The goblins were laughing in their hideous manner as they surrounded the girl. She pulled the elvish cloak tightly around her, but even its elusive magics were too little and too late to avoid this confrontation now. One of the goblins raised an eyebrow and said something to his fellows in their foul speech, to which they all chuckled menacingly. Given the mien of their looks and smiles, it wasn’t all that difficult to guess at their intent.

 

But Amaranth just stood there, no real fear on her face, in fact, she was kind of glad for this opportunity. For she had wanted to test out the wonderful new wand that she had picked up from the warlock’s spell-chamber after they had managed to seal him up in one of his own soul-gems. Eadwyn had suggested that some of the faint runes carved onto the slender rowan branch were from the school of transmutation, likely giving it the power to change the form of whatever it was used upon. A ’polymorph wand’ he called it. Now seemed as good of a time as any to try it out.

The movement of her hand reaching into her cloak startled her assailants, no doubt expecting her to pull out a dagger or some other weapon. But when she withdrew the long twig, a few laughed openly. It wasn’t until she pointed it at a goblin directly in front of her that the laughing stopped. For after a moment of concentration, the foul creature disappeared with a ‘pop’ and in a puff of smoke. In its place was a rather startled little bunny suspended for a second in midair before flopping to the ground and squeaking angrily. The laughter died then, as did all the smiles, all but one that is. One by one the goblins popped out of existence, to be replaced by bunnies that could do little more than hop around and look cute.

***

Dvalin ran as fast as his short little legs could carry him, for it was not just his wounded pride at letting the goblins escape that worried him, but the fact that they were heading directly towards their camp, and a sleeping Amaranth. The grizzled dwarvish warrior silently swore that he would never forgive himself if even a single hair on her head were harmed. So fierce and frantic was his charge that even the ranger Cormac found it difficult to keep pace. Marvelous sprinters indeed, he thought to himself. As the dwarf neared the enclosed glen that held the camp, he let out a mighty roar, rushing up a large rock and leaping into the clearing, his ancestral battleaxe gleaming with the anticipation of goblin heart-wine.

But his rising battle-rage was cut short by what he saw. He had tried to steel himself up for any number of possible horrors at the camp, but the scene that lay before him now defied all reason. For here was Amaranth, sitting cross-legged before the ring of the campfire, surrounded by bunnies, with one sitting in her lap, held by the irresistible force of a gentle scratching behind the ears. The girl seemed more startled by the dwarf then from anything he had expected to find here.

“Whar be they!? Ay nooe ay saw them a coomin’ thees way!” The dwarf looks frantically to the left and right, ‘Blood Swan’ howling with thirst as it slices the air in enraged impotence.

Cormac, who arrived at the camp right after the dwarf picks up one of the discarded goblin weapons. He looks at Amaranth with a questioning eye.

“There’s no goblins here…anymore. Just a whole bunch of cute lil’ bunny wabbits. Isn’t that right, Sir Fluffkins?” She says in a childish manner as she turns the rabbit she is holding over on its back and tickles its belly.

“Wha?!” Dvalin points to the rabbits. “Ye tarn’d tham inta…critters?” The dwarf can barely contain his amazement.

“They’re so much more pleasant now, don’t you think?” Amaranth replies.

“Do they…do they stay rabbeets ee’n afta’ ye keel ‘em?” Questions the dwarf.

“I…I don’t know.” Answers the girl, an expression of concern darkening her brow. “Why?”

“Ay be thin’kin o’ stoo! Rabbeet stoo!” Says the dwarf, a hungry sparkle lighting his eyes as he licks his lips.

At this the girl leaps up, dropping the startled bunny and shrieks “EWWW!” as she runs from the camp. Dvalin rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he looks to Cormac. “Ay juus’ be thin’kin we all be getting’ a wee bit tired o’ tack bread an’ jerky is all.”

The ranger just shrugs, not really sure what to say, or even think at this bizarre turn of events.

“Th’ wee lass’ll be a’changin ‘er toon when she smells them a cookin’!” Says the dwarf, taking aim at one of the hopping bunnies. He slams the Blood Swan down directly upon its back. The rabbit shrieks, its death-cries morphing into that of a goblin’s as it returns to its natural form in death. The axe rings in ecstasy at the return of its promised prey.

“Ah, boo!” Spits out the angry dwarf. “Alooks’ like jerky again fer dinner.” He says as he plants the axe into another rabbit.

S.E.F.A.