The captain of the Hobgoblins, the only one remaining alive, dashes off into the woods, and Hooflepoof gives chase. Before long, he catches the captain and wrestles him to the ground.

"Why did you attack the caravan?" asks Hooflepoof.

"Because... because... we were hungry," answers the hobgoblin captain. "Did you see what we have to eat?"

"Well, don't you have some of this jerky, like your friends have?"

"Sure, we do. It will keep you alive for a week, but did you try it?"

"Why, is it unhealthy?"

"No, it's very healthy, apparently ideal for sustenance. Just not very good. Here, try it" - and he hands a stick of the jerky to Hooflepoof. Hooflepoof takes a smell of it, and it smells like rocks, with just a hint of wet dog fur.

"You eat it first," says Hooflepoof.

"Sure," says the Hobgoblin, tearing off a piece, taking a small bite and wincing a little, and then offering it back to Hooflepoof, who still declines.

"Do you know anything about the Dragon Cult?"

"We Urshani hobgoblins mostly keep to ourselves."

"Tell me or I'll kill you!" threatens Hooflepoof.

"I swear, I don't know anything! My tribe lives deep in the woods, we only come out here to hunt horses on the Trade Way."

Hooflepoof realizes that the hobgoblin probably doesn't know anything. He doesn't seem very bright. "Do you have anything valuable?" he asks.

"Well it depends on what is valuable to you. I have something interesting. If I give it to you, will you let me go?"

Hooflepoof answers with a grunt that says he may or may not, but the hobgoblin is in a weak negotiating position, so he fumbles around in his pocket, and pulls out a shiny brass ink pen. He looks at it admiringly, like he doesn't want to part with it. "I don't know what it is," he says, "I just found it in the road."

"It's a writing tool," says Hooflepoof, but the hobgoblin just stares at him blankly. He is probably illiterate, so this means nothing to him. Hooflepoof takes the pen and is prepared to let the hobgoblin go, when he notices that he keeps looking nervously, furtively, up into the sky.

"What are you looking at?" asks Hooflepoof.

The goblin indicates the sky, as if the answer should be obvious from observation. Hooflepoof looks up carefully (not to be fooled by a misdirection), and sees two hawks circling above. "What, those hawks?"

"They aren't hawks," says the hobgoblin. "They are perytons, looking for fresh hearts. There is something in the heart, a vitamin or something, that they need before they can lay their eggs. They are vicious."

"Are they going to attack us?"

"It looks like they are preparing to attack something. They've been getting closer and closer. That's why we were hiding. We certainly could have taken down that noble and his men and dragged off the horse, but we didn't want to tangle with the perytons."

"All right. You can go. Get out of here before I change my mind."

"Thank you, kind sir," says the hobgoblin, "you are a gallant man. Enjoy the thing." He scampers off into the woods.

Hooflepoof jogs back to the group and points out the perytons, circling ever closer.

Meanwhile, the adventurers notice some yelling inside their cart. It sounds like some sort of argument. Elbolin creeps closer and listens. It is Noohar, who though he remains eloquent, sounds very angry. The conversation is with his newly hired guards. Elbolin can't quite make out everything, but it sounds like he is calling them "fakes". "You're fired," he hears, along with a thin clatter as a handful of weapons, very shiny swords and shields, are thrown from the back of the cart, landing in the road.