16Three days later, a small group of Angels attacked, and with a set of binoculars, I watched from the trees at the southern edge of the farthest clearing to the north. I only watched for about a minute, though, long enough to see the Angels, who were all men with nearly chalk-white faces and long, stringy hair, take to the field and begin unleashing their mayhem via shooting streams of electricity from their palms, streams of electricity that appeared to be at least double the thickness and power of streams shot by my fellow Gifteds.
The Angels had a way of almost flying instead of walking or running, moving forward or backward or any other way they wanted with their feet just barely skimming the ground. They didn’t even have to move their feet. It was as if they moved by being pulled by
