Goblins do eat plants, but seem to prefer meat. Their diet is similar to yours, if much less picky.
The deer don't really know anything about the plains that you haven't already learned.
You look in the minds of birds. You see the ocean, the river, and the hills much more than you did a couple days ago. You're moving closer to them.
A very small one, sure.
"I'm not going to run away," you tell Grekl, "you're my only protection against the orcs. And you have your curses to use if I fled."
The hag considers your words for a moment, the firelight playing on her scabbed and useless eye sockets. The more you look at her face, the more convinced you are that it had an intimate encounter with an orcish sword in the not-too-distant past.
"Not to mention," you say, "the wild things like me. They feel what I feel. The worse I'm treated, the slimmer pickings will be."
You manage to make that sound like a simple, unavoidable fact, rather than a threat.
She doesn't reply to you, but gives an order to the goblins. Tonight, you are left unbound.