With his substantial haul of smoked fish secured, Elos and Ivy began their journey back towards their hidden oasis. As they traversed a winding pass through the foothills, a faint, rhythmic rumble vibrated through the ground. It was a sound he hadn't heard in a very long time, a sound that stirred a strange mix of apprehension and longing within his youthful frame: the distant groan of wagon wheels. He halted, straining his ears, then cautiously moved to higher ground, Ivy following close behind, her own senses alert, her ears swiveling.

From around a bend in the dusty trail, a small caravan emerged. It was a modest group – two heavy-laden wagons, a handful of riders, and a scattering of pack animals – distinct from the grand, bustling caravans of his childhood memories. This was his first significant human contact in a very long time, and a profound, almost overwhelming wave of sensation washed over him: the distant rumble of the wagons, the mingled smells of dust, animals, and unfamiliar spices, the faint murmur of human voices – a jarring contrast to the deep quiet of the wild he had become accustomed to.

He had felt a profound fear of being recognized, of his exile status being discovered, warring with a deep-seated human longing for contact and news from the wider world. He cautiously approached, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his knife, Ivy pressed close to his side, her fur bristling slightly, a low warning rumble in her throat at the unfamiliar scent and noise. The traders, hardy, weather-beaten people, eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, noting his worn, wilderness-hardened appearance and the unusual sight of a young man accompanied by such an intelligent goat laden with packs.

"Well now, young one," a burly merchant with a scarred face grunted, assessing Elos with a keen eye. "Not often we see a face like yours so far from any settlement. What brings you out here, alone?"

Elos offered guarded answers, speaking vaguely of seeking new lands and knowledge, carefully avoiding any mention of his past or his hidden oasis. As he spoke, his eyes fell upon a young girl huddled in the back of one of the wagons, her face flushed and clammy, her breathing shallow and ragged – clearly suffering from a severe fever. His healer's instincts, sharpened by years of practice and his self-healing abilities, immediately took over. He saw her distress, a universal language.

"Your child, she is ill," Elos stated, his voice losing its cautious tone, replaced by the calm, authoritative voice of a healer. "I may be able to help."

The girl's parents, a weary-looking couple, exchanged a desperate glance. They had tried their meager remedies, but the fever had only worsened. Hope, thin and fragile, flickered in their eyes. "Please," the mother whispered, her voice hoarse with worry, "anything you can do."

Elos quickly assessed the girl. He felt the rapid pulse in her wrist, noted the dry heat of her skin, and listened to the shallow, rasping breaths. He pulled a small pouch from his satchel, extracting a few dried leaves of a powerful fever-reducing herb he had discovered in the deeper forests. He quickly crushed them between his fingers, mixed them with a few drops of water from his waterskin, and offered the bitter paste to the girl. He hummed a low, soothing tone, subtly channeling his internal healing energy, guiding the herb's properties to take effect, coaxing the girl's own body to fight the infection.

Within the hour, the girl's breathing eased, the flush receded, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead – a clear sign the fever was breaking. The parents, tears of profound relief in their eyes, could not thank him enough. They insisted on giving him something.

"We have little," the father said, his voice thick with gratitude, "but take this. It is all we can offer." He pressed a small pouch of coin into Elos's hand, far more than Elos had expected. "And this," the mother added, her eyes wide with a quiet awe, offering a small, tightly wrapped package, no larger than his palm, secured with a thin leather thong. "It is a token of our deepest thanks. For you. A blessing."

Elos accepted them, his fingers brushing theirs, a fleeting moment of human connection after so long. He simply nodded, offering a gentle smile. He observed their faces, their goods, trying to glean fragments of news from the outside world – whispers of distant settlements, political rumblings, new discoveries in trade routes. He then engaged in the trade, offering them a generous portion of his perfectly smoked fish, knowing its value for long journeys across less fruitful lands. The traders, their eyes widening at the sight and smell of the fish, happily accepted the trade for the smoked fish. In return, he received a bolt of rough, undyed wool cloth, a section of cured leather, a finer awl for leatherwork, a handful of sturdy sewing needles, durable fishing hooks that would replace his more primitive bone and wood versions, and a collection of soft, supple furs. Ivy, surprisingly calm amidst the bustle, had stayed glued to his side, occasionally giving a low growl at a particularly rough-looking trader, or nudging Elos with her nose when a deal seemed favorable, her intelligence subtly guiding him. The encounter had been brief, a fleeting connection before the caravan rumbled off, disappearing back into the winding pass, leaving Elos and Ivy once again in the profound silence of their solitude. He remembered the bittersweet feeling: a strange relief at their departure, mixed with a deeper ache of loneliness for the world he had left behind. Yet, it also strengthened his resolve – he could survive, and even thrive, on his own terms. He held the small, unopened package, its contents a mystery he would not unveil yet.

With his newly acquired coin, wool cloth, cured leather, furs, and tools, Elos realized he had traded a significant portion of his first fish haul. While he had ample dried berries and roots stored at the oasis, a larger reserve of protein would be wise for the long winter. His thoughts returned to the river, knowing it would soon begin to freeze over.