I woke up to the sound of humming. Cracking an eye, I could see it was early morning. The sound of birds singing morning songs around me seemed to confirm my assumption. The forest was practically alive with the rustle of leaves and the constant chirps of a dozen birds I didn't know. The air was still cold, but I was comfortably warm. A warm, goblin-shaped lump under my cloak indicated that Vral was still asleep in my lap. Her red hair peeked out from the gap in the fabric, her breathing slow and steady. Tristan, however, was gone.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I looked around for the source of the humming and the missing quarter-elf. I spotted Farvad near the center of the small clearing we’d camped in the night before. The old gnome was hunched over and humming to himself. He was inspecting the brush and pulling what looked like weeds out of the ground. He hummed a tuneless melody as he worked, shoving the plants into his belt pouch with a level of focus that I didn't expect from the old man. For once, he seemed completely with it.

Further away, Tristan stood with her mace in hand, slowly practicing the forms Renard had drilled into our heads over the past year. Her movements were deliberate, her body flowing through each strike and block with a grace that made it hard to look away. She was graceful, strong, and genuinely beautiful. I couldn’t help but shake my head and marvel at how I’d been so oblivious. I really was an idiot, as she liked to say.

I yawned and stretched my legs out a little, causing my cloak to open up a little. Vral grumbled in her sleep, her face scrunching up in annoyance before she slumped further across my lap like a large, green cat. After a moment, her grumbles died down, replaced by peaceful snoring. My feet were half-numb, but she’d done more than any of us the night before, and whatever she'd done had worked considering the lack of death while we slept. I didn’t have the heart to disturb her. Despite the tingling in my toes, I pulled my cloak tightly around her to keep the morning chill at bay.

My focus drifted back to Tristan as she finished a pattern and straightened. She’d rolled her sleeves up at some point, revealing her toned shoulders as she began her next form. Her slender body curved in all the right places, and as she lifted her mace high above her head and brought it down in an overhead strike, I saw her muscles flex beneath her shirt. Her form wasn’t perfect, but she made it look good. When she finished the next form, she paused to wipe away sweat, and as she did, she noticed me watching her. Her sapphire eyes locked onto mine. Instead of looking away like she usually did, she flashed me a small grin and began to work through the next form. A few minutes later, she finished and walked to me.

“Morning,” Tristan called, her voice light and teasing. She walked up, her mace resting on her shoulder, and crouched down beside me. “How’s the living pillow this morning?”

“Comfy,” Vral mumbled, her voice muffled by my cloak.

Tristan laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made my chest tighten. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, Vral.”

Vral grunted in response, burrowing deeper into the fabric and my leg. The pins and needles in my toes worsened.

Tristan shook her head, her grin widening as she turned her attention back to me. "She's not wrong though. Thanks for keeping us warm last night." She ruffled my hair. "You’ve got a real talent for this, you know. If this adventuring thing doesn't work out, you could sell yourself as a body pillow."

“Guess I’m just built different,” I said, my voice dry. “You’ve been up for a while?"

She shrugged, her expression softening. “I slept most of the night, but once the tower's glow started, I couldn’t sleep anymore. Too much on my mind. Figured I’d get some practice in while I had the chance, clear my head a little.”

I nodded, understanding all too well. The events of the previous night were still fresh in my mind, and the thought of what might have happened if Vral hadn’t been there sent a shiver down my spine. “You look good out there,” I said. “You’ve come a long way from the gangly boy who didn't want to learn his forms," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "Well, at least I'm not the idiot who mistook his best and only friend for a boy for an entire year." She stuck her tongue out. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her mace. “But thanks. I’m trying. Still not as good as you, but I'm getting somewhere.”

“You’re better than you think,” I said, my voice firm. “And you’re only going to get better.”

She glanced at me, her eyes searching mine for a moment before she smiled. “We both will."

"Wait, that's why you two aren't an item?" Vral's head poked out from my cloak. "She's hot. What's wrong with you?" Her red eyes glared up at me.

"A language barrier and thick robes," I said.

"He's an idiot," Tristan replied.

"Mostly that," I added.

"Obviously," Vral said as she stretched in my lap, her arms emerging from my cloak like muscular snakes. I hadn't noticed before, but her skin was littered with scars. Some were faint, but many seemed fresh.

Before I could ask about them, Farvad’s voice cut through the quiet morning air. “Breakfast is ready!” he called, holding up a handful of roots and leaves. “Come and get it before it’s gone!”

Tristan stood, brushing off her pants before offering me a hand. “Come on. Let’s see what the old man’s cooked up this time.”

I hesitated, glancing down at Vral. The goblin had pulled her arms back under the cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself.

When Tristan's hand got close, she hissed. Tristan booped her head, and Vral swatted at her. "Do we have to?" she asked, her face more worried than I'd ever seen it. "I hate the cold."

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“You’ll be fine,” Tristan said, her tone stern.

Vral groaned and unwrapped herself. Her skin instantly was covered in goosebumps. She tried to shoot back under my cloak, but Tristan helped me stand up before she had the chance. That's when I realized my feet were far more numb than I'd realized. I nearly toppled over.

My feet felt like duck feet as I waddled over to Tristan, who'd positioned herself halfway between us and Farvad. I heard Vral muttering as she stomped behind me. As I walked, I stretched, and every single muscle in my body protested after a night spent sitting on the hard ground. I was looking forward to making it back to the temple. I should only take a week, even if we had to stick to the forests.

Tristan waited for me to waddle up, her mace resting on her shoulder, and together we walked over to where Farvad was busy arranging his findings on a flat rock.

“What’s on the menu?” I asked, crouching down beside him.

“A feast fit for kings!” Farvad declared, holding up a root with a flourish. It had variegated leaves that were covered in some sort of leaf fur. “This here is valleaf. Good for digestion, and is a crucial component in a variety of potions. Doesn't do much on its own, but when paired with other plants, it enhances their effect. And these,” he said, pointing to a cluster of small, silverish berries, “are moonfire berries. Full of vitamins. Also has a variety of other effects that aren't important right now. And this,” he added, holding up a leafy green plant, “is dragonroot. It’ll give you energy, and a lot of it.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Dragonroot? Isn’t that poisonous?"

“Only if you eat too much,” Farvad said, his tone dismissive. “About a thumb's worth, it’s perfectly safe. Any more, you'll be sick." When Tristan didn't seem convinced, he added, "Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years.”

I exchanged a glance with Tristan, who shrugged. “Well, it’s better than nothing,” she said, picking up a handful of berries and popping them into her mouth. Her face scrunched up as she chewed. “Bitter,” she muttered, but she kept eating.

I followed her lead, trying a bit of everything. The valleaf was kind of spicy, the berries were exceptionally bitter, and the dragonroot tasted like a cross between dirt and smoke, which wasn't terrible. Farvad watched us with a satisfied smile, his hands clasped in front of him.

“See? Told you it was good,” he said, his chest puffing out with pride.

“It’s… something,” Tristan said, her tone diplomatic. “Thanks, Farvad.”

The old man beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "I'm glad I hired you lot to take me herb picking. I tried hiring this boy last week. Kind of wimpy looking. I gave him a chance, but he didn't know what he was doing, and we got lost."

Tristan's brows knitted, and she glared at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"How much am I paying you again?"

Tristan and I exchanged glances. A soft shake of her head told me to leave it be.

"Not much. You actually asked us to take you to the temple. You said there were some great herbs in that area. Don't you remember?"

The gnome scratched his head and thought. "I think so..." He harumphed. "I don't remember things so good anymore. Been making these potions for a customer for about a year. I think they've eaten holes in my brain. Not sure what anyone would need a tincture of gloomshade and shadowspire root for, but that's what they wanted. I'd have dropped the job months ago had Grenden not done right by me in the past." The gnome wrung his hands. "Damn fool, working with those cultists. Told him he was nuts, but here we are."

I looked down at Vral, who was absently munching on the herbs. She had a faraway look in her eyes. "Vral, know anything about that?" I asked.

She seemed to not hear me. Tristan elbowed her in the side. She yelped, and her head jerked toward us. "Huh?"

"The potions Farvad is making. Cultists. Sound familiar to you?"

"Potions?" She asked to the air. She shrugged. "I don't know much about any of that, but those cultists are the ones I was meeting with down in the mines when you caught me. Didn't have time to even get new orders before you showed up. The boss told me to take anyone out who saw me, and you two were the lucky ones who did."

"Why?" Tristan asked.

"They don't want word of their dealings getting around." She went back to eating.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"If you were a scary death cult who served a dead being called the Dark One, you wouldn't exactly want everyone to know either. Would you?"

The logic was hard to refute. "Why'd you work with them?"

She stopped chewing and glared up at me. "You think goblins get anything but the shittiest jobs? I gotta eat, and I'm good at killing things and keeping my head down. I worked for whoever would hire me." She went back to munching.

I realized that I didn't know much about her, but I was confident that her life had been hard—very hard. I had my bumps and scrapes, but I had a feeling her life had been a gauntlet.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Tristan asked.

"Because their eyes and ears are all over Galden, and I didn't wanna get cursed or some shit. I've seen what they do to people who talk. It's not pretty." She shivered. "But out here, I don't feel so nervous, and the old man already spilled the worms, so screw it." She popped the last of the dragonroot into her mouth. "Plus, I gotta tell my new crew how much shit they're in. Least I can do before we all get tied to an altar and cut open. Maybe they'll send us to the pits to breed them new footsoldiers." When we all stared at her, she looked up at us. "What?"

It was Tristan's turn to shiver.

I wasn’t so sure what lay ahead, but I didn’t argue either. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. I focused on finishing my meal, my thoughts drifting to the day ahead. We still had a long way to go before we reached the temple, and the forest was far from safe. Luckily, Farvad's roots brought some life back to my body. In fact, by the time I finished the meal, I felt great, and only a little soreness remained. "Thanks, Farvad. That really was a good breakfast."

"Just imagine if I'd been able to return to the shop. I'd have made potions that would have dazzled your little minds. Maybe, when we get to the Temple, they'll let me set up a lab."

Tristan looked interested. "You know, they just might. Priestly magic can do wonders, but it's much more potent when paired with conventional methods. I'll put a word in for you."

"Excellent!" A broad smile spread across his face before he began putting the leftovers into his packs.

The rest of us did the same, and within a few minutes, our packs were back on, and we were ready to hit the trail.

"Vral, should we look out for anything today?" Tristan asked.

A crooked smile spread across her face. "Just the bodies."

"Bodies?"

"You'll see." Her smile spread, and a gleam filled her eyes.

I realized at that moment that Vral was terrifying. "What's the plan?"

"Let's go straight south for a day, maybe two, then we'll hook back over to the road. Once the survivors find the bodies, they'll think twice about following us. They know I'll find them."

"There was a monster of some kind that we ran into when we first came to Galden. A day or two, and we'll be in its area."

Vral thumbed her chin. "Probably better that way. If the idiots do decide to follow, we might get an assist."

Farvad clapped his hands. "Nargles! See, I told you when we met, and you didn't believe me."

I stared at the gnome. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do!" The gnome huffed. "And don't forget our contract. You need to recover my belongings."

Tristan shook her head. "Your things are at the temple. Don't worry." A soft, sad smile spread across her face, and she patted his shoulder.

"Nargles?" Vral asked.

"Vicious beasties. Steal your things."

She looked up at me, but all I could offer was a shrug.

Shaking her head, she began marching to what I could only assume was the South. I waited for the others to move, then followed the little goblin toward what I desperately hoped wasn't Fluffy's mom.