Not quite.

Seek (Perception) vs. Stealth DC 21. 1d20+2=19. Close, but no luck...

Gilia doesn't see anything - not a blade of grass or a leaf stirring nearby. She lets out a wail. "Gods DAMN it!" She can feel tears starting in her eyes, and she furiously dashes them away. She sits on the edge of the obscene fountain and buries her face in her hands, trying not to cry. I'm lost in the woods and I've lost what little coin I had! She lets out a deep, shuddering sob.

A voice suddenly speaks from behind her, deep and stately. "Why, mortal wench. What's a pretty little thing like you crying for?"

Gilia shrieks and leaps up, whirling around and firing her crossbow in the direction of the voice. The bolt just shatters against the statue. Nothing seems to be there. She stares around, wide-eyed. "H-Hello?!"

"Yes, you!" the voice replies, and Gilia yelps again. This time there's no mistaking it, though: the voice is coming from the closest of the three goat-legged men in the statue. The laughing face doesn't move, but the voice issues forth from its mouth. "The buxom little hellspawn. What's got a cute girl like you down?"

"Don't bother her, Tymon," another voice says. This one sounds very similar, but it's slightly higher and comes from the statue in the middle. "Mortal girls don't want to share their troubles with you!"

"Don't be cruel, Symon," the third statue says. Again it sounds similar, but raspier this time - like someone imitating an old man. "If Tymon wants to inquire after the girl's wellbeing, he's allowed."

"Thank you...Jymon," the first voice says. "Now, come, girl. Tell us your troubles, won't you? We're just statues, we don't have a lot to do on any given day."

"Yeah, and believe it or not, jacking off on these nymph hotties gets kinda old when they don't respond to getting a cupful of cum poured on them," Symon says with an audible sneer.

Gilia frowns, squinting at the statues.