The three elves counted seven different wolves going in and out of the den. They left in groups of two or three to hunt. They came back with meat from kills. There were probably two or three mothers about to give birth or who had already given birth.

The elves spread out in the trees surrounding the den entrance. They began to pick off the active wolves with arrows, one by one. In a day, all seven were dead, and we were seven gold pieces richer. Before they left, Cloud Eye started a large fire using charcoal at the mouth of the den and then felled a tree to block it. The tree would keep the remaining wolves inside, and the charcoal fire would exhaust all the good air in the den so the mothers and cubs would die of the sleeping asphyxiation. We didn't claim any credit for the wolves trapped inside the den since we had no proof we had killed them.

"Funny thing about those wolves," Cloud said that evening as we packed up to leave in the morning. "They were red wolves. I've never seen red wolves this far west before."

"How far west do they usually roam?" Cat asked.

"Osterius," Cloud rolled up a pair of stockings. "Red wolves don't like our drier climate. They like the big forests with the trees that lose their leaves every year. The blue wolves are the ones who like our evergreen forests and high plateaus."

The Goblin Queen had sent one of her hobgoblin soldiers with the horses. They called them horses, but from an elven perspective, they were ponies. If Motley Owl didn't use the stirrups, he could brush the ground with his toes.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get Cat on one of the horses. He was too short and not strong enough to mount on his own. Motley Owl finally walked over, picked Cat up, and put him in the saddle. Cat pouted for the rest of the morning. Owl sometimes forgets how touchy Cat is about being short and weak.

The hobgoblin was just a taller version of the goblin farmers but with a far worse personality. Our hobgoblin was called Tweed, and he was unpleasant, to be charitable. He wore leather scale armor and an iron helmet. He had a short sword hanging from a scabbard on his belt, and a round shield slung over his back. What one could see of his face reminded me of a potato, only colored green.

Tweed didn't like the black masks my hunting party wore that covered everything but the mouth. He also took an immediate dislike to Cat Rider. "Stinks like human excrement," Tweed would mutter every chance he could get, making sure he was within Cat's earshot.

That remark displeased me. Cougars have good noses; not as good as dogs, but certainly better than goblins. My boy smells like elven soap. Trust me on this. Tweed didn't even acknowledge I existed. I think he was convinced I was some kind of pet.

As we left the hospitable goblins of Cedar Stands, Wren rode up alongside me, since I didn't get a horse. "Look, Fuzzy," Wren pointed back at the palisade of the village while wearing an evil grin. "They took your decoration suggestion." I turned to look. Several goblins were using their magic to make every pole in the palisade a different color.

"Petel sent a message to all the neighboring villages telling them about this," Wren chortled in a most sinister manner. "Whoever knew what a great influence you would have on goblin aesthetics, Fuzz." Wren was greatly amused by this.

We passed through three villages before we stopped for the night at the fourth. The village head escorted us to the guest house and ushered us in. Owl and Cloud started to lead the horses around back. Just as I was putting my paw on the front step, a boot lifted my chin and pushed me backward.

"Animals stay in the shed," Tweed declared.

Everyone froze as I tumbled backward. I picked myself up, out of the dirt, and shook the dust off. I sat down and took a deep breath. Then I let it out slowly. I relaxed my shoulders and looked at the hobgoblin with a death wish.

"Fuzzy! No!" Cat shouted.

I sprang and took Tweed down, a paw on each shoulder.

* My hunting party has five members: three fighters and two mages. I am the second mage, and I like sleeping on mattresses. * I stepped over him as I walked inside. There were no more incidents like that one, but Tweed's attitude didn't change.

By the end of the second day, I was out of patience with the ill-behaved hobgoblin. I cast the healing spell to cure constipation on Tweed when we stopped for the night in another small goblin village. I'm sure it was not a nice thing to do, but whoever said I had to be nice to people who insulted my boy as frequently as breathing?

Tweed had the runs so badly by morning that we had to leave without him. It was such a shame. We cheerfully took his map and the road pass and went on our merry way. For the rest of the day, Cat kept giving me these suspicious looks. I can't imagine why. I was doing my best to appear completely innocent.

I found the goblin kingdom to be a pleasant place. The little green people with round heads were peaceful farmers. Once they got over their initial caution, they were friendly. They liked that we were here to hunt down dangerous animals. The only downside I could see was their terrible taste in decoration which only got worse the closer we came to Kizdangengar.

In the larger towns, the houses got taller, where every outside wall and every story was a different color. So a four-sided two-story house would host eight different colors, with contrasting shutters, of course. I also noticed one other strangeness about the colors of goblin buildings: they never used green.