After Alia finished speaking with the wolves, Gauss finally asked, "Well? Does it tie to our target?"
He'd noticed her expression; she must have squeezed out something useful.
"Possibly," Alia said after a pause, then relayed what she'd gathered from the pack. As she spoke, she rubbed her temples. The wolves had treated her like a long-lost outlet, pouring out anxiety and fear; it took real effort to sift anything actionable from the noise.
"…"
"That's the gist."
Wolves are high-intelligence animals. The chatter had a lot of chaff, but using Speak with Animals plus her own inferences, Alia pieced together a fairly detailed picture:
These five wild wolves had lived with their pack in the forest—hunt, rest, quiet but full days. One morning, goblins on mounted beasts shattered that peace, surrounding and attacking the pack. Even their strongest leader didn't last long under the big green one's fists—down in a few blows. The rest were captured one by one.
The goblins didn't kill them. They smeared a pungent black salve on their noses and pelts; after the wolves dropped unconscious, they were hauled off to some holding place. There were many other wild animals penned there—wolves, yes, but also lynx, bears. Males were being broken as mounts; females were reduced to breeding machines for the goblins.
These five males escaped only because a cage door failed. Running on raw instinct, they sprinted until they reached human farmland. They survived by raiding livestock—but they were in bad shape; the black salve's effects lingered, blunting their sense of smell and making them abnormally irritable.
Looking at the gaunt wolves pinned to the ground, Gauss couldn't help a twinge of sympathy. From a wolf's view, it was brutal: pack scattered, kin enslaved, she-wolves turned into broodstock. Without that lucky break, they'd already be brainwashed mounts in a goblin cavalry.
"Sounds like Blackfang methods," Gauss murmured.
From a wolf's perspective there was no way to identify whether those goblins were their target, but there aren't many local goblin groups capable of mass-capturing and training wild beasts like that.
"Do they know where the training pens are?"
"Probably not," Alia said, stroking a wolf's head. "They bolted in a panic, and with smell and other senses dulled, their sense of direction is fuzzy."
Her first animal companion by pact, Ulfen, was a wolf; she had a natural soft spot for them. "But we can trace their inbound trail and get a general vector."
"Mm."
Serandur quickly treated the wolves' injuries. After Alia told them to keep clear of the village, they were released.
They still didn't know the precise location of the target, but they had one key fact: goblins were actively trapping local wildlife. With a druid on the team who could communicate with animals, they had a wedge to work with—no more wandering blind.
Back in the village, after telling the headman the wolves had been driven off, they swept the outskirts. Sure enough, they found wolf hairs and claw marks, and used those threads to infer the direction the pack had come from—then set off to track the goblins.
Two days slipped by.
Chrr-chrr— In the forest, insects droned without pause, blending with the hush of wind in leaves. In the rising heat, the white noise made you want to crawl into shade and nap.
"It's getting hotter," Alia said, swiping at sweat that wasn't there. The day wasn't that warm, but the humidity spiked the heat index.
"Let's break," Gauss said, nodding at an ancient tree.
They had a heading, but the search was still tougher than expected. Only when you're out in the wild do you realize how hard it is to find a target. Even with Alia talking to the forest's creatures, intel was thin. Fortunately, all four—Gauss, Alia, Serandur, and Shadow—were ready for a long haul.
They spread a groundsheet. Gauss pulled food and water from his bag of holding and sketched the mental map for the team.
"Here's Lincrown Town. Here's Charlie Village. This is where we found the wolves. We're about here now."
On yellowed parchment, his quick, clean lines took shape. Thanks to the Adventurer's Manual's mapping feature, he was a walking surveyor. In that sense, he was perfect for this kind of job—he held a crystal clear picture of the ground behind them and wouldn't get spun around in the trees.
Alia and Serandur took it in stride. Shadow, however, kept glancing from the map to Gauss.
"How did you do that?"
The hand-drawn details were surprisingly rich—key landmarks, the past two or three days of routes, terrain notes. She'd first thought some bits were doodles, but when she cross-checked with their recent travel, the matches were uncanny.
"Talent… talent, hah," Gauss deflected with a laugh.
"Okay," Shadow said, and let it drop. Just like the others hadn't grilled her about slipping into shadows, she wouldn't pry into what he wasn't ready to share. Not over-probing teammates' privacy was an unspoken pact.
They finished a quick route chat and turned to lunch: white bread from Lincrown's bakery, pepper-cured jerky—not Gauss's old monster stores, just shop-bought meat—plus nuts, oats, honey, and cheese. Alia set out wild fruits and greens she'd foraged. Spread over the cloth, the food looked abundant—and put smiles back on road-weary faces.
Even if you don't cook hot meals on a job, you mind nutrition and balance. Good food lifts morale and restores energy; eat well and you draw the bow, swing the sword, and channel the spell. Logistics moves the needle on success and survival.
Fed and recharged, they moved out. In the afternoon they angled onto a new track. After an hour or so, as they passed through a grove hung with great curtains of vines, the air… wavered.
"Something's off," Gauss warned, signaling a ready stance.
A look around showed they'd wandered into a pocket where the trees were markedly denser.
The canopy blocked the sky; only stray shafts of light slipped through, painting shifting coins on the ground. A strange perfume of mixed blossoms drifted. The trees looked older, greener.
Up among thick boughs, treehouses had been crafted—hollows and vines and polished boards, roofs thatched with leaves or living moss, dotted here and there with glowing mushrooms and nodding wildflowers.
Fine rope bridges and ladders linked them into a tiered aerial village. Below, the turf grew unusually lush and soft—green velvet strewn with faintly glowing flowers and cute wild fungi. Small, finely carved stone and wood totems ringed the clearing.
Only one issue: every bridge and building was tiny for humans like them.
"This is…" Alia breathed, drawn in by the tranquil beauty.
"A sprite village, I think," Serandur murmured.
Almost on his last word, tiny faces popped up—from treehouse windows, behind flowers, among the mushrooms. Palm-sized folk with transparent, bioluminescent insect wings and pointed ears, dressed in petals, leaves, and vinefilaments, wielding thorn- or hard-wood micro-spears and tiny bows.
Hundreds of eyes fixed on the four intruders, equal parts curious and wary.
"Looks like we're surrounded," Alia whispered.
A figure who seemed to be the chieftain fluttered out from the rear—blue blossom for a cap, wings glinting gold-green, a special energy flowing over its body. It spoke in a rapid, musical stream of Common:
"Strange, large folk—leave our home."
As it warned them, the surrounding sprites clenched their weapons, ready to charge at a word—though most trembled, plainly afraid of the four dangerous giants.
"We mean no harm. We're adventurers who stumbled in," Gauss said softly, hands shown open.
It was his first encounter with sprites, but the books he'd read called them a kind people. Compared to pixies, though, they were more martial—unfriendly to trespass and quick to shoo outsiders off. They could also read a heartbeat and judge a being's bent by their own standards. Gauss held no malice toward these "forest wardens."
The chieftain's small face scrunched in brief thought—judging truth from his words. After a moment it lowered its weapon.
"Big one, you do not lie. But…" It hovered on buzzing wings, fishing for Common words. "The forest is uneasy lately. Please leave our village quickly."
"We're here to track and destroy the goblins who are polluting the forest and enslaving beasts—to end that unease," Gauss said gently, stepping forward.
At the word goblins, the sprites behind the chief stirred, faces twisting with disgust. Even a hidden folk like sprites couldn't avoid frequent clashes with goblins, one of the forest's most common monsters. Centuries of small wars left them with no love for green-skins.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Their wariness melted at once into goodwill.
"He's so big!"
"He's handsome!"
"They're kind giants who slay green-skin scum!"
"I want to stab green-skin scum too!"
The chief quelled the chatter. "You truly came for the green-skins?"
"As true as steel," Gauss said.
The chief listened to his heart and nodded, pleased. "Please let our warriors help."
Gauss arched a brow. He'd only meant to ask for local intel—he hadn't expected the sprites to pivot so hard from wary to eager allies. Hit goblins, gain sprite goodwill? It felt like the forest itself wanted a coalition against green-skins.
Still… he eyed their palm-sized bodies and toothpick-sized weapons. Could they really help?
His silence made the chief bristle. "Do not judge us by our size." It snapped its needle-fine spear; the air sang. "We have many elite warriors like me."
When it got serious, Gauss felt the natural energy around it deepen. A people this small surviving and thriving implied hidden edges. These elites clearly hit above their look.
"And if you want goblin intel—we've found things lately," the chief added. "Let several of my warriors join you. They'll guide you to the green-skins."
Four sprites, each armed with tiny but tough weapons, drifted forward. Unlike the frailer folk around them, these four had sharp eyes, crisp flight, and tight fighting posture.
"Well then…"
"Please, mighty adventurers!" they chirped. "Let us go kill green-skins together!"
"All right," Gauss said, nodding at the clear eyes and pure natural aura of the little fighters. "We'd be grateful. How should we address you—and these brave warriors?"
"I am Bluebell, guardian of this village," the chief said, wings beating faster with delight. She pointed to the four: "This is Thistle, Dandelion, Glowdew, and Moss—our finest trackers and fighters."
Thistle, with a mini thorn-lance, darted forward a span. In a clear, piping voice: "We do know a fair bit of green-skin movement. We can't say if it's your exact target, but rest assured—we'll stay with you until the goal is done."
Introductions complete, the four sprite warriors joined Gauss's team on the spot. As thanks, Alia offered Bluebell a small packet of special moon-dried flower seeds from her pack. The sprites crowded in, peeped, and broke into tiny cheers—clearly pleased with a gift steeped in natural energy.
"May the forest winds bless your road," Bluebell said, warmth in her tone as she accepted the gift. "Great adventurers, be careful hunting green-skins. Allow me, for our village, the forest, and its beasts, to thank you for your just cause."
With key intel and a blessing, the team backed carefully out through the vine curtain. The dreamlike grove fell away to ordinary forest.
They'd left with more "heads" than they'd come with: Gauss's four, Ulfen the grey wolf, Echo the raven, the powderwing butterfly, and four sprites.
A mixed bag anti-goblin squad set out again. Gauss's group walked; the sprites ranged ahead and around, bodies and hues blending into the green—perching behind leaves, streaking through branches, pointing the way.
The one called Glowdew shared a tidbit with Gauss: "The green-skins… they seem to be digging something. Lately we've often seen them carrying ore-like stuff deeper into the valley."
~~~
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