She grabbed her two swords and fixed them at her hip. Next, the crossbow and quiver looped around her arm and laid across her back. Her weapons, ready to be drawn at any time.
All her protective gear – vambraces, chest and shoulder guards – strapped on tight but allowing for maximum mobility.
Finally, her pouch of spellcards hooked onto her belt. The weight rested comfortably on her right hip.
Eis was prepared and it was time to head out.
The path east of Lumaire was quiet, dotted with farmers and patches of new forest. After an hour, she reached the fork toward Riverside Trail — wolf territory.
She moved carefully, steps almost silent.
A growl.
Then another.
Five wolves emerged from the brush, grey fur bristling.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
A clean, necessary elimination.
The first wolf lunged — Eis struck directly, blade slicing across its throat with precise efficiency. It dropped instantly.
Two more charged — Eis pivoted, one blade sinking cleanly into the side of the first, the second wolf dispatched with a swift downward strike.
The last two tried to flank her.
Eis moved faster.
Two flashes of steel — brief, controlled, lethal.
The pack fell one by one, the forest going quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves.
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Eis exhaled and wiped her blades clean on the nearest pelt. She cut a strip for proof of subjugation and sheathed her weapons.
That’s that.
She turned to leave—
A sharp, guttural chittering cut through the trees.
Eis froze.
Goblins.
She crouched instinctively.
Three of them slipped from the bushes — lean, small, armed with crude bows and daggers. They inspected the dead wolves, exchanging hushed gestures.
Eis narrowed her eyes.
Riverside Trail was far from their usual territory.
Goblins scouted around Old Mill Road, not here.
Which meant—
There’s a camp nearby. Hidden.
The goblins regrouped, then scurried off the trail, heading deeper into a valley between Riverside Trail and Old Mill Road — a place neither route fully overlooked.
Eis followed.
Silent.
Patient.
Shadowlike.
Signs appeared the deeper she tracked them:
- light goblin footprints
- broken branches
- old fire pits
- rusted scraps of tools
Classic indicators of a small, recently formed camp.
Eis slowed her breathing.
Finally, through the trees, she saw it:
A clearing.
A crude fence.
Four makeshift tents.
A smoldering cooking fire.
A small pit being dug.
A hidden goblin outpost, perfectly placed between the two common routes — explaining why scouts had begun appearing in both areas.
Her grip tightened slightly on her blades.
Small camp.
Barely fortified.
Disorganized.
I can handle this.
She stepped forward— silent, lethal, certain.