“Hero, whe do you fay?” Nilbog asked, gently touching the kneecap of the Hero.

The Hero, upon being touched by Nilbog, jumped up a few feet in the air with a noticeably high yelp, revealing a person of which he had been standing very close to. Against the tree was the Shaman, two of her fingers pressed tightly against her lips. She glared at the Hero, looking ill-tempered, which did not make sense to Nilbog as the spirits upon her shoulders and on her little toes danced and sung.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” The Hero said, laughing awkwardly as Nilbog tilted his head curiously at him.

The Hero is so odd.

“He’s a freak, isn’t he?” The Shaman said, bending down towards Nilbog.

Nilbog nearly jumped up. The tales were true--Shamans could read minds!

“Wha he do?” Nilbog whimpered as the Shaman’s hands ruffled his hair.

“Oh,” the Shaman said, smiling briefly. She glanced at the Hero. “What were you doing, Hero?” she asked, the tiny grin on her lips nearly unnoticeable.

“I was, uhh, making sure you had no internal injuries!”

“Are you woun?” Nilbog asked, tugging her at her shirt. It was made of tightly woven grass material, just as her shirt was. “Wan me cheh inhernal inhuries for you?”

After a slight pause, the Hero broke into a flustered rant of the many reasons of why Nilbog should not check the Shaman for any internal injuries. The Shaman, giggling to herself, bent down and patted Nilbog’s hair once again.

“Maybe when you become a handsome lad, I will,” she said, and then pulled on Nilbog’s cheeks.

“Hey, watch what you say to the kid!” the Hero said, looking at Nilbog with intensity. “I don’t want a rival!”

“Relax, fool. Not everyone is knowledgeable in that expertise by the age of five.” The Shaman said, standing up. She glared at the Hero, sending ruthless accusations across. The more the Hero stuttered and twisted his body awkwardly the more the spirits around the Shaman laughed with glee.

Nilbog blushed. He was a child, but he was not an idiot. He knew what they were doing was called kissing.

It was how babies are made, and if the great Shaman asked him to--

“Now, what can we help you with, little one?” she said, raising one thin eyebrow up.

“I have a huson.”

“A what?”

“A question,” the Shaman clarified. “Bogling’s tongue can’t pronounce the k sound, t, or the tion sometimes. What is your question?"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Wee fay?” Nilbog asked, with difficulty. His tongue sat awkwardly within his mouth, his teeth constantly getting in the way.

“Goodness, he’s getting worse with the more words he speaks!” the Hero said, shaking his head.

“Shut it, you. I explicitly remember you giving up on learning the Vandrain tongue two days in. You have no right to criticize him.”

“I was learning with depth, quite recently, until he interrupted me,” the Hero said, pointing at the two feet tall Nilbog.

“Bastard, let me-”

“I inhurrep?” Nilbog said, scratching at his skin.”

“You interrupted nothing of importance, little one. Did you need something?”

“A hueseeon.”

“Sounds delicious!” the Hero said, sitting next to Nilbog. “I just had the best meal though,” the Hero said, nudging his cheeks against Nilbog’s with a less than decent look.

“Do you not like your tongue, Hero?” the Shaman said, folding her arms and looking conceivably curious. “Is that why you insert it in places where you might now get it back?”

“You can gladly have-”

“I ha a husion!” Nilbog yelled, stomping his feet against the warm ground. Why did he constantly have to repeat himself? It was as if they were not listening to him.

“Wee do you faigh...faigh...faigh-”

“Fight? Oh you silly kid, we weren’t…” the Hero began confidently, but upon glancing at theShaman his, his statement turned into a question. “..fighting. Right, Nelly?”

“Right,” she said, after a pause. “No fighting here.”

“No, no!” Nilbog said. He stuttered a few more words but giving up on speaking. He walked over to the Hero, dragged the short blade from his wrists hips out of its scabbard, and raised it up high. “Faigh!” he yelled, releasing a battle cry before falling forward and nearly cutting himself on the blade.

The Hero watched curiously, scratching his head as Nilbog picked himself up. “Since when were five-year-old goblins such Philpihosors?”

“First, he’s not a goblin. Secondly: He does take after you. Especially in the looks, personality, and intelligence department,” the Shaman said, shrugging. He sat to the ground, stretching her arms behind her. The one decent thing about this bog was its warm weather.

“Hey!”

Well, that was insulting, Nilbog thought. He couldn’t possibly look anything like the Hero; the man had straight teeth for spirits’ sakes! He was an okay looking human, but nothing more than that.

“Boglings also grow to their full intelligence by the age of four. In addition, this one is a variant. He has excellent mental stats, for a Bogling. As long as he is not too unlucky, he’ll become the leader of this tribe.”

“Let’s come back here one day so we can say ‘Oh, they grow so fast!’”

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve always wanted kids, you know,” the Hero said, smiling wide. Too wide.

Before the Shaman could respond, Nilbog stomped his feet against the dirt with greater strength. “Hell me!’ he yelled, puffing his cheeks. They expanded larger than any human can, much like a frog.

“Teasing the kid is just too easy, you know?”

“Then don’t, Rogue. You’re not helping him or us.”

“Alright, I’ll give the kid a break. Here is the deal, brat. Monsters are bad. Heroes are good. Good heroes kill bad monsters. People who would have been eaten by bad monsters happy. Follow?”

Nilbog looked at the Hero strangely. Why did they not answer the question? Were they that stupid?”

“No, no!” Nilbog said, his patience running thin with the humans. “Wee you faigh?” he began again, speaking each syllable slower. “Wee no ea an’ slee, slee, slee-”

“Trust me, little one,” the Shaman said, glancing in the other direction, “He already sleeps and eats all day.”

The Hero laughed. “If that was the case, then my level wouldn’t be higher than yours, so fuck off, prick.”

“You’re avoiding the subject, coward. We’re not asking you to murder, we’re asking you to defend yourself.”

“You’re hunting other people for your own greed, Rogue. No shit they’re going to defend themselves if we attack them! It’s straight murder, and I am not going to become lik-”

“Will you two ever stop butting heads? Lia said. “You’re waking up the kid with your crying.”

“Funny,” the Rogue said with a mocking chuckle. “It’s cus’ it’s supposed to be the other way around, huh? You think you’re so clever, like how you wasted your skills to be flash-”

“Rogue!” Caldain barked. “Stop projecting your insecurities on others. Lia is right, you chastise Yan for not being useful, while you, yourself, is no better off."

Everyone stopped in their feet, staring at the Rogue. He too stood still, his eyes wide and his teeth bared as he panted.

After a short pause, the Rogue flinched. “I’ll scout ahead,” he said quietly, lowering his eyes to the ground as he quickly walked ahead.

 “Enough distractions. Let’s move on,” Caldain said, his voice flat. Suddenly, he realized just how tired he was.