Hours after Pip's departure, the goblin camp hums softly with muffled chatter and crackling firelight. The scent of roast roots and wild honey clings to the air. Tents made from scavenged cloth and colorful ribbons dot the forest clearing.
Near the center of camp, Veena sits leaning against a log, arms folded, eyes half-closed, doing her best to look aloof while not admitting she's worried. Penelo lies curled up beside her in a nest of grass and moss, snoring softly, ears twitching now and then. Vuvi has somehow found a decent-sized rock to sleep on, mumbling something in her sleep about stretching and numbing slimes.
The goblins are awake, though. All of them. Huddled together, whispering.
Then… footsteps softly echo from down a darkened path.
The goblins scramble upright. One peeks over a rock and squeaks. "He's back!"
The water spirits emerge first, tall and glowing like newly ascended goddesses, forms shimmering like starlight and spring rain.
