The cease fire between the Remans and their population of Others was tenuous at best. No amount of laws, or integrations seemed to thaw the frosty reception that the golden people of ‘great’ Aclata gave to those less than human. After all, for generations they had called us “Unnatural”. Decreeing that Others could no longer be kept as slaves, or killed simply for what they were had caused a furor that Tiru, as King, was barely in control of. He was trying, though, and even though it irked him, there were concessions that he had to make, so that the merger of human and Other was a little more palatable for his people.

It was why we had the Dark Hunt, why Annie would have a list of potential misdemeanors perpetrated by Others. Part of the ‘deal’ was that in exchange for human laws being extended to them - so that murder and mayhem against them was just as illegal as that done by one human to another - the Others would be held to a vicious standard if they in turn raised a hand against a human. The Dark Hunt went both ways, and was built to seek out instances of Other on human, and human on Other violence.

If locals reported that a werewolf had killed a child, then we would investigate it. If the werewolf was found to be guilty, we were responsible for carrying out their punishment. It was usually death. It was brutal, but we had found that both sides needed an even bigger boogeyman than each other to keep everyone in order.

I did not often partake in the investigation side of the Hunt, though I had helped form it and choose those that now led it. It was a bloody, unforgiving business and one that did not make me many friends, human or otherwise. But for an excuse to get out of the castle I would make an exception. As such, I found myself riding into a nearby settlement as night began to fall. Remans tended to build their towns in a way that was reminiscent of their sun god. Most Aclatan cities were surrounded by a ring of tiny towns and hamlets, like rays bursting forth from the sun itself. The further away from the glow of the city, the smaller they were.

This one was tiny. A miniscule blip that would only have mattered to the few isolated souls that called it home. If it were not for the directions that Annie had given me, an assurance that the road from Vendisport to Southstone would take me past it, and a small, sad looking sign with the name “Darkstone” carved upon it, I may have missed it entirely. Most of the houses were dark and quiet, with only a small thatched building I gathered may have been a tavern, glowing warmly from within.

I could not help but make a face at the thought of wandering in there in search of details. If I could avoid strangers, I would. I always had. Taverns were bright and noisy and full of far too much false cheer and bravado. Drunk people didn’t tend to look favourably on Others either, especially out in backwaters like this. The horse beneath me sighed, and meandered forward in an absent-minded fashion. The reins were slack across its neck, and it had taken the opportunity to stuff its face with the long grass by the roadside. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, and considered my options. A good little member of the Dark Hunt would march in there, and demand to know who had petitioned us to hunt their supposed “fen witch”. I was not a good little member though, I had written the book and I could decide to throw it out the window if I wanted. Still, it would give me more to go on, make sure I wasn’t blindsided walking into something I couldn’t handle on my own.

Or they might just spout nonsense, superstitious hoodoo about a creature not at all understood, or desired. If there was even a creature in the fen at all.

The fen itself wasn’t hard to find, it encircled most of the town with a boggy, wet smell. I’d passed the edges of it on the way in, and no doubt it went far deeper. Why anyone would choose to settle in a bog was beyond me, but here they were. Night was quickly deepening as I sat, dithering. Lights in the fen would not be hard to find. But maybe an unbiased, sober resident of Darkstone would be. I gathered my reins with a sigh. My little pony’s head came up with a mouthful of green, content. Instead of heading to its tiny centre, we bypassed Darkstone in silence, picking our way deeper into the fen.