Rolling around in the mud while kicking and swinging my arms, I celebrate my unique and wondrous achievement. The deep other mind also finally relaxes into decompressed relief after I finish scanning all the text. Most significant of all, I have no idea what any of it means!

  Well, that’s not exactly true. I understand my name and age. Mud is clearly what I am, but goblin? Bah, it’s just some name, whatever it is. Mud is mud, and that’s enough.

  The middle section is nonsensical and worth ignoring completely. If words aren’t clear, then it’s best to throw them away. Garbage. Spoken or otherwise. Who wants to carry the weight of all that nonsense? Good riddance.

  In mocking jest, I lift a muddy finger to the light panel and smear it across the gibberish. To my shock, the information disappears, and I’m left with only the two sections I somewhat understand. The remaining smeared mud then slides down and slops off the panel completely without leaving any marks. Fascinating. I can touch my light exactly as I did when I stole it from the young one. Could he have touched his light too? If so, then why didn’t he? He was also fresh and new, so he probably needed to throw away the garbage too, I assume.

  Another experiment coming to mind, I smash my extended hand against the light in a hard chop. The panel responds by shrinking down to a point before disappearing. I immediately flick my wrist in excitement, intending to open it again, and it does! Wait, I didn’t say anything this time. Maybe the hand was always enough and practice was the solution after all. The wisdom of the mud guides me.

  Finally, I focus on the last section again. These “skills” or whatever that means. What are they? I puzzle at the list, swimming in circles as the screen follows the movement of my head wherever it goes. Wait, that’s right. The movements of the mind mud? The pain. When I recognized the metal for what it is. When I stole the pursuing song. When I recognized the treasure! And, I suppose too, when I accidentally started the fire. All these names appear to correspond to these events. They’re all songs! Like a checklist so I don’t forget. Is that actually useful?

  Frustrated by its clearly poor naming choice, I smash a muddy finger into the title of the section wishing for it to change. However, upon removing my finger, it stands defiantly unchanged. Angry at the failure, I swipe my muddy finger across it, hoping to cast it off the panel so that a better name replaces it. Again, the mud just sloughs off to no effect. Finally, I swipe a big fat chunk of mud up onto the tip of my finger and, full of some instinctual intention, artfully wisp it across the surface.

  “Ess. Oh. Eng. Jee. Ess. Sank,” I playfully chant.

  Another series of smears is left to slowly slide off the screen, but to my shock, it’s changed this time.

  Even more perplexing, after a brief moment, another smaller panel of light pops up in front of the first one, containing a message.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  What’s this? Another song has been stolen? When? How? Wait, there was no pain this time. No shifting mud. Only the message. Is that the difference that the light’s made? It makes stealing songs easier? For that alone then, stealing the light was worth it!

  I leap out of the mud and race over to the back skins, shaking my hands vigorously to get the excess off. Must be careful about getting too much mud on the treasure. Emptying the contents of both skins out onto the big rock one by one, I reevaluate everything with my new songs.

  First, the bound plant skins. These are incredibly valuable finds. They’re like darker versions of the floating lights. Dim lights? They contain words presumably scratched out by the big ones. Words that they may not wish me to read! Secret words. Treasure words!

  There are two in the first back skin and three in the second. Starting with the older treasures, I read off the writing on their covers: “Local Maps” and “Current Threats”. Opening the first, I’m thrilled to discover pictures! However, it’s like a big, colorful puzzle since none of it makes sense. Actually, these look like trees, this blue squiggle is kind of like a river, these bumpy things are like mountains or hills, and…

  “Song Map Reading has been acquired.”

  That’s it! This bit represents the area around my temporary home. Then this down here must be the beaten trail where I found the young one. That trail appears to connect to… whatever all these dark boxes outlined in a circle are. There’s a word next to it that says “Figeholm”. However, I don’t know what a figeholm is. That’s not helpful at all.

  Hitting a wall, I decide to move on to the next one. After reading through all the listed threats, I’m aghast to see that the priority is simply “goblins” without any additional details. The single word is repeatedly underlined in red over and over as if the writer was angry. That’s me, isn’t it? And my brothers. Are we really a threat?

  Thinking back to the vicious, marauding band I came here with and their antics at tearing the big ones apart as soon as we arrived, I suppose it does have a point. Although, it’s not like anything significant or important was threatened. Plus, why do they deserve to live? Rubbish. Might as well be more gibberish words to throw away. Not all treasure can be truly valuable.

  Dismissing the authority of the second plant skin entirely, I read the three newly procured titles from the young one: “Introduction to the Other World”, “Introduction to Magic”, and “Introduction to Mixing”. Introductions? These sound like wonderful, unexpected secrets. What powerful songs might they all contain?

  Excited to begin, I rush back to the mud, spending the rest of the day reading them all one by one. I have to hold them high above me to avoid getting them too smudged or else they’ll quickly become illegible. Then I’ll have to waste precious time stopping to scrape them clean again. What an annoying waste, but pain and labor are all treasure’s fee. Truly wisdom of the mud.

  Slowly, I begin to wrestle sense from the plant skins. They really did mistakenly trust this young one with so many priceless secrets. Why? Fools!