Gnomes!

Their noses ranged from potato-shaped to hawkish. A bubbling stew file with everything from tufts of grass to bird eggs danced in a bronze pot. Conversation was light: the gnomes had long ago tired of using their own games against one-another.

Slow-Turtle pulled out a copper pipe and began to play a tired, night-time melody. Beyond the ring of wagons, yellow glowing eyes watched -- hundreds of them -- but far too frightened by the flickering camp.

Nevertheless, High-Falcon and Lazy-Cat had their silver-tipped bolts at the ready. Simple lockbows were sufficient: one quick flick of the wrist and the string would snap the tips almost as fast as the wind could ever blow. Lazy-Cat sang to herself and her enchanted weapons.

Wild-Goose, snoring loudly through his pear-shaped nose, was armed with a steel knife; every other gnome (twelve in all) had but an iron dagger. Their names were: Wind-Biter, the illusionist; Rough-Weasel, the master of traps; Cold-Snake, the healer; Stomping Beaver, the chef; Angry-Goat, the acrobat; Pleased-to-Meetcha, the clown; Singing-Fire, the priest, and Guppy, the wizard.

They had set up camp in a small clearing just off the road. The ash and pine filled the air. The bubbling of the creek in the gulch below could still be heard beneath the moon and stars.

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