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Moira dreamt that she walked through the forest toward a small hovel with a thatched roof. She pushed through a curtain of leather strips that served as a door and entered the smoky one room building. 7 straw pallets lay strewn across the floor and a low table stood against the wall, stacked high with vials of herbs, potions, and poultices. On the wall above it, Moira spotted a mirror, smaller and simpler than hers. She placed her palm against the glass. The familiar fog swirled at her touch, blowing away to reveal her glass forest. 

When Moira woke, she made the short walk back to the mirror, stopping to refresh herself at the small spring. Moira approached the glass and performed the familiar ritual that brought the mirror to life. The fog appeared, followed by the hovel from her dream. A face came into view, wrinkled and angry, fussing at her in the old language of the forest. 

“It is you!” the creature said, finger waggling before the glass, “You are the one who stole the sacred looking glass!” Moira could not help but smile at her good fortune.

“No, not I, Master Goblin, but another of my kind. The queen of the big folk. You may know her by word of her beauty.”

“Aye, beauty and cruelty and cunning.” spat the goblin.

“Then help me sir, I am bound to her through blood and magic. Help me defeat her and you will have your mirror.” said Moira.

The goblin studied her a moment with shrewd, dark eyes, “What would you have of me and mine?”

“There is someone who needs protecting. Keep her safe and I will keep my word.” Moira said.

The End

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