Arming yourself up with antidotes and the like, you prepare yourself and your gobs for warmaking and potential peacemaking. The bugbears are a more immediate thought, with the fishermen being left- for now- to cower in unknowing terror of their inevitable doom.
As well as this, work on the trench/wall continues, as well as production of additional shields, more twig and driftwood gathering, fish-herding, and all the other tasks your goblins perform for daily life. Yet you can feel their anxiousness. They're eager to fight. Food is keeping the tribe content for so long, but you know that somewhere in the camp there's bloodthirsty gobs looking to start a big, gloriously bloody battle.
That's why you feel almost overjoyed when you hear one of the speargobs posted on the road report in, rushing furiously to your cave entrance. Bowing to the ground before you and your guards, he proudly declares,
"Glorious Leader! A caravan approaches! A caravan approaches, from up the road! So deliciously vulnerable...sirrrr."
Sidenote: End here? I've got about half an hour before I hit the hay, and some review/comments/criticisms/Q & A might work for that time period.