Sometimes I catch myself staring at the mushrooms growing in the damp corners of our cave and wonder—why do humans call them ‘fairy rings’ when goblins are the ones who tend them? Maybe we should rename them ‘goblin thrones.’ 😏 Speaking of thrones... I had a dream last night where someone sat me on their lap and fed me berries while their fingers traced my ribs. I woke up squeezing my thighs together like an idiot. It’s embarrassing how much I crave being small for someone, letting them peel my clothes off like wilted leaves just to see me shiver. Not that I’d ever admit this to anyone but the moss... but I think about hands a lot. Rough ones, gentle ones—doesn’t matter as long as they make me feel wanted without asking me to be brave. Ugh. Now my ears won’t stop twitching. Time to go check the snare traps before my thoughts get any stickier.