Secrets

The girl looked up at Klein, her eyes flitting back and forth between him and Lina, a storm of uncertainty swirling within those vibrant amber depths. The firelight flickered over her angular goblin features, accentuating the guarded lines of her face. She shifted nervously, her hand—initially concealed within the folds of her cloak—slowly emerging, fingers trembling slightly as if the very act of exposing herself was a risk.

"Uh, sure," she finally said, her voice a measured whisper that seemed to echo the cautious climate of the Tovar Woodlands surrounding them.

Klein settled onto one of the weather-beaten crates beside her, scrutinizing her demeanor. The twitching of her fingers revealed a readiness to defend herself, a testament to the path she had walked alone. She was battle-scarred in ways he could only guess, and despite her small stature, there was a resilience in her demeanor. "I'm Klein Ashford," he introduced himself, gesturing to Lina, who stood beside him, her expression inscrutable. "And this is Lina…" He trailed off, feeling awkward as he realized he couldn't remember her last name.

"Hleverh," Lina interjected, her voice as flat and chilling as the night air that wrapped around them. She settled onto the crate opposite Klein, her presence a peculiar comfort amid the palpable tension.

"Astrid," the goblin girl replied, letting out a faint sigh as she leaned back against the crate, her travel-worn leather bag resting heavily on the ground behind her. The sharpness in her eyes belied a world-weary wisdom, suggesting life had taught her lessons no child should have to learn. Klein felt a pang of sympathy for her; goblins were often cast as troublemakers, caricatures of cunning and deceit, but here was a young girl touched by the flame of survival rather than malice.

"Oh!" With a sudden burst of energy, Astrid rummaged through her bag, producing a small ceramic jar, its cloth cover tied securely with a leather strap. The dim firelight splashed dancing shadows across her features, and a tangy aroma wafted toward Klein—a scent he recognized from a time far less solitary. "Fermented vegetables?" he guessed, amusement peeking through his voice.

Astrid's eyes widened, delight momentarily brightening her expression. "H-how did you know?" she stammered, momentarily breaking the wall she had built around herself.

Klein leaned back, nostalgia washing over him. "My friend Kar and his wife used to make fermented vegetables all the time," he explained, his voice tinged with warmth. Memories of the long, arduous days spent escorting caravans through the deceptive beauty of these very woodlands unfolded in his mind. He recalled sun-dappled paths and the mingling scents of brine and spices simmering over camp stoves, the camaraderie offering solace against the vast wilderness. But Kar and his wife were no more, their absence keenly felt. A bittersweet smile ghosted across Klein's lips, the warmth of the fire enveloping him—a fleeting comfort against the weight of loss.

"Want some?" Astrid asked, thrusting the jar forward with a sense of purpose.

"Oh no, I couldn't," Klein said, instinctively raising a hand. "We don't have any supplies to share with you."

"That's okay." She pushed the jar closer, her small hands unwavering. "Try one."

Klein hesitated, caught in a memory of how Kar would insist on hospitality. There was a fierce, familial energy in Astrid's demeanor that mirrored his old friend. With a resigned chuckle, he yielded, reaching into the jar to retrieve a small chunk of pickled goodness. The earthy flavor hit his tongue, the sweetness and spice blending together in a delightful dance of taste that was surprisingly intricate.

"You too," Astrid said, her eyes alight with enthusiasm as she passed the jar to Lina. She leaned in closer, a conspiratorial smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. "You have to try this."

Lina, without a hint of hesitation, took a piece, her motions deliberate and measured. The contrast between her calm, almost robotic demeanor, and Astrid's vibrant expressiveness created an interesting dynamic. Klein found himself intrigued, wondering about the depths of Lina's thoughts—did she process emotions differently? Or dismiss them entirely?

"What did you put in this?" Klein asked, savoring the complexity of the flavor still rolling on his tongue. "It has a unique taste."

Astrid's sharp grin widened, revealing her pointed teeth glistening in the firelight. "I wanted to try some spices I picked up in Silvermoor a few months back."

Klein blinked, his surprise evident. Silvermoor was a bustling port town on the far side of Veldris, a two-month trek through treacherous terrain—a remarkable journey for someone so young. "That's quite a trek," he admitted, his smile widening, though a flicker of unease crept in. "But it's good. Goblins can ferment anything," he joked, the warmth of shared experience filling the air.

Just then, another voice chimed in, tinged with shyness. "Um, I-I have some dried fruits from the elven lands," the black-haired woman said, rummaging through her pack. She pulled out a small bundle wrapped in butcher's paper and approached, her brow slightly dampened with uncertainty.

"I'm Selene," she introduced herself, a nervous smile creeping onto her face. She carefully unwrapped the fruit, revealing a collection of vibrant hues, their sugar-crystallized surfaces glistening under the light.

"Are you sure?" Klein began to question, but before he could finish, Astrid's hand shot out, snatching a piece and popping it into her mouth.

"It's good!" she enthused, her eyes lighting up even as juice dribbled down her chin.

Selene laughed softly, her initial timidity easing under Astrid's fervor. "Well, I'm glad you like it." She then turned the dried fruit toward Klein, who accepted a piece, savoring the rich sweetness as it burst in his mouth.

As Selene settled cross-legged on a crate, she glanced at them. "It's odd that you two are traveling through the Tovar Woodlands without supplies," she remarked, her gaze sharp and scrutinizing, as if determining if their story held merit or if it was a façade.

Klein felt a thread of unease knotting in his stomach. "We weren't planning to go far—just to Aveloria," he explained, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

Selene's brow furrowed with concern, a flicker of something—fear?—crossing her features. "That's still three or four days away," she noted, her eyes darting briefly to the flickering shadows beyond the fire. "And these woods are dangerous, especially at night." Her voice grew earnest. "Please, help yourself if you want more."

Astrid didn't require any further encouragement; she eagerly grabbed another piece of fruit, her expression fierce and determined.

"Aveloria, huh?" Selene continued, eyeing Klein keenly, her body language shifting subtly, betraying a hint of tension beneath her calm demeanor. "Mind if I ask why you're traveling there?"

"Hunting," Lina interjected before Klein could respond, her tone flat and unadorned.

"Oh, um, no," Klein backtracked, catching the flicker of confusion and concern that crossed Selene's features. "We're planning to register at the guild, maybe take on a few jobs," he added quickly, feeling the need to divert the conversation. "So, I see you're a mage?"

"Yes," Selene replied, though the concern didn't fully dissipate from her expression. "I trained at the Royal Academy in the capital." There was a subtle pride in her voice, but it was layered with something deeper, a shadow of memories perhaps best left unspoken.

Klein felt an unexpected connection spark between them. "That's where my wife trained," he murmured, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. As soon as the words left his lips, images of Elizabeth flooded his mind—her laughter ringing like a bell, the way her gentle hands weaved stories with magic and care, igniting joy in the mundane.

Selene's eyes widened a fraction, surprise breaking the surface of her demeanor, warming her expression momentarily. "Oh? What's her name?"

As her question hung in the air, the atmosphere in the camp shifted, growing taut with unsaid emotions. Klein's heart sank, the echo of her inquiry stirring a rush of pain that felt all too fresh. How could he respond with her memory still so vivid, as if he were in the midst of losing her all over again? "Elizabeth," he finally managed, each syllable tasting like ash on his tongue. "Her name was Elizabeth."

Selene's face morphed into concern, the weight of her gaze anchoring Klein to the moment. "Was?" she echoed, as if the word hung heavy, sending tendrils of discomfort throughout their small gathering. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I-it's fine," he managed, focusing on inhaling slowly, grounding himself. "My daughter also went to the Royal Academy."

"You have a daughter?" Selene asked, confusion flaring in her eyes.

"Yes, two actually." Klein reached beneath his cloak to retrieve a crumpled picture. "Emily is on the right, and Anna is on the left," he said, offering the photo to her.

Selene took the picture in her hands, her eyes darting between the image and Klein. "They're beautiful," she marveled, her words softening the sharp edge in her tone, though a flicker of something darker remained in her eyes.

An awkward silence descended, hanging thick like fog. Just as Klein was about to break it, Selene stood abruptly, smoothing her clothing as she handed the picture back to Klein. "Well, I think I'm going to head to bed," she announced, her voice edging toward briskness. "It was nice to meet you both." A forced smile punctuated her words before she turned on her heel, striding away with an urgent quality.

As she crossed the camp, Klein caught the faint whisper of her words to Roland. He noticed the way Roland's men exchanged glances, their hands subtly drifting toward their weapons, their expressions shifting from casual to alert. The camaraderie that had filled the camp moments ago morphed into an uneasy quiet, the flickering fire now casting shadows of suspicion.

Klein's instincts prickled, the air thick with a sensation he had learned to recognize over time. Something's not right, he thought, feeling Lina's unyielding presence beside him, a rock in the storm. She remained eerily still, eyes fixed on the fire as if hypnotized by its dance. Did she sense the shift? Did she feel the danger lurking nearby?

Astrid, however, seemed to notice. Her back straightened, sharp eyes darting toward Selene and Roland's group. She didn't speak, but the subtle tension in her posture, coupled with the slow movement of her hand toward the bag at her side, articulated her readiness far better than words.

"I guess we should get some rest too," Klein suggested, attempting to steer the rising anxiety into a safer lane of normalcy. He turned to Lina, who nodded, rising to her feet and moving toward the only empty tent left.

"Wait," a thought struck him as he turned back to Astrid. "Where are you going to sleep, Astrid?"

"Oh, I usually sleep in the back of the carriage," she replied, stretching her arms above her head. "Tents make me claustrophobic."

"Okay then," Klein said, standing to join her as she bounded into the carriage with surprising agility. "Goodnight," he offered, hoping to infuse warmth into the tension.

As he approached the tent, he found Lina sitting cross-legged in the corner, her posture serene yet alert. "What are you doing?" he asked, sensing the need to reconnect with familiar ground.

"Resting," she replied curtly, the line of her words precise, carrying an almost palpable finality.

"Not sleeping?" Klein pressed.

"I don't require sleep," she stated, her gaze unwavering, as daunting as the shadows lurking just beyond the tent walls.

"You can still do it," Klein reasoned, crawling inside and pulling the covers over himself. "Goodnight," he ventured, trying to shake off the weight of uncertainty, but Lina remained silent, merely staring into the glow of the fire flickering at the entrance.

Exhaustion washed over him, and the burdens of the day finally caught up, drawing him into the depths of slumber.

---

Only a short time had passed—perhaps an hour—when a rustle from outside the tent stirred him awake.

"Lina?" he called groggily, turning over to find her still in the same position as before, the stillness of her demeanor holding a sense of foreboding.

"You're awake," she stated matter-of-factly, as if she had known all along that this moment would come.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Klein muttered, the grogginess hanging over him like a dark fog. He pushed stray strands of hair out of his face as he squinted into the dim campfire light filtering through the tent flap.

"Klein," Lina said, her voice now low and serious.

"Yes?"

"One issue," she continued, her voice steady, and just then, Klein's curiosity peaked as he cautiously peeked his head out of the tent flap.

He was met by the pointed tip of Roland's short sword.

"Our tent is surrounded."