throat.
I guess that answers that.
Angelique turned her back to the woods and started marching in the direction of the tree trunk that contained the gate home.
She’d marked the tree that morning with a bit of her magic so it would be easier to find. Although she had trouble sensing others magic, hers was always a silvery, sharp sensation she could find with her eyes closed, so even though she’d rambled through the woods all day, it only took half an hour to make her way to the tree.
She set her hand on the trunk and was just about to remove her magical mark—no sense leaving it up for others to find overnight—when a high-pitched scream tore the quiet of the trees.
Angelique abandoned the tree and ran in the direction of the scream, barreling through underbrush as her charmed dress shielded her legs and torso. She yanked on her magic and started twisting it first into one spell, followed in short succession by another.
After finishing both spells, Angelique veered to a stop. She held her breath as she tried to listen for more screams.
A man shouted, but he was almost inaudible over the familiar sound of goblins cackling.
Angelique yanked at the seams of one of her spells and started adjusting it to account for more targets—goblins always traveled and attacked in groups—and sprinted as best as she could through the shadowy woods.
She ducked a branch and jumped a fallen log as the snorting giggles grew louder. She careened around a tree and almost trampled a goblin, skidding to a stop at the last second.
About twelve goblins had a man and two children—a boy and a girl—surrounded.
The forest goblins—based on the green hue of their skin—wielded rudimentary spears and swords and closed ranks around the villagers.
The man tried to pull the children behind him, but a red stain of blood blotted his linen shirt at the shoulder, and he had a nasty gash on top of his hand that dripped blood down his fingers.
The boy was white-faced with fright, and the little girl screamed, her face tear spattered and splotchy red.
One of the goblins took a swipe at them, and the mage inside Angelique raged.
Mages were supposed to protect the weak and the innocent. How could the Conclave be so unresponsive when Farset was this infected with creatures?
Angelique narrowed her eyes and unleashed her first spell, whispering to the magic as it whirled around her.
Roots shot out of the ground, snagging the goblins by their ankles, and tendrils of ivy and vines slithered off trees and latched onto their wrists.
The creatures gurgled in surprise and struggled, trying to hack at the entangling greenery, but the roots and vines spun around them like a spider cocooning trapped flies.
Angelique balanced the second spell in the palm of her hand. It floated like a silver flame, deceitfully small and benign. She waited until the roots had the goblins completely entangled with their arms flattened to their sides and their legs pressed together, then loosened it.
The surrounding trees groaned and creaked ominously. Angelique’s magic ripped them out of the ground, toppling them in a carefully calculated pattern that crushed the goblins, but didn’t harm the injured villager and his children.
The goblins squealed, but their screams were cut off when they died, pinned down by the large trees.
A few moments passed, and the only noise was the choked sobs of the little girl.
Angelique relaxed and suppressed her magic, then focused on the victims. “Hello? Don’t be afraid.”
Trunks and logs littered around the villagers, but she could still see them as she hopped on top of one of the trunks and picked her way closer to them. “I’m an enchantress-in-training. Are you injured?”
“We’re okay.”
Angelique veered around a branch that poked up from the trunk just in time to see the man lift up the boy and put him on a trunk. He did the same to the little girl, too, then scooped up a dark green cloak.
He appeared to be roughly thirty, and going by the lack of travel packs, he must be from a nearby village—his shirt was a simple weave, but his cloak had some embroidery of little white sheep around the throat.
The children were dressed in similar sturdy but warm and well-made clothes.
“Thank you for your help.” He smoothed the little girl’s hair—she was still crying, but in startled little gasps. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t arrived, mage…” He finally shifted his gaze to Angelique, and his words seemed