“If you aren’t spending any of that gold I smell in your pockets,” the Gnome said. “Then get lost, I don’t got all day.”
Owl and Raccoon looked at the list the Cunning-Woman gave them, and scanned the shelves.
“Hand that over. Cripes.” the Gnome snarled, snatching the list. He began filling a skin and ticking off the items with greasy pencil, grumbling and cursing as he did.
“That’s everything,” he said, “It’ll cost exactly what you’ve got. Hand the gold over and get lost, we’re closed.”
They paid and left, hoping to make it through the forest before dark.