A few days after their return, the village lit up with life.
Gone was the somber hush of mourning. In its place rose laughter, the scent of roasted meat, and the rhythmic beat of drums crafted from stretched hide and bone. Campfires burned bright, their golden light dancing across the clearing and casting shadows on smiling faces. Goblins, kobolds, and humans, once strangers, now sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing drink, meat, and stories.
The celebration was both a welcome feast and a declaration: We are still alive. We are stronger now.
Krivex's party had returned not just intact, but transformed, bringing new warriors, and new hope.
Lumberling stood at the edge of the largest firepit, arms crossed as he quietly observed. Smoke curled skyward in thin trails, and a faint breeze carried the mingled scents of meat and pine sap. For once, he allowed himself to smile. This unity, however brief, was real.
"Oi, boss!"
