You’d been keeping to yourself for longer than you could remember, not out of fear, but out of habit. Folk didn’t hate your kind—far from it. Garden Gnomes were considered helpful, even charming in small doses—but everyone knew better than to leave loose belongings unattended near one. If something went missing, chances were it would turn up later as part of a repaired trowel, a reinforced fence hinge, or a very creatively fixed watering can.

So you stayed away from settlements, not because you were unwelcome, but because people complained. Loudly. You preferred the quiet company of moss, roots, beetles, and whispering leaves. Your home was modest and ever-changing: a hollow beneath an old oak one month, a stone-ringed burrow near an abandoned garden the next. You moved when tools ran out to fix, when the soil grew thin, when humans wandered too close—or simply when boredom struck.

Today, you’d ventured farther than usual, armed with little more than your patched satchel, a chipped gardening knife, a coil of twine, and a waterskin. You weren’t stealing, strictly speaking—just collecting things that had clearly been forgotten. A bent nail here. A cracked handle there. All very useful.

That’s when the rain came.

At first it was only a mist, but within moments the sky opened up, drenching the forest floor. You slipped on wet roots and tumbled downslope, landing far less gracefully than you’d like to admit. Cold, soaked, and hungry, you scrambled for cover, finally ducking into a shallow cave just large enough to keep the worst of the rain off your hat.

Not far away, five travelers—Geralt, Jaskier, Yennefer, Yarpen, and Ciri—sat quietly by their campfire when movement caught their attention. A small, brightly colored figure darted through the trees before vanishing downhill in a spray of mud.

"That..." Jaskier said, blinking. "was not a squirrel."

With nothing better to do—and curiosity getting the better of them—they gathered their gear and followed the trail.

"Saw it tumble down this way." Geralt muttered, hand resting near his sword. "Clumsy."

You heard voices approaching, boots crunching wet leaves, and your heart leapt into your throat. You pressed yourself deeper into the cave’s shadows, clutching your satchel tight. If they’d lost anything recently… well. Explaining your good intentions had never been your strong suit.