![]() “Freya,” her sister, Esther, tugged at her sleeve. Such familiarity invited the goblins to join a weary traveler on their journey home. ![]() Usually, she would lift the edge so she could only see the blurry visage of the goblins. Freya tucked the frayed edges of her scarf securely around her neck, over the layers of her dark hair. Food from faroff places, jewelry so beautiful it made tears prick a mortal eye, and perfume that would ensure true love. Bells that chimed, twinkled, and rang for visitors from all over to see the goblin wares. Someone had dyed woolen sheep skins bright red and laid them to hide the rotting planks. ![]() All manner of fabric and hide covered wooden wheels and rickety beds. Sunlight slashed through the forest beyond in harsh beams of gold that illuminated their strange carts. ![]() The chime of goblin bells filled the clearing, as they did every first week of the month. ![]()
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