A fog lay over the marshes as Fairlain steadily made her way to the yet distant hills of the lone lands. Going carefully, she walked slowly enough that she could avoid the spots where the spongy soil turned to wet pools of water. Through the mists, the faint glow of small fires could be seen in the distance. Goblins. Fairlain took her new bow from her shoulder and nocked an arrow, ready to shoot any foul thing that came within her sights.
She hoped to reach the foothills by daybreak. There was a woman at the Inn there that would barter provisions and lodging for hides, and wolves and boar abounded in the sun dried hills of that place.
In that moment, she heard a gurgling and splashing coming up at her on the right. Turning, she saw a goblin rising out of the waters and without thinking she drew back the bowstring and sent a shaft straight through the creature's eye. It dropped without another sound. Retrieving her arrow and wiping it on the mossy ground, she nocked it once again and with one foot pushed the lifeless little monster into the water. She stood very still, listening.
There was movement in the distance, but it did not seem to be coming towards her. She proceeded with caution, listening all the while and scarcely breathing. As dawn approached more goblins began prowling the wetlands, but rather than hunting them she crept around, staying silent and hidden, a noiseless shadow. And as the first rays of light peeked over the eastern horizon, she saw the yellowed hills of the forsaken lands stretching before her. It was time to hunt.
