Caravan Ride (pt 2)

 It took another day and a half to each their first stop. Clair had spent the rest of the day and next morning laying on the waggon floor, grumbling as both Mumps and Measles loomed over her, the herbs clearly helping the later with her motion sickness. It was only around noon on the second day that she had the strength and coordination to stand on her own, though she shot out a hand to grab a crate as the waggon wheels hit a large stone. She quickly lowered herself onto the bench on the side of the waggon's interior, where some of the others sat, not at all feeling motion sick but equally lacking the necessary sea legs to stay standing as the caravan travelled down the beaten dirt path.

Sandra handed her a waterskin, which Clair gratefully thanked her for before enjoying the rest of the contents. She pushed over a crate in front of Clair and set down beside her, with Measles on the other side and Mumps further down the bench. Sandra pulled out a long rolled up paper and rolled it out on the crate. Her finger traced along a marked path until it rested at a point.

“See, we're about here, right by 'Goblin Commune 38',” Sandra explained, indicating its location on the map for Clair. “But the residents-”

“The goblins,” Gibbon cut her off with a grimace.

“Right, the goblin residents,” she continued as if the correction held no meaning, “call it 'Goblin Town'.”

“So then why isn't it labelled as that on the map?” Measles asked, her little claws pulling Sandra's hand back so she could see it better.

“...Most communes are called 'Goblin Town',” Gibbon grumbled, giving an exasperated sigh.

While he didn't seem to pay the question any mind, Clair noticed Sandra suddenly raise an eyebrow at Measles then Clair, though it lowered just as quickly. Measles, you're blowing your own cover story! Clair thought with a panicked grimace, frantically debating if she should try to cover. She opened her mouth to speak but realized trying to explain anything would likely only reveal more ignorance. It's a wonder she didn't ask Measles or I where we were from, exactly, she thought, certain that it would have outed them. A quick, nervous glance from Mumps only confirmed her worry. While a loose story like that would work on a hermit like Charlotte, travelling merchants are a whole other beast... a dangerous one.

Sandra silently looked back down at the map, fortunately for trio. “Well, we should be seeing residents any moment now... oh!” she exclaimed, pointing out the back of the waggon. Clair leaned forward, looking past her and out of the waggon.

A small goblin, wearing a plain white sundress down to her knees, was chasing the waggon. She, as Clair assumed from the clothing, was clearly on the younger side; certainly younger than Measles or Mumps. While Clair saw her third goblin at the Half-Empty Cup, he looked much older and wrinkly, ears drooping with age and skin darkened to a deeper shade of green. This girl though bore a much closer resemblance to the twins, youthful and perky, her skin a fair bit lighter than theirs. She appeared to be saying something but Clair could barely hear the words, much less make them out, but the guttural calls didn't sound like her language. She could tell though from the smiling and enthusiastic waving that the goblin youth with clearly excited, even as she stopping running and just watched them drive further in.

“Wow, she looks about your guys' age,” Clair absently commented as the girl darted back into the forest along the road.

“Please, she looked only three or four years old,” Measles scoffed, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“And she spoke like one, too,” Mumps tacked on, though Clair couldn't help but wonder if his Goblin vocabulary and grammar were any better.

“Yes, you could tell as her skin is a lighter green, even though goblins reach full size around two years of age,” the fourth voice added.

The three looked up slowly to meet Sandra's eyes, silently realizing that, if she hadn't known before, their story was clearly exposed as a lie now with Clair's comment. The young woman furrowed her brow, giving a crooked smile that conveyed both sympathy and confusion, along with a good dose of mistrust.

“W-Wait, Sandra,” Clair spoke up in a rushed whisper, “we can expla-”

“Later,” Sandra quickly cut them off, glancing over to Gibbon as he dug through some crates, not paying attention to their conversation. “Everyone has their stories.” She visibly bit her lip, and Clair felt a pang of remorse for lying to her, even if she hadn't started the tall tale.

“Sandra, where's the Deverian honey?” Gibbon asked, shifting around clinking bottles in the crate.

“Archie has it in the middle waggon,” she responded, still not taking her eyes off of Clair, Measles, and Mumps. “I'm sure he's already getting ready for... now,” she said as the waggon slowed to a stop, soon followed by a sigh from Measles. “Well, we're here. Time to put you to work,” Sandra said with a nod, standing up. “You're good to walk? Both of you?” she asked, looking between the other two girls as Mumps already was circling around to Gibbon.

“Uh, yeah, pretty sure.” Clair nodded as she stood from the, feeling stronger now than earlier. I'm sure I can lift a few boxes.

Measles nodded too. “Of course! ...Now that we're not moving.” She spat out the bundle of herbs with a disgusted look and turned away, though Clair saw her tuck them into one of the cloak's inner pockets.

“Perfect,” Sandra said with smile. “Hop on down then and we'll pass you stuff to take to Barthan... actually, just set them right outside here,” she instructed, seemingly changing her mind and patting the right side of the covered waggon.

The girls nodded, following the order and getting off. Measles, who stood at barely the height of the waggon's floor, took a step in front of Clair. She eagerly took the first small barrel, setting it down, and then carrying it over to the side.

Clair stepped up as Sandra quickly returned with a crate, smaller than the first package, and carefully passed it to Clair. “Easy now,” she said as Clair's hands wrapped around it. Clair nodded confidently, holding the package with a secure and steady grip as Sandra let go. She nearly fell over, suddenly tipping forward from the weight. “Woah!” Sandra exclaimed as her hands shot out and steadied Clair, holding the package up a bit. “...Sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine,” Clair grumbled with a grimace as she pulled back, clutching the crate closer to herself and her centre of gravity. She struggled but managed to not trip as she felt her face heating up slightly. She quickly turned with the package and barely avoided bumping into Measles as she rounded the corner, forcing the goblin to nimbly step out of the way.

She came to a clearing along the side of the caravan, the dirt pounded into the ground like it was along the road they travelled. She set down the crate and looked around, seeing an assortment of crates and barrels already piling up as a few large men where unloading the other two waggons. She turned and saw a small hill just beyond the clearing, blocking the rest of clearing beyond from view. Setting down the crate, she let out a small grunt, nearly dropping it as her arms almost gave out for a second while lowering.

As she came back, rounding the corner widely enough to give Measles room as she scurried around with an even larger crate, she clenched her fists in anticipation. “Ok, Sandra, I can take the next one-oh, Mumps,” she corrected herself, seeing only the other goblin waiting there with a normal sized barrel. “Here, I'll take that.”

“No, please wait a moment, miss Clair.” He glanced around the back of the waggon from side to side as if looking for someone. “It's a bit too heavy, so just wait.”

Clair felt her frustration fester, bubbling up as he said those words. “I told you, I've got it,” she grunted with annoyance, reaching out and wrapping her arms around the base of the barrel, just failing to link her hands together.

“Woah, no!” Mumps loudly objected, eyes wide with panic. He grabbed on and started pulling back against Clair. “You can't take this alone, it's too big!”

Clair glared angrily at him, tugging hard on the barrel. She overpowered him, pulling the barrel to the edge. She grin with a satisfied smirk as Mumps failed to hold on. Her smile immediately vanished however as she felt the liquid inside the full barrel slosh and the weight of it suddenly press down on her, easily about to crush her.

A large hand suddenly reached over her, grabbing the barrel from the top and holding it against the edge of the waggon before slowly pushing it back up.

“Do you always act so accident prone?” came the familiar grumble of Gibbon's voice.

Clair whirled around, flustered as she realized what she had almost caused to happen, only to be met face-to-face with a seven foot wood and stone giant. It was faceless, the head looking like a carved rock, narrow and pointed such that no human head could fit inside it. The body was a bolder, crossed with wood and metal bands, holding in place the wooden arms and legs that protruded from the misshapen torso.

“AH! What is that!?” Clair exclaimed in a panic, leaping to the side as she kept her eyes locked on it. She then noticed Gibbon standing right behind it, patting it on the head.

“...The only reason they still put up with me...” she barely heard Gibbon mutter under his breath before he cleared his throat. “Ahem~ This is Clavin,” he dryly introduced while turning to Clair, as if he hadn't just spoken aloud. “He is my golem.” He paused, waiting for some sort of reaction as Clair just stared at the golem blankly. “...I swear, you backwoods hicks,” he muttered under his breath. “It's a creature made with magic. Just a bunch of rocks and wood if it wasn't for me keeping it moving.” His voice reeked of snobbish pride, and Clair finally took her eyes off of the clearly harmless thing to just turn to him. She felt a conflict of emotions, disgust and awe pulling her both in and away from from engaging.

“...That's cute, I guess,” she finally acknowledged with a nonchalant shrug.

“C-Cute!?” Gibbon stuttered in confusion, face twisted in annoyance. “If it wasn't for Clavin, you're stupidity would have gotten you-”

“Actually,” Mumps quickly cut him off, “I was the one who passed the load to miss Clair without telling her to wait; the fault was mine.” He tipped his head humbly in apology as Clair turned to look at him, confused.

“Well... fine then.” Gibbon let out a huff as he rolled his eyes. “If you're still not well enough yet, then stand back so you at least don't hurt yourself,” he instructed Clair, feeling like a reprimand. She clenched both her fists and her jaw, teeth grinding as she fought back a snide remark. It was quickly swallowed along with her pride as she just sighed and stepped back around the waggon, where a large muscular man was directing Measles around.

“That one can go over there... and then we'll set up the drink barrels here...” he directed, mulling over a handful of papers while pointing. Measles gave a playful salute as she began pushing and pulling the crates into their place.

“Here,” Clair spoke up as she gave Measles a hand, able at least to push things around in the dirt clearing.

The man looking up from his papers, finally noticing her. “Ah, Clair; we met earlier though it was only one sided. I'm Barthan,” he introduced himself, nodding before turning back to his papers. “...And if Gibbon hasn't cleared you for work yet, don't push yourself,” he added on.

Clair felt her cheeks burn a bit as she realized what was said behind the waggon out of view was clearly heard by both him and Measles. She grimaced, keeping her head down as she pulling a crate along. She felt Measles' familiar hand gently grab at her arm, and looked over to see the shorter girl looking up with a look of genuine concern. “I'm fine,” Clair muttered, barely loud enough for Measles to hear, and went back to pulling as Measles just sighed and assisted.

“ALRIGHT! Let's get this all set up!” a new voice called. Clair looked up to see a scruffy looking white haired middle aged man approaching, Sandra following in tow. “I'm Toblen, leader of this caravan. My daughter says you'll work hard for travel and food?” he asked the girls, looking between them. He towered over them, a hard, stony face with wrinkles that looked to have be carved by chisels. His expression was neutral, as much as it appeared it could be, though the command he suddenly had left Clair swallowing nervously.

“Aye aye, sir!” Measles enthusiastically saluted him, getting a silent chuckle from Barthan behind him. Clair just nodded, at a loss for words.

“Hmm, good girls then,” Toblen chuckled, smiling widely as he lowered a heavy hand onto each of their shoulders. Even though the cloak, Clair could feel his leathery, calloused skin give the gentlest of squeezes before he removed them. “Barthan is my second in command here,” he hooked a thumb at Barthan, who gave a small redundant wave, “and my daughter Sandra can assist with anything you need to know; though I'm sure you already know that.” He gave a fatherly smile as he turned back to the young woman shadowing him. “Sandra,” he surveyed the stock already unloaded, “what else are we missing?”

“Um,” she hesitated, quickly looking over the assortment of eclectically shaped crates and barrels, “the Deveris honey is still in waggon two, and the alcohol is in waggons one and three. And...” she trailed off, looking uncertain. Toblen scrunched his brow and gave her a prodding nod. “And... we're planning to try and offload all of out sunflower seeds, so we need the last crate of that, but we need to save at least three loads of our sackcloth, so one of those should be returned to waggon one,” she finished, pointing to a pair of long, flat crates that Clair saw stacked behind a large barrel.

“Oh, shoot!” Barthan exclaimed, frantically flipping through his papers before nodding. “My apologies, boss; I'll take this back.” He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment as he tucked the now rolled up papers into his belt. He stepped over in double time and tucked the long crate under one massive arm before quickly backed up, looking to Toblen for a follow up.

The caravan head waved his hand nonchalantly, clearly paying the oversight little concern, and Barthan quickly left for the front waggon to return the extra crate. “Well done,” he said warmly, his voice proud as he clapped Sandra on the back, almost knocking her over, not that he seemed to notice.

“Th-Thank you,” she stuttered, nodding, as she quickly regained her balance.

“Well,” he turned back to Measles and Clair, “you've got things covered here with Barthan. I'll prepare for the customers to arrive. We'll be here for two nights, so you can sleep on the waggon floor if you wish,” he said, waving over his shoulder as he strolled to the front waggon.

“...two nights?” Clair asked, grimacing as she turned to Sandra, trying not to get frustrated with the clear delays to their journey.

“Goblin bartering is... a community thing. It takes a while,” Sandra half explained with an uneasy chuckle. “It'll go by quickly, don't worry. You can even just wait out the waggon if you wish,” she offered.

Clair sighed, turning around to see Gibbon following Clavin, his golem thing, adding another barrel to the growing stack of now five behind them, apparently having worked unnoticed. Then came the sounds, words, in a language that was more guttural than what she was used to. She turned to the source, the hill beyond the clearing, as over a dozen goblins crested it, muttering to each other before they started coming down. Clair's eyes widened as she saw them, all dressed in simple single cloth dresses or a shirt and shorts or pants. They varied, cluing Clair into the realization that not all goblins looked alike either, some thinner and others stouter, and a variation of a head's height difference, regardless of the greenness of their skin, which she knew indicated their age.

She stepped back in surprise, feeling overwhelmed by the prospect of being swarmed by them, in the same way she hesitated entering The Half-Empty Cup, and bumped into something hard. She turned to see it was Clavin, setting down the final barrel.

“Hey.” She bristled as she heard Gibbon seem to object, but the voice was softer than anticipated. “If you want to wait in the waggon, you're welcome to.”

Clair opened her mouth to snap back, to say that she was fine, that she wasn't tired... but she was surprised to see and hear nothing but sincere sympathy and compassion in his face and voice.

“She told us about your past... we understand,” he said softly, nodding to Measles. Clair swallowed anxiously as she just pursed her lips and nodded, quickly walking around toward the back of the caravan, a hand behind Measles, pushing her along. The shorter girl gave no resistance, following with a smirk until Clair stopped at the corner, still in view of all of the other goblins but out of earshot of anyone else.

“Is there anyone you haven't told that I'm a goblin slave?” Clair asked in annoyance.

“Human slave,” Measles clarified with a smirk.

“You know what I mean!” Clair argued in a hushed, angry whisper. “You going to tell the goblins here too? Or that human girl helping them over... over there... Measles, is it normal for a human to be in a goblin commune?” Clair asked, frustration evaporating at what she wasn't sure was possibly an unusual sight.

“What? Where?” Measles asked before spotting the girl, making the questions rhetorical.

She wore a simple dress, looking to be cut from a single cloth like half of the goblins there, which came to her knees. Her face was a bit grubby, in need of a wash. Her hair appeared naturally straight, though it was slightly matted, not unlike many of the goblins around her. Her arms were wrapped around in front of her as she carried a large box, a quarter of her size, walking slowly so as to not knock her knees into it by accident. On either side walked an adult goblin that she appeared to follow; one with a dress and the other sporting a shirt and pants. As they looked to say something to her, she nodded, before hoisting the box for a better grip and continuing their walk toward the caravan. As she approached, Clair noticed her nails were long and sharpened to a point, mimicking the naturally thick, claw-like nails of the goblins around her. She tripped, dropping the box and falling to her knees. The larger of the two goblins, the one with pants, quickly bent over her, his lips to her ear. The girl sniffled, nodded stiffly, and quickly got to her feet. She lifted the box again as she followed the two adult goblins, keeping her head down, though Clair could tell she looked scared.

“...Clair,” Measles said slowly as she half turned her head, keeping her eyes locked on the odd girl coming closer to their group. Her voice sounded stressed as if there was a lump in her throat. “I think that actually is a human slave.”