Hob knew he and Edric were in trouble the instant they got pulled into the dance. He looked past the white feathers to his right, and spotted Edric bobbing along ahead. Edric looked worried too.

As the music moved faster and faster, Hob could barely keep pace. He began to alternate between running as fast as his big boots would allow, and pulling up his feet so he’d be carried along by the dancers to either side of him.

Then, suddenly, the Spring Chicken’s feathery hand jerked away, and Hob tumbled to the ground. He looked up to see what had happened. It appeared a little boy in front of Edric had tripped and fallen, causing Edric to topple over him, and the Spring Chicken to topple over them both. The rest of the line stumbled to a halt behind Hob.

As Edric stood back up, Hob noticed something was wrong. Edric’s hood had fallen, and his eye patch was askew!

The Spring Chicken noticed as well. “Your Highness!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

The rest of the dancers around them gasped. Everyone recognized Edric at once—no doubt from all the wanted posters.

“I’ve found Prince Edric! The reward is mine!” declared the Spring Chicken. “Sorry, Your Highness.” He dove at Edric, trying to tackle him.

But Edric dodged the tackle, and the flailing chicken man flopped onto the ground. Unfortunately, there were many others waiting to take his place. When Edric turned to run, he found himself trapped.

Shouts of, “The Prince! The Prince! He’s mine! He’s mine!” came from all sides, as the nearby dancers rushed to surround him, and a dozen spectators charged in from the front of the crowd.

“caw!” Spooked by the shouting and the sudden commotion, the crows took flight from the flag lines overhead, and flapped out of the square over the roofs of the buildings.

In the midst of it all, Hob stood, and glanced around, trying to decide what to do. He quickly spotted a pair of golden helmets and crimson-cloaked shoulders pushing forward through the front rows of the crowd.

“Ed! Royal Guards!” he cried.

But Edric was already in the clutches of as many townsfolk as could get their hands on him—including the very persistent Spring Chicken. They were eagerly awaiting the Royal Guards’ arrival, hoping to share in some part of the reward.

Hob panicked. He could think of only one way to save Edric, and it would be risky at best. But what choice did he have?

Hob hopped onto the rim of the fountain pool, and removed his long gloves. Then, making sure to leave the goggles over his eyes untouched, he grabbed his hat, his scarf, and his cloak by its clasp, and tore off his disguise for all to see! “raAahhrrrg!” Doing his best Brute-impression, he scrunched up his face and let out his goblin-iest roar!

The heads of Edric’s captors and the people in the crowd turned to stare at Hob in shocked silence.

“aaaaaaaaaahhhh!”

They all started screaming. Edric’s captors scrambled over each other to flee, allowing him to slip from their grasps. And the crowd around the fountain burst and scattered, buffeting away the Royal Guards.

Hob’s gambit had worked!

Unfortunately, it had also set off an instant riot. Men, women, and children who hadn’t even seen Hob were now shouting, “The goblins are coming! The goblins are coming!” By the time this news spread across the square, it told of a full-blown goblin invasion.

All of the townsfolk, and even some of the city guards, took off running. And the remaining guards were too busy trying to avoid getting trampled by their fellow humans to worry about whether there was really a goblin attack underway.

In less than a minute, the fleeing crowds had managed to overturn so many food carts and flatten so many tents that, if goblins had been attacking, they would’ve found much of their work done for them.

Meanwhile, Edric grabbed Hob’s hand and pulled him down from the fountain. Together, they ran. Hob kicked off the clunky human boots he wore over his own, trying to keep up. But even so, he struggled to match Edric’s speed. Hob’s legs were so much shorter, and he wasn’t used to a sword bouncing awkwardly against his hip.

They didn’t get far before they heard an angry voice call out behind them. “The reward—I mean, the Prince—is getting away!” It was the Spring Chicken. He and his followers had begun to regroup.

Trailing Edric through the chaos, Hob lost all sense of direction. Ahead, two herds of fleeing townsfolk crossed paths, blocking the way forward. Edric and Hob stopped in their tracks.

Hob became frantic. But Edric kept his cool. He drew his sword, cut an opening in the back of a nearby tent, and dragged Hob inside.

The tent’s shelves were lined with wooden toys, and an elderly couple cowered behind the counter.

“Sorry,” Hob said to them, as Edric yanked him through the tent and out the front flap.

They emerged in a deserted walkway between two tightly packed rows of tents and stalls, most of them still unharmed. A butcher’s stand stood directly across from them. It had a wooden roof and counter, and it displayed many strings of smoked sausages and large cuts of salted meat.

“Where to next?” asked Hob.

“Not that way,” said Edric, pointing with his sword.

Twenty feet to their left, the stampeding crowds had knocked the Olive’s Oils tent into the Toasty Goat BBQ Shack. A rising wall of smoke and flame blocked the walkway. No wonder the area was deserted.

Hob felt horribly guilty. He certainly hadn’t meant to cause such destruction; he’d only been trying to save Edric.

“There they are!” yelled the Spring Chicken. “There they are!”

Hob and Edric looked to their right. An angry mob of townsfolk from the fountain and a few city guards stood just ten feet up the walkway in that direction. The townsfolk had managed to arm themselves with torches, pitchforks, and other weapons both proper and improvised. Musicians brandished their instruments like clubs. A blacksmith swung his hammer. And they were all led by the Spring Chicken, who’d gotten his feathery mitts on a sword.

“Great, now they’ve got torches and pitchforks,” Edric groaned. “That’s never a good sign.”

He raised his own sword, assuming a defensive stance. Hob drew his little sword too, although he had no idea how to use it.

“See, I told you!” said the Spring Chicken. “He’s with the goblin!”

“That’s probably why he’s wanted!” said a pitchfork-wielding man. “He’s a goblin-loving traitor!”

“The whole ‘teen rebel’ thing was cute for a while,” said an old woman, smacking a rolling pin into her palm. “But this time he’s gone too far!”

“The royal backstabber!” said one of the musicians, jabbing the air with a large string instrument. “Forget the reward. Let’s make him pay!”

The mob began to advance.

Hob’s scheme had backfired! Now the townsfolk were convinced that Prince Edric was a goblin sympathizer! Even the promise of reward money for his capture might not spare him from their wrath.

“halt!” a voice cried out. “By order of ’ze King’s Royal Guard!”

Suddenly, Captain Fist appeared on the roof of the butcher’s stand, having climbed up from behind. Sword drawn, she leapt down into the walkway, landing between Edric and Hob and their attackers.

“’Ze Prince is under my custody. He will not be harmed!” she continued. “He may be a foolish, foolish child. But he is no traitor!”

Unfortunately, the crowd was too worked up to listen to reason—even coming from the intimidating Captain Fist.

“She’s lying!” spat the Spring Chicken, stopping before her.

“It’s a royal conspiracy!” declared a city guard.

“Why, she’s probably a goblin herself!” added the angry musician.

It seemed to Hob there would be no talking their way out of the situation. Apparently, Captain Fist agreed.

“Run!” she shouted at Edric, without taking her eyes off the mob.

Wasting no time, Edric and Hob clambered right over the butcher’s counter, scattering sausages, and exited through a curtain at the rear of the stand.

Before Hob closed the curtain, he glanced back at Captain Fist. She was quickly being overwhelmed. She seemed reluctant to strike any of the innocent townsfolk with her sword. And though she sent several flying with well-placed kicks and punches, there were always more ready to swarm her. The Spring Chicken rushed in, and caught her in a feathery headlock. She elbowed his beak so hard that his chicken head spun backward, blinding him. Then she rolled free.

Hob had seen enough. He turned and followed Edric out of the square.