Someone spoke to him right after he passed through the gate.
“Oh, is that you, kid? Is your work done here?”
Gobta looked up to find a kobold merchant. Two hobgoblin fighters were behind him, along with the goblina with the muddy red hair.
“Oh, it’s you!” Gobta exclaimed.
The caravan was also just about on its way. Richer merchants would spend several nights in the city, enjoying the assorted entertainment options it offered, but the smaller-time caravans didn’t have that luxury. Get in, do your business, get home, and relax with your own kind—that was how they normally worked.
The kobolds invited Gobta onto their caravan after greeting him.
“We’re taking the same route, aren’t we? We have room, so why not join us? Just provide us some protection if any bandits or magic beasts show up,” their leader said with a grin. He was expecting nothing from Gobta, of course—this was just a polite excuse to get him on the wagon. Gobta, completely insensitive to sarcasm, laughed with him, a little proud to be offered such a role.
The group proceeded along the river path, blessed with an uneventful journey as they pressed through the grasslands and plunged into the Forest of Jura. Gobta had ample wild birds to hunt wherever they rested, a decent supply of nuts and fruit to gather—and he did his part, pooling his resources with the caravan’s.
“You’ve got a real talent for this, don’t you?” the leader said, a tad astonished. “Look at all the food you’ve tracked down for us…”
“Indeed,” another kobold interjected, “you must know the Forest of Jura like the back of your hand. In the woods, you’re a lot more help than I’d ever expect.”
“Quite true. I had no idea you had this kind of talent!”
Gobta, his latest catch in one hand and a spare stone in the other, couldn’t hide his joy at this. Nobody ever praised him this much in the village. He enjoyed it.
One day, they came across those poisonous-looking, brightly colored mushrooms again—just like the one Gobta had inadvertently eaten to quell his hunger.
You can’t eat these… But hang on. Huh? Those normal-looking mushrooms over there look kind of dangerous, too. Was that really the one I ate?
There was a spark of self-doubt in his mind—but those mushrooms were too colorful, and too bloodred and foreboding as well, to be considered edible at all. Even Gobta, who was rapidly letting all the praise get to his head, was a little iffy about trying it.
“Um, those plain ones? You can’t eat those,” the goblina told him. “Those are known as firespores, and they’re deadly. The stronger ones even explode if you expose them to fire, spreading poison all over the area. I won’t stop you if you want to try, but don’t expect to survive.”
Gobta nodded appreciatively. Of course he did. No way would he ever eat anything so dangerous.