Nagrand Plains, somewhere near a campsite.
There was no campfire, no hot water—only the dry sound of everyone chewing on barley cakes.
Goblin Gordmanpu held a map in one hand and gnawed on a hard, dry cake with the other. After studying it for a long while, he said to Dranosh, "We still have a little over a day's journey to reach the southern outpost. Yesterday's rush should have left them behind."
After getting to his feet, Dranosh looked back toward the rear. Seeing no sign of that bloated figure, he took a deep breath and suppressed some emotion before calmly saying, "We can't relax yet. These grasslands are their familiar hunting grounds. Whether it's for that little bounty or because they discovered our identities, they have every reason to catch up and take a shot at us."
"What should we do?" the Goblin asked worriedly.
"We can only rest until midnight, then travel again during the second half of the night. And we'll make some trouble for them while we're at it." Dranosh was not someone to be trifled with either.
"What do you have in mind?" everyone asked expectantly.
A sinister smile appeared on his face. "Their greatest advantage in tracking us is those dire wolves. We're on foot, so sooner or later they'll catch us. We might as well find a way to set a trap for those wolf pups. Teach them not to eat things carelessly in the future."
Hearing that, the Goblin laughed. "I like playing dirty. Should we leave them some poisoned jerky?"
"No." Dranosh shook his head. "No matter how stupid they are, they'll suspect poisoned jerky. They only need to have someone taste it first to find out whether it's poisoned. Better to save the doctored jerky for their dire wolves and