Chapter 03 A Garden of Veggies

Within the mess, there were personal items that hinted at the lives lost here. A child's doll, its face dirty and one eye missing lay beside a torn backpack. A journal, its pages splattered with blood, provided a heartbreaking glimpse into the final moments of the adventurers. Torn maps and scattered parchments suggested they had been on a quest, now tragically cut short.

As they carefully sifted through the remnants, Grub and Grill's eyes widened with both fear and excitement. They knew that whatever had caused this massacre could still be nearby, but the supplies left behind were too valuable to ignore. They moved quickly, gathering what they could carry - dried meats, utensils, cooking pots, and blankets.

Their nerves were on edge, every rustle of the leaves making them jump. They didn't speak much, their focus on the task at hand and the looming threat that hung over them. With their arms loaded with the supplies, they scuttle back to the cave, their minds racing with the gruesome scene they had just witnessed and the need to warn the others. 

Upon returning, they recounted their harrowing discovery, laying out the salvaged items. The supplies were meager but vital for our continued survival. The blood-stained items served as a reminder of the dangers lurking in the forest, a warning that our newfound home was far from safe. We knew that we would need to remain vigilant and cautious, for the forest held secrets and perils that could claim us just as easily.

For the next few days, fear kept our scrawny goblin feet firmly planted within the safety of our cave. The memory of the blood-soaked ground and the scattered remains of the adventurers haunted us. We huddled together in our cramped underground sanctuary, the flickering light of the glow-mushroom casting long, eerie shadows on the dirt walls.

During this time of self-imposed confinement, we focused on teaching the hatchlings everything we knew about survival. Our small cavern echoed with whispered lessons and hushed instructions. The hatchlings, wide-eyed and eager to learn, absorbed every piece of wisdom we could offer.

The hatchlings were growing stronger and more resilient with each passing day. The harshness of our new life had tempered them, and they were eager to learn. With the extra time on our hands, we took it upon ourselves to teach them everything we knew.

We taught them the importance of stealth and silence. We showed them how to move quietly through the forest, avoiding detection by predators and enemies alike. Our lessons were punctuated with stories of our past escapes and narrow misses, providing both education and entertainment.

Grub and Grill, our seasoned scavengers, taught the hatchlings how to find food and supplies in the most unlikely places. They demonstrated how to identify edible plants.

"See this plant?" Grub pointed to a small, unassuming green sprout.

 "This one’s safe to eat. But this one," he gestured to a nearly identical plant, "will make your belly hurt for days. Always look for the tiny red dots on the leaves. That's how you tell."

 The hatchlings watched with wide eyes as they learned to make use of every resource the open plains and the forest had to offer. We also taught them how to create shelter and fortify our living space. Under our guidance, the hatchlings helped dig out additional tiny rooms in the cave and reinforced the walls with sticks and mud. They learned to create small, hidden caches for food and water, ensuring that we always had reserves in case of an emergency.

As we worked together, the bond between us grew stronger. The hatchlings looked up to us with admiration and trust, and we took our roles as their protectors and teachers seriously. We knew that the skills we were passing on would be crucial for their survival in the harsh world outside our hidden sanctuary.

A few days later, the reality of our dwindling food supplies hit us hard. Our stomachs growled incessantly, and the once hopeful atmosphere began to fill with worry. We gathered in our now cozy, cramped, cavern to discuss our next steps. The dim light from the glowing mushroom flickered, casting long shadows on the dirt walls as we debated our options.

"Food problem getting worse, gobbie friends," Grub muttered, his voice heavy with concern. 

"We need to find more soon. But the forest is not safe, the monster that was mighty enough to best the adventurers might be still around and we can't risk going out there, not yet. We need to be careful and wait a bit longer. A few more days."

I nodded. 

"Grub is right, we can't go on like this. We can't go to the forest, not now, not when we have good things going for us. But yes, food is almost out, and going near the forest is not safe. So, we need a steady food supply. A garden of veggies, maybe?"

Grill, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, suddenly perked up.

 "I have something," he said, pulling out a small, worn pouch.

 "Seeds and a few potatoes with sprouts. I snatched these during the mess when the adventurers attacked the breeding farm. I knew it would be of use. It is not much but it will be enough to start a small yield."

The pouch was small, but its contents were precious - a variety of seeds, our hope for a sustainable food supply. We huddled around Grill, eyes wide with hope and curiosity.

"We need to find a good spot to plant them," I said, my voice filled with optimism. 

"Somewhere hidden and safe but close enough to tend to it."

After a long discussion, we decided to search for a well-hidden patch of land among the tall grass near our cave. We needed a place that wouldn't be easily spotted by roaming predators.

The next morning, we set out to find the perfect spot. Our ragtag group moved cautiously around our cave, eyes peeled for any signs of danger. It wasn't long before we stumbled upon a tiny patch of soft, wet soil, well-concealed by tall grass and dense foliage. It was perfect.

With a sense of hope, we began to work. Using makeshift tools, we tilled the soil, our hands blistering and muscles aching from the effort. The hatchlings, despite their small size, were eager to help. They scampered around, their tiny hands clutching seeds and patting down the dirt.

"This spot good," Grub grunted as he dug a small hole with his hands. 

"Plants will be safe here. Well hidden and has a lot of light. Veggies will grow big and nice, they will, yes, they will."

Grill helped cover the seeds with soil, ensuring they were well planted. The hatchlings, with their wide-eyed innocence, eagerly patted down the dirt, their small hands working tirelessly.

"Grow strong, little seeds. We need you," one of the hatchlings murmured, his voice filled with hope. 

 We tended to our hidden garden, watering the plants with collected water and protecting them from pests. The hatchlings took turns keeping watch, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. The soil was rich with mana making everything grow very fast and on the next day, tiny green shoots emerged from the soil filling us with a renewed sense of hope.

With our garden established, we quickly realized that we needed a reliable source of water. The stream water we had been collecting in our ear buckets and the water skin was barely enough to sustain us, let alone our growing plants, also it was a dangerous trip back and forth. We needed something more substantial.

Grill and I put our heads together and decided to dig a hole deep enough to catch and hold rainwater. It was a grueling task, but we knew it was essential for our survival. We chose a spot near our hidden garden, hoping to make it easier to water our crops.

"We need something to line the hole," Grill said, pausing to catch his breath as he wiped sweat from his brow.

Wiggly, one of the more resourceful hatchlings, piped up. 

"I saw a big, sturdy leaf nearby. Maybe it can help."

Snuggle scampered off with Wiggly to find the leaf. They returned triumphantly, carrying a large, broad leaf that looked perfect for our needs. Together, we carefully lined the hole with the leaf, creating a makeshift rain collector.

"This will work, right, Hermit?" Grill asked, his voice tinged with both hope and exhaustion.

"It has to. We can't survive without water."

As the days went by, our little rain collector began to fill up. The first time it rained, we watched with bated breath as the water slowly gathered in our makeshift reservoir. It wasn't much, but it was enough to quench our thirst and nourish our plants.

"This is good," Grub said, nodding approvingly as he sipped from the collected rainwater.

 "We can make this work."

The hatchlings took turns keeping an eye on the rain collector, ensuring it stayed clean and free from debris. It became a daily ritual, a task that brought a sense of purpose and unity to our small group.

Our days were filled with hard work and vigilance. We tended to our garden, making sure the plants were growing strong. The hatchlings, with their boundless energy, eagerly helped with watering and weeding. Despite their small size, their contributions were invaluable.

On the next evening, as we gathered around our tiny mud table in our cave, Grub spoke up.

 "We're doing good, everyone. This water source will keep us going. But we need to stay alert. The forest and the open plains are full of dangers, and we can't let our guard down."

I nodded in agreement.

 "Grub's right. We've come a long way, but we have to stay strong. We can't afford to make any mistakes."