Unlike the paths we'd taken out of the Blacknail Mountains, we could tell that the roads running through Eldar's Hills appeared well maintained. There weren't many holes and devoid of weeds. We spotted several instances of steaming dung with wheel tracks running through them, suggesting the paths were well-travelled too.

"Which way should we go?" I asked, standing atop Doctor Whoo's back and looking up and down the road.

"By the great spirit's name, why would I know?" Hruk grumbled, stroking Booger's head. The brorc's eyes had reddened and viscous yellow fluid dripped from his mouth. I couldn't tell whether it was a product of the poison or his flammable mucus. "I've never been in these parts before."

"How's Booger doing?"

"Not good. Your regenerative effects are fading. If we don't get him help soon, the poison will take over. It appears localised to his haunches, though. So perhaps it's just festering flesh instead of travelling through the blood."

Hruk's snippiness had reduced after napping in his saddle. I had led Booger behind Doctor Whoo and my music had kept both of them calm. It wasn't enough sleep unfortunately. We both needed proper food and rest. We had a little less than five hours of slumber between us and Liv had mostly fed us sugary treats. It charged us up for the battle, but didn't help now.

"Stay here," I told Hruk, glancing at the boulder-tipped hill to our right. "Doctor Whoo and I are going to have a look around. Hopefully, there's a village or hamlet close."

Hruk nodded, guiding Booger off the road behind some bushes. He rolled off the saddle, landed on his back, and exhaled loudly.

"I'm just going to lay here until you get back."

Perhaps it was an effect of Natural Mount or my Charisma, but Doctor Whoo seemed to understand me. She trotted uphill without my taunting.

Riding Master has progressed to Apprentice Rank 6!

I swiped the notification away, stroking the shrike’s neck. Her stomach rumbled as she hopped up stones and zipped in between trees.

"We'll get you food soon," I said. "I promise. If not, we'll set up camp and you can go hunt."

Doctor Whoo chuffed, snapping her beak.

"I'll take that as approval."

I hopped off Doctor Whoo's back once at the top of the hill. It took a moment's concentration to cast Updraft once again. The blast of wind added lift to my jump, carrying me to the narrow boulder’s top. My giant feet found traction without trouble, but it took a little scrambling to find a handhold and steady myself.

Primordial Magic has progressed to Novice Rank 2!

Despite the notification, my heart dropped as I scanned the area. The closest village was a distant sunlit beacon several hills away. Farmland surrounded it, but it didn't appear particularly close either. By my estimate, it would take us most of the day to get there. We'd have no option to stop somewhere and rest. That would mean letting Booger's condition worsen and spending more time on an empty stomach.

Suddenly, Doctor Whoo chirped below me. She glanced between me and further down the road. At first, I couldn't figure out what had caught her attention. So, I climbed further up the boulder and balanced at its fist-sized peak. Back on earth, the precarious position would make my testicles retreat up into my groin, but I trusted my new giant feet. Their exceptional grip strength and ability 5o step silently gave me confidence.

I was on the verge of giving up when I spotted movement. A giant bovine-beast appeared, dragging a crate laden card behind it. The creature resembled a wooly cow, featured long ribbed horns which ended in a sharp point, and had a soft, almost adorable face.

Hillock Cattle

Indigenous to Eldar's Hills, the beasts are known for their rich milk and woolly fur. Unlike their cousins that live on the plains, their meat tends to be tough and lean. Local hill folk treat it as a rare delicacy because of the high, gamey flavour.

Since the hill folk rely on the cattle to plow their fields as well, they hold them in high regard and only consume the beef during harvest feasts and special occasions.

It wasn't a surprise when the driver waved at me. Despite its grimy state, the multi-coloured patches on my cloak—gleeman cloak, as Edgar called it—stood out in the sunlight. I wasn't particularly trying to hide, either. When he didn't get a response, the rotund man raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled before waving again. I returned the gesture before rushing downhill on Doctor Whoo's back.

"Get up and get your cloak on," I told Hruk once back on the road. "There's a cart coming. Perhaps they can help."

Hruk looked up groggily. It appeared as if he had drifted off while waiting. He nodded, fastening his cloak and pulling up his hood. We didn't know how the locals perceived goblinkind. He didn't look much like one because of his gnomish heritage, and the Minor Blessing of the Mountain had further changed his appearance. However, his skin colour still had a noticeable green tinge to it. I didn’t know whether any other of Arena Disk’s races had a similar colouration. However, even though I had never met any wood elves, I knew it wasn’t the same hue.

“You do the talking,” Hruk said as the cart crested the closest hill, coming into view. “It’s for best if he pays me minimal attention.”

“That’s a given,” I told him. “I’m the one with the Charisma, after all.”

Before leaving Grog’s Table, Hruk had picked up a scarf to go with his cape. He raised it over his mouth and nose. It made him look more suspicious, but Hruk appeared more comfortable. The hobgoblin was barely older than me, but life had left him with too many insecurities. I had helped him get past a couple of them, and hopefully, the rest would soon follow.

To er on the side of caution, I used Satchel Monster to shrink Doctor Whoo to her miniature form before she emerged from the hill’s shadow. From what I had heard, goblins and other races often used porcine beasts to pull their carts. As a result, Booger wouldn’t raise too many red flags. In fact, if not for his colouration and the occasional puff of smoke out of his nostrils, he resembled an ordinary boar. Meanwhile, as a predatory mountain beast near the top of the food chain, a shrike would raise red flags. I hoped her miniature form would disguise her as an unknown oddity.

“Ho, there travellers!” The cart’s driver called as he got closer. He beamed at us, standing dangerously close to the edge of the driver’s seat. It was then I spotted the giant hairy feet that matched mine. “Tell me that’s a gleeman cloak.”

There was the phrase again. I didn’t quite know what the word meant, but given the connotations and definitions attached to the term glee, I assumed a gleeman was an entertainer of sorts.

“It is!” I exclaimed. “A bard needs to stand out, am I right?”

“They do,” the halfling replied, as his cart rolled closer. He pulled up a couple of metres from us and leaned forward in his seat, studying Hruk and I. “What are you lot doing so close to the mountains? It’s not safe, you know.”

“We just escaped through them,” I told him. “We were on our way to Eldar’s Plains before skinks chased us off our path. I managed to barricade a narrow pass and travelling down it landed us here.”

“Skinks?” The halfling raised an eyebrow. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “They’re a nasty bunch, I tell you.” He offered me a hand. “I’m Thomas Gammon.”

“Peregrin Kanooks. My friends call me Perry.” I nodded at Hruk, shaking the halfling’s hand. “My companion doesn’t talk much. He’s Hruk. A powerful mage and artificer.”

“Greetings, Mage Hruk,” the halfling bowed to Hruk. “Encountering a mage is a much rarer occurrence than a bard.” He chuckled, focusing on me. “I suppose it’s my lucky day. If you’re inviting me to address you as Perry, you may call me Tom.”

“That’s great, Tom,” I said, smiling ear to ear. “Could you perhaps direct us to the closest village? Hruk’s mount got stung by skink poison while carrying us to safety. He’s holding strong for now, but I worry things might worsen unless we get him help.”

Tom’s brows furrowed. He hopped off his cart and hesitantly approached Booger’s rear. Hruk stroked the beast in the meantime, keeping it calm. The halfling stopped half a meter away and leaned close, studying the bloodied patch of fur.

“That looks nasty,” he said. “No. No. No. We can’t have a glorious boar like this die to a festering wound. That’d be a shame. If you’re looking for a proper village, there is nothing close. However, there’s a cluster of unified hamlets up ahead. Why don’t you come along? I’m sure there’s someone there that can help you.”