Hobgoblin and the Seven Stinkers of Rancidia. Kyle Sullivan

the flies flinched at the sound of a match striking to life. Temporarily blinded, their eyes adjusted to find the Huntress staring at them, holding her torch high.

      “I was sent here by Fiddlefart to give you the scrubbing of a lifetime,” she said.

      36

      Hobgoblin shut his eyes tight. He slowly reached up to pet his flies one last time. Buzzing sorrowfully, the flies hugged his fingers.

      The Huntress lowered the torch. “But I’m not going to do it,” she said.

      Hobgoblin gasped and stared directly into the squirrel’s dark brown eyes. To his surprise, he saw something close to kindness.

      37

      CHAPTER 4

      THE STINKY SITUATION

      obgoblin blinked his eyes, caught his breath, and then farted loudly for several seconds. He immediately felt much better. The flies resumed buzzing nervous loops around his head.

      “You’re not going to scrub me?” he asked.

      “No, I’m not,” she said.

      “But you work for Fiddlefart?”

      “Yes,” she said, eyes steady. “I apologize for the scare, but I had to act like I was really going to scrub you in case Fiddlefart’s spies were watching.

      38

      Since no Rancidian would follow us behind Fresh Falls, it’s only now that we’re safe to talk.”

      “But you’re not going to scrub me?” Hobgoblin asked again, a little confused.

      “I promise I’m not going to scrub you,” said the Huntress. Grimacing, she looked down at the royal badge pinned to her cloak. “Fiddlefart’s cruelty and selfishness disgust me, but I’ve held my nose and played the role of loyal servant. I have worked hard to earn his trust.”

      The Huntress sat down on a wet, algae-covered rock. Hobgoblin sat down beside her.

      “When I was a child, I had an experience that inspired me to devote the rest of my life to helping stinky creatures in danger,” she said. “As soon as I heard that Fiddlefart had taken over Rancidia, I knew I had to help. For many years now, I have collected information, watched Fiddlefart for weaknesses, and waited for the right time to overthrow him and restore the Rancidian democracy. I believe that time is nearing, Hobgoblin.”

      Hobgoblin’s eyes sparkled with admiration for the mysterious squirrel. From what the warthog had told him about Fiddlefart, it would take a lot

      39

      of guts to stand up to someone so mean and cruel.

      “What happened when you were a child?” asked Hobgoblin.

      A shadow passed behind the Huntress’s masked eyes.

      “That doesn’t matter,” she said. “What matters is that you’re in danger—Fiddlefart wants you scrubbed. You’re the Grossest Smelling in the Land, and that threatens him. He’s very self-centered. He already has all the power and wealth, now his only motivation is to be the stinkiest one of all. He’ll stop at nothing to make that happen.”

      “I don’t understand,” said Hobgoblin. “The Mucklands aren’t even part of Rancidia. All I do is fart around my farm and mind my own business. I’ve ignored this ogre stuff so the flies and I could stay out of it.”

      “Even though Fiddlefart is bringing the battle to you, the truth is, you’ve always been involved,” said the Huntress. “You may not be a Rancidian, but Fiddlefart’s cruelty is your business. Anytime a creature is treated unjustly—no matter who they are or where they’re from—it’s everyone’s business.”

      Hobgoblin rubbed his temples. This was a lot to take in. “A warthog has told me stories of Fiddlefart.

      40

      I tried to convince myself he was making it up. Even when he stopped delivering gas, I pretended it had nothing to do with the ogre king…”

      Hobgoblin trailed off. The Huntress kept her masked eyes fixed firmly on him. Hobgoblin looked away. Then, with a wince, he asked: “Is it really that bad in Rancidia?”

      “Yes, Hobgoblin,” she said. “Everything you’ve heard is true. Fiddlefart has destroyed a beauti-ful democracy. That reality doesn’t change, even when you stick your head in the muck and ignore it. Wishing it isn’t real doesn’t make it go away—it just means you’ll be next on his scrub list. And guess what? You’re next.”

      “But I’m just a bean farmer,” Hobgoblin