions across the head with a mighty fist; Marina being nowhere in sight.

Feeling foolish for being impatient, Friedrich knew there was nothing else for it. He leapt at the chief and beheaded him with a single sweep of the sword. Chief Gorksh’s head hit the ground with a dull thud and the remaining goblins screeched with indignant fury.

As the goblins made for him, Friedrich grabbed the chief’s ear and threw his head up, catching it under his arm. He sprinted from the camp with his sword still in his other hand as almost twenty goblins chased him. He ran straight into the trees and jumped across pool after pool as the deft goblins leapt after him, finding little difficulty with the terrain. They were in their element, and they were seeking vengeance for their brutal leader.

Friedrich did not dare look back, for a single misstep would leave him wedged in the mud and at the mercy of the vicious goblins. If he could keep up this pace, he may just be able to escape. Failing that, he would fight to the death.

His heart sank as he came across a rushing river before him. Would the goblins be able to swim? No time to think that through. He dove into the river, holding his sword and the chief’s head tightly, praying that the goblin wouldn’t follow him. He kept underwater as the goblins drew their spindly bows and shot arrows after him, but the water killed their momentum and Friedrich was carried away while kicking to propel himself even faster.

When he could hold his breath no longer, he surfaced. He swam to the bank and shook himself dry, muttering foul words underneath his breath as he did so.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered as he walked further downstream to keep putting more distance between him and the goblins.

Once he was confident that he was not being followed, he found a safe place to stash Chief Groksh’s head and put the golden wood back upon his face. As the fox, he ran through Grey Fen, hoping that Marina was somewhere safe. After nearly an hour of searching, many transformations in and out of his fox form, and almost giving up hope, he found her hiding inside a hollow tree.

“There you are,” she sighed in relief. “I thought you had been eaten!”

Friedrich walked up to her and placed a paw upon her knee to reassure her he was fine.

“Did you get the chief’s head?”

Friedrich nodded.

“That’s good,” said Marina, smiling.

Friedrich led her through the fen and to where he had hidden the goblin head—making a few wrong turns along the way. They both stood before it as humans, looking at the witless face of the dead chief.

“He’s an ugly fellow, isn’t he?” asked Marina.

“Hideous,” said Friedrich.

“Where are we now? We must be close to Branric the Isolated’s house.”

Friedrich pulled out his waterlogged map and unfolded it, hoping everything important was still discernible; to his relief, it was. He located the river next to them on the map and tried to pinpoint roughly where they were standing.

“I think…if we cross the river, we’ll be heading north.”

“You think?”

“I’m confident.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he insisted, but understood why she doubted his map reading abilities after the time they got lost in the mountain.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good,” said Friedrich, picking up the chief’s head and throwing it to her like a ball.

“Eee!” screeched Marina, as she moved aside and the head hit the ground, rolling down the hill.

Friedrich chased after it in a panic, not wanting to lose the hard-earned spoils of this excursion. Those three hundred and fifty kupons would be theirs and a runaway head was not going to cost him.