They halted at the edge of the cleft. The cut in the ridge was clean and empty, smelling of wet rock and pine. “This will do,” Dravak said. “We make our stand here. They will arrive by sundown. Lets prepare while we have the time.”

  Hask and Kesh marked the perimeter. Warriors disappeared into the treeline in small teams to the east and west, where they would wait unseen. The Fangs of Winter remained visible on the stone shoulders of the Jaw, wolves crouched and still behind the leadership that stood below.

  Grub stood near the center with Sable, watching the last placements. The plan was simple: one blast of the horn if all was well, three if things turned bad. Until then, quiet.

  Clouds thickened toward evening, turning the light flat and gray. Cold bit a little harder. “They will come soon,” Dravak said at his shoulder. "And we will be ready for them,” Grub answered.

  “Are you ready to speak on the tribes behalf again?” “As ready as I will ever be.” They all settled in to wait patiently for the humans arrival.

  The first hint of them came with dusk a few hours later, their shapes moving in the mist, this time six cloaked figures slipping between trees to the south. They stepped out into the open and stopped. Lantern light washed over their skull-carved masks. Hands rose and traced slow, practiced patterns; faint light ran along fingers and died. No blades drawn. No rush.

  Only then did Grub lift the horn and sound a single, long note. It rolled across the cleft and into the trees. No warriors emerged. The forest held its breath. Grub lowered the horn and met the gaze of the lead mask. “We are not alone,” he said evenly.

  The humans’ eyes flicked to the dark line of trees, then back. They nodded.

  Dravak took one step forward, hand resting on the haft of his axe. “Let us hear what you came to offer,” he said, voice carrying through the darkness. Grub exhaled once, steady, and watched as The Harvest approached them.

  The six humans stopped a few paces from the goblins, their cloaks whispering in the wind that wound through the Jaw. The lantern they carried cast long, thin shadows across the stone.

  Dravak stood tall at the front, the faint light catching on his teeth. Beside him were his lieutenants: Grub, Kesh, Hask, and Throk, with the two hobgoblin guards standing slightly behind. The Fangs of Winter lined the ridge above, wolves silent but watchful, their yellow eyes fixed on the humans. Their eyes flicked up towards the silhouettes above, but they said nothing.

  At the center of that line sat Rika, astride her wolf Ashpaw, a imposing dark shape framed by drifting fog. The wolf’s fur gleamed like wet iron, his eyes catching the faint lantern glow. When the humans spoke, the words were again rough but understandable in Goblin.

  “You came,” Jin said. His voice was cool, almost polite.

  Dravak inclined his head slightly. “Of course. We said we would. I am Dravak, Chief of the Ironfang. These are my lieutenants.” He gestured as he spoke, giving each name its weight. “Grub, Kesh, Hask, and Throk.” He paused for a moment, then he lifted his voice. “And Rika.”

  A heavy thud sounded from above. Ashpaw leapt down from the ridge, landing easily in a shower of dust and pine needles thirty feet below. The wolf moved with smooth precision, his bulk dwarfing the humans as he came to stand beside Dravak.

  Rika stayed astride him, back straight, hand resting lightly on the curve of her bow. “Rika,” she said clearly. “Commander of the Fangs of Winter.”

  Ashpaw padded forward a few steps, circling the gathered humans. They flinched slightly as the wolf moved toward them, but made no other moves. His massive frame moved silently for something so large, the muscles beneath his fur shifting like coiled cables. Their eyes tracked the wolves movements warily. He stopped, sniffed at the air around them, then snorted once, a low rumble vibrating from his chest before returning to stand behind Dravak.

  The humans’ body language tensed at the noise. Jin’s hand twitched briefly toward his cloak before he mastered it. The rest stood still, uncertain whether to stare in wonder or look away.

  Jin’s gaze passed over them one by one. His eyes lingered on Grub a moment longer than the others before returning to Dravak. “Your tribe is quite... unusual,” he said. “Goblins do not normally divide power. They take it, and hoard it for themselves when they have the chance.”

  Dravak’s voice was calm. “We are a different kind of tribe, as you can plainly see. We have found that sharing the power brings better results.”

  The masked figures glanced at one another, but none replied. The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of pine sap and cold stone.

  “You said before,” Jin continued, looking to Grub, “that the Ironfang wish to grow stronger. We can help with that.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Grub’s voice was calm but edged. “In return for what?” Jin’s tone remained level. “For obedience. For action. We want the same deal the Red Tusk had.”

  Dravak’s eyes hardened. “No.”

  The answer came without hesitation, sudden and sharp. The humans went still, surprised by the bluntness. “We do not take orders from outsiders,” Dravak continued. “If you want something done, speak it plainly and we may negotiate our price. But we serve no one.”

  Jin tilted his head slightly, studying the chief. “Then perhaps we will speak plain, as you suggest. Very well. There are human settlements south of this forest. Farms. Roads. Villages. We would have you strike them.”

  Rika’s gaze darkened, her hand flexing on Ashpaw’s reins. The wolves still arrayed above her on the ridge growled low, a ripple of warning that passed through the line.

  “Why?” Grub asked. His voice was quiet, but the question carried. Jin looked to him. “Why would you want your own kind attacked?”

  Jin hesitated. His tone had cooled when he finally spoke after a short pause. “They are enemies to us. Obstacles to our faith. Their fall benefits both our cause and your tribe’s growth.” Grub frowned. “Your faith?”

  Another of the humans stepped forward, his mask carved with deeper lines. "We are The Harvest,” he said. “We sow our seeds, and the old world burns away. Only the strong and worthy will remain.”

  Grub’s eyes narrowed. “And you accomplish this by turning goblins against your own? I thought you said you wanted trade, not slaughter.”

  Jin’s tone cooled further. “We want that which will help us further our goals. Prove your worth and supplies will follow.” Grub frowned. "How does slaughtering humans further your goal?" "That is not for you to know."

  Dravak’s hand tightened on his axe. “We will not raid human settlements. There are other ways to prove strength.”

  A brief silence followed. The wind whistled softly through the ridge.

  Grub broke it. “If that is all you have to offer, then this meeting ends here. We will take what you’ve given us and walk away.”

  Jin studied him for a long moment. Then he turned his head slightly to the side, as if listening to one of the others through the mist. He turned around and the other five humans leaned in close, their voices low and indistinct.

  When they straightened again, Jin turned back to them and stepped forward once more. “Perhaps there is another way,” he said. “Far to the east, there is another tribe of goblins. Larger than yours, probably. They attacked one of our supply groups two weeks ago. Killed every last one. They call themselves the Bonegnashers. They are hostile to us, and to all humans who approach their lands.”

  “How large is this tribe?” Grub asked.

  “Between seventy-five and one hundred,” Jin said. “Their camp lies two days south, then four or five east of this place.”

  Grub’s mind moved through the possibilities. A tribe that size was dangerous, but not beyond reason. He asked a steady stream of precise questions, and the humans answered where they could.

  “Do they hold a single camp or several?” he asked. “Mostly one main hollow on a high spur,” Jin said. “Outlying hunting parties go further, but the bulk is in one place.” “Do they trade with anyone else? Humans, or other tribes?” Grub pressed. “Not that we know,” Jin replied. “They fought us any time we came near.” “What weapons do they carry? Do they have any armor? Any fortifications to their camp that might make an attack more difficult?”

  “They wield mostly axes, crude spears, and some slings,” another of the humans said. “They have rough palisades in places, not much more than a few sharpened stakes set in the ground. Nothing like a city wall. It is simple work, but dangerous if approached the wrong way.”

  Grub nodded. “And leadership? How many fighters turn out when they are called? What are their strengths?”

  “We estimate fifty to seventy warriors normally, though it is likely more when they go raiding,” Jin said. “They're strong, vicious fighters. Not particularly well drilled, but quite fierce and loyal.”

  Grub’s face gave nothing away. He considered the ask and what they might demand in return. “We can take them for the right price,” he said finally. “But we will need the means to do it and to survive afterward. We will ask for payment now rather than later.”

  Jin’s gaze sharpened. “Name your price.”

  Grub spoke the list carefully and loud enough for all to hear. “Two crates of medical supplies and medicine. Forty steel spears. Forty bows. Armor for our warriors. Specifically, thirty hardened leather vests cut to fit goblin bodies and thirty sets of basic chainmail to wear over those vests. In addition, three sets of each, sized for hobgoblins, for my chief and his bodyguards. Five crates of food. And lessons. Teach me your language spell, and teach me to speak your tongue without relying on it.”

  Silence fell. The Harvest exchanged looks. Jin’s mask tilted slightly, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “That is... a great demand.”

  “It is fair,” Grub said. “You want a large tribe removed. We will risk men and wolves. We will take the casualties if it goes poorly. Supply us so we have a better chance to survive and can fight again afterwards. Teach me to speak your tongue and we can converse later without magic. That matters to us.”

  Another of the humans hissed something low to Jin. The leader turned and listened as the group talked animatedly for a few moments. Jin nodded, then turned back to face them again before he spoke, his voice careful. “We will provide medical supplies, food, and armor. We will provide training for the spell and a tutor for your speech. The chainmail you request can be supplied in basic form. The hobgoblin sets we can make as well. Forty spears and bows on top of everything else is asking too much though. That is our counter-offer.”

  Grub inclined his head without showing the satisfaction brimming behind it. He had asked high on purpose. He had expected bargaining. This result was better than he had dared hope. He turned to Dravak, who just gave him a simple nod, a sign telling him that it was his decision to make. He returned his gaze to the six humans across from them. "We accept these terms. You will bring the supplies to a place I have marked on a map. It is closer to our home. Once we have received the supplies, we will move against the Bonegnashers."

  “Five days,” Jin responded. “We will bring the goods in five days. We will have men at the place you marked.”

  Grub took a strip of bark from his pouch that he had sketched a rough map on earlier, making sure the hill and stream were clear and the path less than half a day from the den. He pushed it toward Jin. “Here. This is the meeting spot.”

  Jin glanced at the bark map for a few moments, and he seemed to orient himself based on Grubs markings, then nodded. “We can find it.”

  Dravak stepped forward, low and final. “Bring the supplies. In five days we will be there to collect. We will deal with the Bonegnashers for you. Nothing else. You want other work done after, you must pay more."

  Jin nodded, and turned away. The humans moved as if to leave. Before they moved, Grub stepped forward and extended his hand to the humans.

  Jin froze. The others did as well. The gesture hung awkward and raw between two species that had never met as equals. For the length of a breath none of them moved. Then Jin reached out, took Grub’s hand briefly, and let it go as if the touch had burned. “Until next time,” he said. Grub nodded. “Until next time.”

  The six figures turned and vanished into the fog, their lantern light fading behind them. The sound of their footsteps dwindled and then was gone.

  For a while, the only sound was the wind. Then Dravak exhaled. “They never saw the others.” “No,” Grub said quietly. “And that is how it should stay. Let them guess at our true strength.”

  Grub lifted the horn again and blew a single low note. The sound rolled across the Jaw and into the trees. It was a signal both to the hidden warriors and to the humans beyond the fog. He let the echo die down, then waited.

  The hidden warriors did not move into the clearing yet. Their presence had been implied, the horn confirming discipline and readiness without revealing numbers.

  Jin paused in the mist for a beat, glancing back once before disappearing completely.

  The Ironfang waited a short while, then regrouped in silence. The meeting had ended, and the next steps were clear. The Harvest would return in five days with promised supplies. The Ironfang had a target. They had the Bonegnashers name, numbers, and rough location. They would figure out the rest from there.

  Grub’s plans already turned in his head, fitting the humans’ information to tactics and formations. They gathered their things and moved out from the Jaw, each thinking the same thing in their own way: the next meeting would cement an uneasy bargain, and the forest had changed forever.