“A smoke-tail. A signal humans use to let one another know where they’re at.” Her lips tightened. “I don’t think we want to announce ourselves to the dragon quite yet, do you?”

Jig stared at the tree. The leaves were green, but the wood itself was brown and rough. Wood was wood. Jig had never seen green wood, and he had no idea why the sticks Riana was picking off the ground were any better than this branch. Except, maybe, that he didn’t know how many trees he could attack before his hand grew numb.

Seeing his indecision, Riana sighed and dropped her small pile of sticks. “Put that away,” she said impatiently. When Jig’s sword was safely back in its sheath, she pointed to the branch he had cut. “See the sap?”

Jig squinted. By putting his face three inches from the branch, he could make out a few drops of clear liquid oozing out of the cut.

“That’s because the branch is still alive. It’s wet inside, so it won’t burn. Gather the branches that have died and fallen off. The dryer the better.” She picked up one branch and broke it in half. “See? No sap. I’m amazed you goblins haven’t suffocated yourselves if you don’t know enough to use dry wood.”

“There aren’t many trees in the upper tunnels,” Jig snapped. How was he supposed to know that brown wood wasn’t always brown, and that clear tree blood turned wood green? He gave the tree a disgusted look and began to grab sticks from the ground.

“What do you burn for fuel?” Riana asked.

“Elves.” He didn’t want to admit that, for the most part, goblins couldn’t scrounge enough fuel for fires. As for the muck, that was barely enough to keep the lair lit, let alone warm. It was all they could do to fuel a real cookfire, and even that required them to trade with the hobgoblins. Unlike goblins, hobgoblins would venture onto the surface. They took the weapons and coins the goblins had scavenged in exchange for a few bundles of wood. Just one more way to keep the goblins weak and the hobgoblins strong. Jig wondered why he had never seen it before. By taking most of the weapons, the hobgoblins kept the goblins from becoming a real threat.

A rustling from ahead made Jig start. He dropped his sticks and grabbed his sword. “Did you hear that?”

Riana shook her head. She did draw her dagger, though, and Jig saw fear in her eyes as she scanned the woods.

“We could get killed out here,” Jig whispered. Why had Barius sent the two weakest people off on their own? He remembered the dead ogres. Was this another ogre, one who had avoided the creature that killed its fellows? Jig shivered. Or perhaps this was the creature itself. Having slain the ogres, was it hunting new prey?