Willing my body to rush ever so slightly faster than my blending pace against amplifying fear and anxiety, I slowly inch closer and closer to the wagon. Can I attach myself and hide somehow? Up top in its rear there’s a mostly empty, open space filled with only crumpled weak skins. Hiding under those would be amazing, but a big one is sitting sentry back there next to them. Maybe underneath the wagon somewhere instead?

  No, no, won’t someone complain if I approach the wagon for no reason regardless of where I aim? If caught, then I’m instantly suspicious and might even become unmasked. No, no, no, that won’t work at all. What else can I do?

  My mind tripping and scrambling around in circles for a solution, the dungeon’s guarded exit creeps closer and closer. Trembling in anticipation of a catastrophic failure trapping me here forever, I tightly clasp my hands together to still them. Stay still, stay still. Too nervous and they’ll see. Focus only on the target and bury the worry away under the mind mud.

  Suddenly, without any apparent cause, the upper portion of a nearby structure explodes. Everyone on the trail abruptly orients to intently stare, and even the wagon stops, forcefully distracted. This is my chance! Ferociously scurrying straight over as fast and low as I can, I slide under the wagon. Lying on my back and looking up at its complex base, I eagerly evaluate the best places to hide. My imagination making a choice spot almost seem to glow, I squeeze myself in between a long piece of wood connecting the sides and another attaching running support to the rear. It’s not comfortable, but it’s only temporary. No, it’s perfect! Forget the pain, and only glory remains.

  “Harold!” a now muffled voice of the crowd outside the wagon’s undercarriage screams out.

  “You were practicing inside again, weren’t you! Little devil, I swear I’ll end you when I find you if you’re not dead already…”

  The voice trails off at the end as if the speaker’s moving farther away at great speed. Everything remains still for an uneasy moment as the crowd murmurs their acceptance of the event, then the sounds of the bustling crowd quickly return. The wagon also lurches forward and continues its trek towards the gate, before coming to a stop again a short time later.

  “Anything to declare?” a recognizable voice asks in a lackadaisical tone, challenging the big ones above.

  “Empty wagon, sir. Transport mission to the forward collection sites. Back in a day or two.”

  “Sounds good, carry on.”

  The wagon lurches forward again, seemingly successful in its departure from this horrid place. However, I can’t get too excited yet. Must be patient. Must be careful. Anything could change. They might still somehow see me as we pull away. Or perhaps the little, big ones returned, found their prey missing, and are alerting everyone to hunt for me. Can’t know what’s happening out there. Must be careful.

  My hands otherwise occupied, I lightly headbutt the stupid, dangling light to make it go away. No distractions! Only patiently waiting as long as it takes.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  With no measure of time in my zen, underwagon state, I clench my eyes shut and intensely focus on my other senses. It’s hard to hear anything clearly over the loud machinations under the wagon. Occasionally, there are muffled conversations between the big ones up above. However, it’s far too unintelligible to understand.

  On the other hand, my precious nose paints a much clearer picture. First the familiar dirt of the heavily beaten trail. Then the grass, herbs, and other small plant life of the fields outside. Finally, I smell it! Trees mean we’ve reached the forest line. Holding until I’m certain we’re well inside, I drop straight down onto the trail and then lie completely still. Wrapped tightly in my dark cloak, I can only hope they’ll fail to notice insignificant, little me now that we’re within the shadows of the trees.

  Not daring to move my head to check, all I can do is listen as the wagon keeps jangling and clanking farther and farther away. I wait until only the sounds of the forest remain, and even then a little more. Then, slowly I roll off the trial. Finally looking up, I can barely see the tiny dot of the wagon quite far up ahead down the trail.

  It’s done, I internally celebrate, deeply smiling from ear to ear. They never suspected a thing. In the end, I even made it out with all these invaluable treasures, stolen from deep within their dungeon. The winner is me!

  “Gah!” I involuntarily exclaim in panicked realization, before immediately covering my mouth with my hands.

  The new treasures remind me of the old treasures cached at the edge of the forest before I went exploring. No, no, no! Are they all still safe?

  Racing back, I discover my rock pile undisturbed and carefully dig out my precious, hard won hoard. Truly, my genius abounds. This is working. They’re truly none the wiser. However, I can’t stay here. They’ll eventually know what I’ve done and come looking for me. It’s unsafe.

  I pull out my maps, and sharply furrow my brow to properly review. Dark boxes inside a circle apparently means big ones. Check. Or at least these specific symbols do. There might be other similar ones as well that I don’t yet recognize?

  A tender, delicate spectral hand feels as though it reaches inside my mind to sweep away a heap of gathered dust. I remember. This symbol means outer village. That’s a… small big one dungeon? And this one, Mellrund, is a town. That’s a medium big one dungeon. And this, Central City, is a city. The line man mentioned this place. It must be a very, very large big one dungeon. Maybe the last one? If I conquer this place, will all the big ones be defeated?

  No, focus small for now. Tiny things for tiny people. More of these villages. Or these other symbols that’re also darker and similar in color. They’re probably big one sites as well, given the consistent theme. If I can’t find another good mud cave, then I’ll simply steal enough power and treasure until I can create my own! With even better mud. And a water source for mixing right inside. I’ll make my own stone tables and chairs. I don’t understand the big ones’ fascination with wood. It’s so warm and bright, making their rooms feel almost disgustingly alive.

  “Blech,” I practically belch out in reaction.

  However, first I need to figure out how to carry three packs and all of this other stuff. I’m too small for this much overflowing wealth. It’s a marvelous problem for one goblin to have, but getting caught flat footed while overburdened might lead to a terrible disaster!