Ren let out another breath, their shoulders dropping anotherfraction – this time from relief rather than hopelessness. “You’re right. My clan’s been saying the same thing for years. Maybe it’s about time I started listening.”
I think we’re past the point of “maybes”, Pansy was about to say, when a heavy stone plunked down into the ground beside her, sending a flurry of damp earth spraying halfway up her skirt. Letting out a yelp, she jumped right into Ren’s waiting arms, their foresight nothing short of blessed. Without them, she would surely have a whole lot more mud on her person.
“Sorry!” called out a voice from somewhere higher up. Turning, Pansy found the largest goblin she’d ever seen peeking over the edge of a nearby slope with an embarrassed grimace twisting across his lips.
A goblin, it turned out, Ren recognized. “Please, no,” they groaned, casting a pleading look up at the ceiling.
Unfortunately for them, their prayer went unanswered. As if summoned, the goblin’s gaze swiveled to focus on Ren instead. “Ren!” bellowed the goblin, his expression parting around such unadulterated glee, Pansy might have found it sweet had he not just single-handedly ruined her skirt. “I’ll be down in a second!”
“We need to run,” Ren whispered in Pansy’s ear, their arms still keeping her upright. “Quickly. Before he catches up.”
“Why? Who is he?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the goblin’s mad dash towards them, punctuated by several shouts of surprise, a half-collapsed tent, and the distinct sound of glassware breaking.
Grim-faced and full of distress, Ren only said, “My cousin, Thorn.”
“The weird one?” Pansy managed to ask before every last mote of air was forced from her lungs, the world devolving intoa strange, indecipherable blur as she found herself swept up alongside Ren into a great, near-bone-crushing hug. Not even the most impassioned of halfling grandmothers could hold a candle to the sheer power of this display.
“We can’t… breathe,” Ren managed to choke out after a handful of seconds without reprieve, prompting their assailant to relax his grip at last.
“Oh, sorry,” said Thorn, setting the two of them back down. “I got a little over-excited there.” Then, turning to Pansy, who was in the process of smoothing out the front of her mud-spattered skirt, now freshly rumpled at that, he added, “I’m Thorn, by the way.”
“Pansy,” she said, flashing him a small, slightly nervous smile as she folded her hands primly across her front. Her skirt, unfortunately, proved a lost cause.
“I know.” Thorn grinned. “Ren’s told me all about you.”
Pansy’s eyes widened. “They have?” she asked, darting a look at Ren, who studiously managed to avoid her gaze.
“Mm-hmm. Sorry about the wayward stone, by the way. I promise I wasn’t aiming for you – or anyone else. I entered tonight’s moss-put competition, and, well, obviously I ended up with a slippery one.” He grinned sheepishly.
Pansy blinked. “Moss… put?”
“It’s a goblin sport,” Ren explained, though not before they shot their cousin one last dirty look. “The goal is to throw a moss-covered rock as far as possible. Sometimes, the moss is sticky; sometimes, it’s slippery; sometimes, it’s dry and springy. Depends on the variety. You never know what you’re going to get until the rock is in your hand.”
Pansy looked at the slope and then back down at the rock, still embedded in the earth. “Is this far?” she asked, gesturingtowards it.
“I believe Thorn was supposed to throw it in theoppositedirection.”
“You caught me there,” he said with a chuckle, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “Hey, uh…” He darted a worried look behind him, where the swell of discontent left in his wake was growing louder by the second. “Why don’t we go up to my stall and talk there? I need to be getting back anyway. Bad for business to be closed for too long.”
“Stall?” Pansy perked up at this new information. “What do you sell?”
Toads. The answer was toads – or, rather, their secretions? Pansy wasn’t entirely sure, only because Thorn kept calling it “Juice”, which was about as illuminating as the moon this deep underground, and every time she opened her mouth to pursue some sort of clarification Ren cut her off with a withering, sidelong look. Whatever Thorn was peddling, they didn’t approve of it in the least.
“Why? Is it dangerous or something?” Pansy asked, ignoring the way Ren’s eyes widened, as if the question, perfectly harmless in all respects, had been formulated as a personal affront.
Thorn laughed. “Dangerous? Maybe if you drink too much. But even then, it’ll just knock you flat on your arse for a few hours while the ceiling spins and swirls. Which, I suppose, could be rather terrifying if you’re a first-timer,” he added after a beat, looking thoughtful.
“Exactly,” Ren said emphatically, eyes flashing. “As such, neither of us will be purchasing anything today.”
“What about a free sample?” Thorn asked with a grin. “You can use it to make more of that plant paste of yours.”
Pansy perked up at that. “Plant paste?”
Ren let out a snort. “You don’t even like gardening,” they pointed out, arms crossing over their chest.
Now it was Pansy’s turn to look affronted. Crossing her arms as well, she canted up her chin for an extra dose of defiance and said, perhaps a touch too whiny to have the impact she’d hoped for, “I told you it was growing on me!”
They rolled their eyes, clearly gearing up for some sort of smarmy retort. However, the deep rumble of Thorn’s laughter swept it from their lips before they could properly loose it.
