The queen kept herself to the shadows as she neared. She peered around a tree trunk. Fable was a dozen paces away, accompanied by both twins and the girl from the village—Evie. They crossed a fallen log together.
“Well, true,” Fable admitted. “But you’re no good at being horrible. And my mama says Chief Nudd put a stop to all that, anyway. Mama wouldn’t be friends with goblins if they were bad. She always does what’s right for the forest. She’s a good Witch of the Wood.”
The queen felt a lump in her throat and her chest tightened. Her daughter thought she was a good witch.
“The point is,” Fable added, “Mr. Hill is a butt.”
“He’s actually been really nice—especially after the accident,” Evie said. “He helped my dad get settled in at home and he paid for all his doctor bills. He’s come by every day to check up on him and bring him soup and other stuff to make him feel better. He even stuck around to keep me company while Dad was resting. He says my drawings are really good. Today, though—he’s like a whole different person.”
“He isn’t even supposed to be here anymore,” Cole said. “After the giant, he said he was done trying to find oil and was going to go back to selling tonics in the city. I wish he had.”
“I don’t think he’s actually bad on the inside,” Evie said. “His tonic really works, did you know? He gave my dad this ‘fortifying elixir’ he made himself. He calls it his golden goose. Said it was supposed to boost Dad’s strength, and it did! Yesterday my dad even felt good enough to try walking a few steps. Mr. Hill was really proud of him.”
“That’s great and everything,” said Fable, “but a spoonful of medicine isn’t gonna protect all the innocent forest folk about to get killed.”
The queen straightened.
“NOT KILL FOREST FOLK!” thundered a voice like a wet avalanche.
The queen froze. Ice ran through her veins as a nearby boulder unfolded itself with a grinding noise and a spray of dirt and dry moss.
“FOREST FOLK KILL YOU!”
TWENTY-FOUR
As one, the children skidded to a stop.
In front of them loomed a figure made of living rock. The brute was nine feet tall and almost as wide across from shoulder to shoulder. Stony fists clenched and unclenched with a grinding crunch. Each one of the creature’s massive hands looked as if it probably weighed as much as all four children combined. The troll’s eyes glowed a soft orange within their granite sockets.
“HUMANS BAD!” Stony muscles flexed with a sound like shifting bricks as the granite goliath stomped forward. Cole stood frozen directly in its path. “HUMANS WANT KILL FOREST FOLK.”
“Th-that’s a rock troll!” Evie stammered. “I have a whole page about them.”
“Hey!” Cole yelled. “We’re not trying to kill anybody!”
The troll raised its fists over its head—but before it could bring them down on Cole’s skull, a hillside of fur and muscles erupted from behind a nearby tree and slammed into the boy, rolling with him out of the way of the rocky fists. The troll’s blow left a deep divot in the soft earth, and sent leaves spinning down the forest floor.
A few feet away, the furry shape unfurled to deposit Cole back on his feet again, confused but unharmed. He looked up to find himself face-to-face with a grizzly. The bear huffed and Cole’s hair fluttered.
“Mama?” Fable said. The bear-queen met her gaze.
“SMALL ONES WARNED TROLLKIN ABOUT HUMANS,” the troll growled, taking a second wide swing, this time for Fable. She dodged narrowly out of his reach. “HUMANS BAD! HOLD STILL, HUMANS! BE DEAD!”
In one fluid motion, the bear stood up on her hind legs, threw back her head, and spun, her thick hide becoming a cloak once more. The queen stood before the troll, her face a mask of royal fury. “Nobody is killing anybody!” she declared.
“HUMAN NOT TELL TROLL WHAT TO DO.” The brute’s glowing orange eyes focused on the queen. “NO MORE.”
The queen held her ground, locked in a battle of wills as she faced down the troll—but Fable could see that the creature was unmoved. If anything, his stony expression only grew angrier.
“Wait!” Fable yelled. She threw herself forward between her mother and the troll just as it raised its fists again. The troll did not wait.
The troll swung. Fable threw her hands in front of her face, a futile defense from the mountain of rock descending toward her.
“No!” the queen cried.
And then the universe hiccuped.
There was a crack, like the snapping of a thick rubber band, and then a whoosh of air, as though someone had opened a door in the middle of a storm. Fable’s insides felt like soap bubbles in a whirlwind and she fought back a tingling pressure inside her head.
The queen gasped. One instant, bulging rocky knuckles had been driving toward her daughter like a runaway freight train—and the next, the two of them were being showered in a deluge of tiny, glossy pebbles instead.
Fable blinked dust out of her eyes. The troll was gone. Slowly, she lowered her arms. Her legs felt wobbly and she was dizzy. She shook her head as the tingling ebbed.
A bulging hill of pebbles, smooth as river rocks, stood before her, tinkling quietly over her toes as it settled. The pile shifted, and the queen and all four children stared as a drab green dome rose to the surface. Gradually, a wobbling tortoise emerged from the pile. It had knobbly legs that moved uncertainly as it pulled itself through the heap of stones. It turned a pair of orange eyes accusingly toward Fable.
“Is that . . . ?” Tinn let the question hang in the air.
“Did you . . . ?” Cole began.
“You just turtled that troll!” Evie finished. “That’s so awesome!”
Fable looked sheepishly at her mother. “I didn’t mean to.”
The queen had to remind herself to breathe again. Master-level mages in the Annwyn could not have pulled off a transfiguration like that—not
