William went utterly still, every nerve alight. Input anomaly detected! Auditory signal, low amplitude, inconsistent with baseline. He didn’t move, didn’t reach for his sword. He focused inward, feeding a trickle of mana to EMMA. Analyze auditory input. Source triangulation, pattern matching, threat assessment.

  The internal display shimmered. Analyzing... Signal consistent with ground-level disturbance, light contact, dry vegetation. Probability of wind origin < 5%.

  Snap-crunch.

  Louder. Closer. Definitely footsteps. Small, attempting stealth but failing on the forest floor's debris.

  Auditory confirmation: Bipedal locomotion detected, EMMA updated instantly. Gait analysis: Irregular shuffle. Estimated mass: Low (~30kg). Trajectory: Vector indicates movement towards riverbank, approx. 50 meters downstream, tangential to camp perimeter. Probability of direct camp detection: Low (<10%), decreasing if trajectory holds.

  Okay. Not a patrol bearing down on them. Cross-referencing signature... High correlation (92% confidence) with Goblin. Single entity. One goblin, likely unaware, heading for water. Relief washed through William, cool and immediate. He could handle one goblin, especially an unsuspecting one. His earlier kill, though messy and unpleasant, had proven that. His hand relaxed slightly on his sword hilt. Threat level downgraded: Potential Annoyance. His first instinct, a quick Force Dart, warred with Roland’s strict orders. No alarms. Taking it out carried risk. What if it wasn't truly alone? What if the sound of a body falling carried further than expected?

  Decision: Maintain passive observation. Engage only if threat vector changes or detection becomes imminent. He remained frozen, tracking the rustling progress towards the river.

  A minute later, a scrawny, wretched-looking goblin emerged into the faint pre-dawn light near the water's edge, exactly where EMMA predicted. Clad in greasy furs, it carried a large, dented metal bucket. It shuffled to the riverbank with an air of profound misery, muttering guttural curses. Designation: Goblin_Water_Carrier_01. Status: Grunt. Threat: Minimal (Direct).

  The goblin filled its bucket halfway, then straightened, stretching its back with a groan. Its gaze drifted upstream, past the listing jetty... towards the bank where Herbert's boat sat, patched and tar-smeared.

  Its head snapped back. Fixed.

  William’s blood went cold. He saw the precise moment dull comprehension sparked in the creature’s beady eyes. The double-take. The tilted head processing the anomaly. Boat. On bank. Not hidden. Fresh repairs. Human tools nearby.

  Oh, you IDIOT, William! The self-recrimination was a physical blow. Operational Security 101: Conceal your assets! In the relief, the exhaustion, the focus on repairs and magic practice, none of them, he definitely hadn't, considered hiding the damn boat properly! It sat there like a huge, flashing neon sign declaring 'Adventurers messing about here!'

  He watched helplessly as confusion morphed into dawning realization, then raw panic on the goblin’s ugly face. Its eyes widened. It dropped the bucket, CLATTER-splash! The sound echoing horribly, murderously loud in the stillness. It spun and bolted, scrambling back into the trees with desperate speed, heading directly back the way it came. Towards its kin.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  CRITICAL ALERT! STEALTH COMPROMISED! ALARM PROTOCOL INITIATED BY HOSTILE ENTITY! ESCAPE IMMINENT!

  No time for analysis, regret, or panic, though his heart hammered against his ribs trying to initiate all three. Only reaction mattered.

  Scrambling frantically to his feet, ignoring the jolt of pain in his shin, William raced towards the centre of the camp. “ROLAND! JULIA! EVERYONE WAKE UP!” he hissed, voice desperate, urgent. He dove towards Roland's bedroll, shaking the knight’s shoulder roughly. “GOBLIN! SAW THE BOAT! IT RAN! ALARM! WE HAVE TO GO! NOW!”

  Roland exploded awake, instantly alert, sword already in hand. “Goblin? Where?”

  Julia sat bolt upright, dagger appearing in her hand as if by magic, eyes wide, searching the gloom. Caspian yelped, fumbling with his amulet. Jett simply was, bow nocked, arrow aimed towards the direction William indicated, having materialized silently from the shadows.

  “Downstream! Saw the boat on the bank, my fault! It bolted back towards the main force!” William gabbled, already grabbing his pack.

  “No time for blame!” Roland snapped, kicking dirt over the non-existent embers. Pure command radiated from him. “Gear! Now! Move to the boat! Jett, cover retreat! Julia, Caspian, defensive spells ready! William, help me with the supplies!”

  The next sixty seconds were pure, adrenaline-fueled chaos. Stuffed bedrolls, shouldered packs, checked weapons. Training took over for the veterans. Sheer panic spurred William and Caspian into clumsy but rapid motion. They crashed through the undergrowth towards the river, stealth abandoned for speed. Efficiency over elegance! Get to the exit!

  They burst onto the muddy bank just as the first sounds reached them, distant, but rapidly swelling, high-pitched, guttural shouts, angry screeches tearing through the pre-dawn quiet. The goblin had found help. Quickly.

  “Get it in the water!” Roland roared, he and William straining together, heaving the heavy, patched boat off the bank. It slid into the river with a jarring splash that sent muddy water flying.

  “IN! EVERYONE IN!”

  They scrambled aboard, the unstable boat rocking violently. Gear was tossed in. Caspian stumbled over the gunwale, hauled in by Julia.

  “Jett! Oars!” Roland bellowed, shoving them forcefully away from the bank as Jett leaped aboard, already reaching for the crude oars.

  Just then, the first goblins burst from the trees onto the bank they’d just vacated. Not one. Not four. Dozens. A mob of snarling green figures waving axes, rusty swords, and sputtering torches that cast a hellish light. Their enraged cries washed over the small boat.

  “They're here!” William yelled redundantly, gripping the sides as the boat pitched.

  The goblins surged to the water's edge. Rocks splashed harmlessly nearby. A few crude spears arced, falling short. Arrows, fired from weak bows, skipped off the water like flat stones.

  “ROW!” Roland bellowed, pouring strength into the oars, Jett matching him stroke for powerful stroke, ignoring the ineffective projectiles.

  The boat, sluggish at first, caught the river’s main current. It began to pick up speed, moving away from the furiously gesturing mob on the bank. Their angry cries faded slowly behind them, swallowed by the growing murmur of the river ahead.

  They had escaped. Barely. By seconds. A critical failure in OpSec nearly resulted in total mission failure.

  But as William looked downstream into the grey, misty dawn, relief curdled again into apprehension. The gentle murmur was becoming a roar. The water, visibly faster now, churned white around half-submerged rocks. The banks narrowed, rising into steep, jagged cliffs cloaked in shadow.

  They’d escaped the goblins only to be swept directly into the churning maw of Hammer Falls. The real test, the one their patched boat and untested magic was truly built for, was beginning. Situation critical, William thought grimly, EMMA automatically beginning to map the treacherous water ahead. Probability of positive outcome: Recalculating... still concerningly low.