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The next morning the elf sat to the left of the female driver as she controlled the oxen. The half-goblin sat on the right. The druid rode the horse, scouting ahead. The big warrior was asleep in the wagon and the gnome watched out the back. The familiar stayed close and was beginning to cause trouble again, forcing Snix to latch onto the bottom of the wagon.
During the night, Snix had snuck into the wagon and removed all of the buttons from the blouse he’d torn up to make bandages for the elf’s bleeding leg.
The road was damp from last evening’s rain, so the ride was slower, but less rough.
The elf asked, “When do you think we’ll reach Shorn Spearhead?”
“Several hours after noon,” the female driver said.
“Sucks. I’ll probably have to hide back in the wagon, so I don’t draw undue attention.”
“We’ll get you another cloak,” the half-goblin said. “Or maybe a straw hat, to at least hide your face.”
“It gets old.”
“And you think being a half-goblin doesn’t?”
“But, you chose...”
“None of us chose to be here, Marigold.”
A few moments of silence passed, except for the wagon creaks and the oxen breathing and plodding. The female driver broke the silence.
“Miss Marigold, you consider your beauty a curse.” There was a pause. Snix suspected the driver stared earnestly up at elf as she said, “Would you rather have a face like this?”
Snix thought of the driver’s round, weather-beaten face framing a crooked nose. She wasn’t a beauty among humans, but would be more acceptable than the half-goblin. Snix didn’t see why humans didn’t care for half-goblins.
“Sometimes,” the elf said.
More silence, until the elf said, “Oh, hey, Lilac.”
“Yes,” the driver said.
“I never thanked you for tying my leg wound off.” To Snix, it sounded like she reached down and patted the spot where the dire boar wounded her. “Gurk said I might’ve continued losing hit po—I mean kept bleeding, and maybe died if you hadn’t.”
“Miss Marigold, I didn’t tie off your wound. I thought it was one of your friends that did it.”
“Really?” the elf said.
“So, you didn’t do it?” the half-goblin asked. “And none of us did it—we didn’t have time with fighting the dire boar.”
The elf asked, “Then who did?”
Snix imagined the driver and half-goblin shrugging their shoulders. He wondered if they’d figure out none of them had bandaged the bleeding elf.
“You didn’t do it, and didn’t see anybody do it?” the half-goblin asked.
The driver said, “I was driving the wagon away.”
“And nobody else did it,” the half-goblin said. “And nobody saw it done.”
“We already know that, Gurk.” The elf sounded frustrated.
“I know, Marigold. I’m just trying to think it through.”
“Brownies are known to do good deeds,” the female driver said. “When nobody is watching.”
“Yeah,” the half-goblin said, “but they live near villages and hamlets, not out in the middle of nowhere.” He snapped his fingers. “What about a fairy?”
“Fairies don’t live near swamps,” the elf said. “Not nasty ones like the Dark Heart Swamp.”
“Okay, dudette, so what’s your explanation?”
“How should I know? You know more about Monsters, Maces and Magic than I do.”
“Then why shoot down my idea? After all that’s happened with you, a fairy makes the most sense.”
“I bet Lysine will know,” the elf said.
An hour later, after the druid and the gnome and big warrior joined in the discussion, they decided upon a fairy using her camouflage ability. Especially after the shadow they saw a couple days back. In case it wasn’t a fairy, Petie and the druid, with his enchanted crystal, would have to pay more attention.