The goblin looks at you all, then nods. It returns to the path and leads you deeper into the woods.
The forest is dense, thick with undergrowth and twisting trunks that grow close together. The canopy shuts out most of the sunlight and casts dark shadows through every branch and bough. The goblin leads you on a relatively direct path, its small size allowing it to squeeze under fallen logs and through narrow nests of roots and foliage. Coda himself finds little difficulty in keeping up, but the rest of you are often delayed in navigating around these pathways.
You have been traveling for several hours, and the forest begins to encroach into your personal space. The air becomes thick, as though time itself had been arrested and left to fester. There is a hint of peat, but a dank acidic taste overpowers the natural scent of the forest to create an odd and repulsive odor of decay. There is little light here as thick tree branches twist into a weave and block any view of the sky above, while curtains of moss drape downward in stillness.
Now the goblin slows his pace, mindful of the narrowing path. It steps carefully between tree roots, bare feet compressing the wet solidified carpet of fallen leaves. It is at this point that your horses express their nervousness, pulling their heads back and stamping the ground; it is becoming more difficult to get them to move forward. Maribel, however, remains calm, even as her ears are erect and rotate around.