The piercing squeal of a pipe sounded just beyond the tree line. The snow-covered ground trembled beneath Rasp’s feet. Hoofbeats. From more than one horse as well, given the way the frozen earth thrummed against the worn soles of his shoes. Thanks to the obnoxious pipe playing, there wasn’t any need for Rasp to put his ear to the ground and double-check whether the riders were coming or going. It was obvious that the riders were galloping in their direction at full speed.

  The real question was, why?

  Unfortunately, Fangle was keeping his cards close. The lead goblin pretended not to notice the approaching riders. He casually conversed with Hop, as if he were a friend and not the person currently holding them hostage on the outskirts of a ransacked village. “I like you, goat-man. You know just all the right words to make a leader feel heard. You wouldn't happen to be in the market for a job as the right-hand, would you? My last hand has proved rather disappointing.”

  “Oh. I, uh…” Hop fumbled his way through an awkward rejection. “I’m afraid I’m already in an unpaid position.”

  “He’s spoken for,” Rasp butted in helpfully.

  Hop squeezed the life out of Rasp’s upper arm in an overenthusiastic show of gratitude. “I am spoken for employment-wise, he means.”

  “He says, holding my hand.”

  “I’m holding your arm,” Hop corrected. “It’s different.”

  “Just stab me in the heart in front of company, why don’t you?” The frozen dirt thrummed harder beneath Rasp’s feet. The riders were almost to the tree line. “Speaking of company, are you expecting someone, Fangle? Not to be rude here, but whoever’s blasting that damn pipe really ought to take some lessons.”

  “I don’t hear nothin’,” Fangle lied. The goblin flicked his ears, inadvertently adding the soft jingle of metal bangles to the mix, before steering the conversation back in the direction he wanted it to go, which, uncoincidentally, appeared to be any other topic but the existence of the approaching riders. “So, goat-man—”

  “You can call me Hop.”

  “—you work for the baby-man witch then, eh?”

  Fangle was clearly stalling. They wouldn’t get even a morsel of information out of him until the riders arrived. Considering that was still a few minutes off, Rasp supposed the only thing left to do was keep the crotchety goblin entertained until then. “Work? Gods no, that would imply I pay him. Hoppy does everything for me out of loyalty.”

  Hop had the sense to play along. “Is it loyalty? Or lack of better options?”

  “He cooks, cleans, puts my teeth back in for me.” Rasp started to list off as many terrible things on his fingers as possible.

  The goblin, still resting in his saddle, sounded downright confuddled. “Why does he not rebel?”

  “Excellent question,” Hop sighed.

  “Because, like you, I’m the indisputable leader. What I say goes.”

  “Huh.” Fangle’s tone was a complicated mix of disbelief and admiration. “You surprise me, baby-man witch. Perhaps there is more to you than Snag led me to believe.”

  Rasp was already nodding along before catching the backhanded insult. “Wait, what?”

  Fangle’s pleased cackle was drowned out by the loud croak of a raven. Father, announcing his return for all to hear, shot out from between the trees—a tiny dark blot against the undulating sea of white. Four larger, earth-bound shapes broke from the shaggy trees behind him. The riders urged their shaggy steeds onward, galloping them through the powdery snow and to the hill where their leader waited.

  Faris broke his mournful silence. He edged a tentative step forward, studying the four approaching riders. “I don’t believe it.”

  Rasp waited, impatiently, for one of the others to kindly fill him in. Alas, his team was too swept up in the moment to consider his needs. “Someone want to help the blind guy out? What are we looking at, Faris? All I see are fuzzy blobs.”

  “It’s Snag,” the faun replied.

  “And Whisper,” Hop pointed out. “There, see? The white weasel curled around the front goblin’s neck?”

  Ah, so that’s where his mentor had gone. Rasp felt slightly better knowing that Whisper had left to find help as opposed to abandoning their party for dead.

  “Oi!” Fangle snapped at them. “Give the pipe a rest, will ya? You’re gonna alert the whole countryside carrying on like that!”

  The front rider pulled ahead of the other three. A familiar horse-shaped mop of mottled brown and black fur reached the top of the slippery hill and promptly skidded to a halt alongside Fangle.

  “Show off,” Fangle muttered.

  Snag dismounted, ignoring his sulking den leader entirely, and slogged through the wet snow in Rasp’s direction. “Good grief.” The goblin’s notoriously scratchy voice was on the verge of choking up. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you two again.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Rasp’s mouth. “Hello, Pet.”

  “Maggot,” Snag returned the heartfelt greeting. “And you, too, Faris. Your, uh, weasel found me and filled me in on your situation.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Said weasel leapt from the goblin’s slender shoulders and disappeared beneath the snow. Rasp grimaced seconds later, when the familiar stab of clawed paws pierced through his trousers and into the skin as Whisper clambered up his leg.

  “Ow.”

  You’re welcome, Whisper’s thoughts intertwined with Rasp’s own.

  Faris wanted answers, not reunions. He rushed forward, voice laden with urgency. “Snag, what in chaos is going on? Where is my—”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Snag held up his hands, shushing him.

  “No! No more playing nice, gods dammit. I want answers. My village is gone and you’re here with an army. Tell me what happened.”

  Snag lowered his voice to a growl. “Be patient.”

  The response startled Faris into a silent stupor.

  Snag spoke again, this time loud enough for his den leader to overhear. “Nah, nah, nah, you’ve got it all wrong, Faris. This isn’t my army, it’s Fangle’s. I’m just the, uh…” Snag swiveled his head to the goblin perched on his horse. “What was the title we settled on again?”

  “The Neck,” Fangle replied, each word as sour as an unripe lemon. “Not useful enough to be the hand, but needed to prop the head up. Which is me, by the way. In case there was any question. I’m the head.”

  “No question here,” Snag assured him.

  “Me.”

  “Yes, sir. Nothing says strong leadership like stating it out loud, over and over again. That’s you. The irrefutable leader of the biggest goblin horde in all of the territories.”

  Fangle said it once more just to be sure. “That’s right. Me. Not you, Snaggy.”

  “Uh-huh.” Snag employed the sort of tone used by weary mothers to encourage their bothersome brood to wreak havoc elsewhere. “Why don’t you let the Neck handle this then, yeah? This is talking. You hate talking. Your leadership is needed along the front, anyway. The scouts may have found something. They need your input.”

  “Sir,” Fangle added.

  “What?”

  “I believe you meant to say, they’ll need your input, sir.”

  “Ah, yeah. My mistake.” Snag quickly added, “Sir.”

  “That’s more like it.” Fangle’s fuzzy, horse-shaped blob turned and slowly plodded back down the hill before slipping back into the dense thicket of trees.

  Faris had the sense to keep his voice low. “Now will you tell us what’s going on?”

  “Fuck me, kid. We only rode in this morning. I’m still figuring everything out myself.” Snag gave them a quick run-through, spoken swiftly and softly beneath his breath. “I was getting resettled in the Flatlands when I received a call-to-arms from Rali. She said your village was in serious trouble and that Oralia needed my help. I left then and there. Except Fangle caught me on my way out, started a spat, and then decided it reflected better on the clan if he tagged along, as opposed to me abandoning them again.”

  “It’s not just your den here, though,” Rasp pointed out. “There are at least three others.”

  “They’re all here, actually. All seven den leaders and their best warriors,” Sang said. “Fangle can’t keep his loud mouth shut for shit. The bugger bragged that we were going off to war and, not to be outdone, all the other leaders joined up, too. Fangle declared himself the head honcho with me as his second. So now I’ve got to play nice if I want to keep his damn army.”

  “What about my village, Snag?” Faris stomped the wet ground with a snort. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s been burnt to the ground!”

  “Don’t you raise your voice at me, boy. I’m not the one who was off having adventures with his stupid best friend, when he should ‘ave been here, protecting his homeland from the likes of Taratheil Cray.”

  No one said it, forcing Rasp to voice the question on everyone’s mind. “Who?”

  “Geralt’s second-in-command. Worst of the worst. Makes the stuff Ellisar gets up to look like child’s play. He moved in while you were away and did what he does best. Oralia was rallying an army to oppose him.” Snag’s voice trailed, losing some of its venomous bite. “From the look of things, I’m not so sure it worked out for her.”

  “That’s it then, isn’t it?” Faris slumped back onto his knees. “We’re too late. Oralia failed, and Cray burnt it all to the ground.”

  “Maybe,” Snag admitted. “Maybe not. We’re still trying to piece the puzzle together. I’m not trying to give you false hope here, but there are still a couple of pieces that don’t fit. Starting with Cray’s forces. If it’s true, and he got what they came for, then he should be marching back towards the capital. But he’s not. He’s got his people tearing the woods apart instead.”

  Faris said nothing, too overwhelmed with grief to fully comprehend what Snag was telling him.

  The goblin continued, “We know a nasty fight took place before someone torched your village. We’ve got bodies everywhere. Except, again, nothing’s adding up. We’ve got a burnt village, lots of bodies, but hardly any of them belong to villagers. And there’s no sign of Oralia, either.”

  For false hope, it certainly did the trick. The suffocating grief swelling within Rasp’s chest eased ever-so-slightly. “You think she got out and took the villagers with her?”

  “That’s the prevailing theory. She couldn’t have gotten far, though. Given the way Cray’s tearing the woods apart, we think she went into hiding nearby.”

  Rasp reached down and tried to lift Faris onto his feet. “Hear that, Dingle?”

  A shrill note cut through the air overhead. It held for several beats before falling silent. Unlike the calls from before, this one felt different. More ominous.

  “You’ve all got some fuck-tastic timing, that’s all I got to say.” Snag whistled for Wormy and was swinging back in the saddle in the blink of an eye. “Hope you’re as fast as you used to be, Faris.”

  “Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Faris demanded.

  “The scouts found Oralia’s hiding place.” Snag’s voice changed directions. “You, big fella. Sling Rasp up here behind me, will ya? The rest of you will have to keep up on foot.”

  Hop obliged, lifting Rasp clear off his feet and onto the back of the horse, grateful, perhaps, to let Rasp be someone else’s problem for a while.

  Snag didn’t wait for his passenger to get adjusted. The goblin spurred Wormy onward with a click of his tongue. “Follow my trail,” he called over his shoulders as the beast took off beneath them. “And keep your wits about you. We’re about to head into the mouth of the beast.”

  “Gods, Snag!” Rasp lurched forward as the little horse doubled its speed. Cinching his arms around Snag, he wrangled his hips into a position that was less likely to fall off. “Look, I’m grateful for the ride, don’t get me wrong. And of course I want to help find Faris’s family.” Rasp winced as his back molars rattled together as he spoke. “But do we have to go this fast? You’re going to get us taken out by a fucking tree before we can even get there.”

  “Sorry, Maggot. Time’s of the essence, and I’ve seen firsthand what you can do. You’re needed at the front.”

  Rasp’s stomach lurched as dark green and black tree forms hurtled past, narrowly missing them. “Front of what?”

  “The fighting.”

  “There’s fighting?”

  “There’s gonna be. Fangle may have found Oralia, but he didn’t find her first. Cray’s already got her surrounded.”