The smoke was coming from a bonfire, where a horse's leg was roasting. We saw no cooks, but judging by the foo

The smoke was coming from a bonfire, where a horse's leg was roasting. We saw no cooks, but judging by the footprints and the high-pitched shrieks in the distant hills, the camp must have formerly belonged to goblins. They must have fled after hearing our shouts, leaving behind everything they'd scavenged from the body of the deceased (including a hefty coin pouch — alas, in this backwater, coin proved of little use). Deciding not to pursue the goblins, we turned our attention to the body.