The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 7

Tuni shrugged off the thought. “He made his choice.” The fact that he may die would have weighed heavily on her heart in the past, but she’d grown out of the sentiments of pity and guilt long ago. She tried to save those that were lost in the vast expanses of the Spirit Wilds when she could, even though it went against everything she was taught in her village. She had long come to realize that she couldn’t help everyone, though, and that indeed not everyone wanted her help.

For what was she but a mere girl?

Gripping her bow, Tuni left her spirit friends behind and began her trek home. Without looking, she could sense the spirits disappear and fade into the landscape. She wished she could use that trick, but sadly, she was only human.

Tuni’s progress was slow as she had to navigate the dangers that the wilds presented to those who sought to traverse it. First, she had to hide in the roots of an overturned mushroom from a couple of butterwasps, with their massive wings kicking up gusts of dusty wind and their leg-length stingers glinting in the sunlight. Then, she was nearly trampled by a stampeding herd of elephant beetles.

She should have heard them coming from a mile away, but her thoughts were elsewhere, as they usually were. Tuni’s mind constantly wandered and on so many occasions, her wandering imagination had gotten her into trouble and almost gotten her and her friends killed. She tried her best at times, but she was so easily amused, and the simplest things always seemed to distract her. Tuni was getting better at controlling her attention though, through a lot of trial and error.

Still, she had to admit to herself how astounding it was that a herd of elephant beetles was able to escape her attention. Tuni was just happy that she was alive and not trampled into a pile of broken bones and blood. No, that wouldn’t have felt good at all, and her friends would never forgive her for dying because of her stupidity. Luckily, she’d avoided that.

Embarrassingly enough, when the beetles had burst through the underbrush, Tuni had been thinking about Armal. Despite herself, she hoped that she would come across him again as she made her way back to her village. When he had fled from her presence, he headed northwest, which was the same direction as home. It was against the fates, but she silently hoped that she would see him again. She always told herself that she could handle the guilt of allowing a poor man like Armal to perish in the wilds, but her damned compassion always seemed to act up.

It took all day, but she finally made it home. With a smile as wide as the mushroom tops, she emerged from a thick orchard of thorn trees—thankfully, there was a safe path cut through them—and to the small valley carved into the Mushroom Wilds where her little village sat, cozy at the base of the immense stalks.

Tuni jogged down the small hill to the outskirts of the village where a low stone wall the height of her knees ringed it. It was covered in bells and carved runes—wards against malicious spirits. They didn’t encounter them often, but it was smart to err on the safe side.

As she ran, her beads and jewelry jingled loudly, signaling her arrival.

A few of the women of her village worked the meager fields that surrounded the village, picking weeds and watering here and there. It was almost time for harvest, at which point everyone would have to help, Tuni included. She didn’t want to, but her mother would force her, so there was no use arguing.

One of the women heard the jingling of her beads, stood up straight, weeds in hand, and waved. “Glad to see you haven’t broken any limbs this time out, girl,” she called with a smile.

“There’s still time left in the day, Mara.” Tuni laughed as she skipped by.

Tuni slowed to a brisk walk as she strode through her village. After a minute, she stopped in the central square where the cracked sunstone streets coalesced into a nice sunbaked plaza with an old fountain that had long since dried up. Much too fancy for a small village like theirs, but Tuni appreciated that someone tried to spruce the place up.

She leaned against the edge of the fountain and took a whiff of the air and sighed. It smelled like baked bread from Janni’s bakery, with a thick scent of lavender from Miss Val’s waxwork shop. It was a pretty niche establishment, but travelers often bought her ornate candles, so she stayed in business. It helped that everyone in the wilds loved her.

“Hey, Tuni!” a voice called.

Tuni turned to find her friends Sava and Rukshin jogging her way. They wore large smiles.

“Hi, guys.”

They came to a stop. Rukshin, the big tubby boy that he was, had to catch his breath. “You disappeared on us again,” he said between breaths.

Tuni smiled and laid back on the stone. It was cooler now that the setting sun had fallen behind the mushrooms. “I wanted to be alone, have some fun.”

“Well, we wanted to have fun too, you idiot, but we got stuck with chores,” pouted Sava. She crossed her arms. Her large lips puckered in a pathetically fake pout that was holding back a smile. Her curly hair was untied and free, a poofy halo around her face. Her brown skin glowed in the bits of sunlight that peaked through the mushroom forest.

Rukshin was round everywhere, a round head with puffy cheeks and a wide nose and thin eyes that made his face seem bigger. His gut was almost perfectly circular, though despite his girth, he was deceptively strong, which was why he went on patrol—he could wield a war hammer better than anyone. He liked to complain about his job, but Tuni knew that deep down, he loved it.

Tuni told them about