Deglan stopped. In his tirade he had let go of Blink’s hand while flailing his own angrily above his head. She had stopped walking and was now standing motionless several dozen paces behind. Deglan’s heart sank. It was all a waste of breath and there was nothing he could do to change that. There was no herb that could cure this poor child. And what had he hoped to accomplish? To explain that she would have to see goblins again? The same pug-nosed bastards that had slain her parents and found the act a lark? But that they were different from other goblins, because they had chosen to accept Hob’s decree and come back to gnomish ways? That they were good goblins? She had no reason to trust that, and Deglan would be lying to her if he said she should, because he did not believe it himself.

“Forget the story,” Deglan said and walked back to where Blink stood. He squatted down and placed one hand on her face and the other he cupped under her chin. Gently he raised her head until she looked him in the eye. “If you hear nothing else, sweet one, hear this. No matter what we see or who we meet…I will not let anything happen to you. I will keep you safe…or you can kick me in the shins.”

They spent another night in the woods and this time Deglan risked a fire. They both needed some hot food, so he boiled up a broth with some leeks and tubers he found during the day. It was bitter stuff but Blink put it down without a sign of distaste or approval and slept through the night. The next day brought them to an area of the forest covered in steep rolling hills. The trees marched up the leaf choked embankments and down again, forming deep valleys in the forest floor where thin creeks gurgled with dark water. It took Deglan the better part of the day to find a gate.