“Hang on.” Mariko Sato carefully re-balanced her phone between her head and shoulder before continuing her thought. 

“...She’s prideful and has this intense need to be acknowledged.” 

Sato made a small adjustment to the rental car’s rear view mirror. There was nothing behind her but the endless evergreen forest that covered this remote part of Oregon. She quickly checked her ponytail, tight and professional. The occasional ray of sun broke through the trees and flashed a blinding glare on her thick-rimmed glasses. 

“...but she never tries to steal the spotlight from others… but when it’s her time to shine she revels in it.” 

The car quietly rolled by a sign: “Kessler Valley - 1/4 mile”. Sato flicked on the car’s turn signal despite the lack of traffic. It really wouldn’t do for an agent of Interpol to be pulled over for improper signaling, even if she had spent the last day and a half living the flight itinerary from hell, including an overnight layover in O’Hare. 

Sato slowed and turned down the road to Kessler Valley, where the titular village quietly slept. Sato frowned. “...I’m almost into town. I’ll talk to you later.” 

Sato hung up and tossed her phone into the empty passenger seat. The hand painted acrylic charm of Rainbow Dash flopped against the cushion. Feeling a bit flush, she turned down the heater as it was an oddly pleasant day for mid-October in the pacific northwest. 

The summer heat was fading; she was happy about that. If she was cold… well that was what heaters and blankets were for. 

The boxy black SUV crested a hill and she could see scattered buildings through the trees. All spaced out in utilitarian squares, nothing like the claustrophobic maze of Lyon or the nonsensical winding pathways of the french countryside. 

It was good to be back in America, she supposed. Although, this would not have been the area she would have chosen for a vacation. This was all a bit too reminiscent of her parents’ place in northern Maine. The trees were further apart and the brush wasn’t as heavy but it still felt sickeningly familiar. Sato put the mix of fury and nostalgia aside, neither were productive and she was here on business. 

Just ahead, a set of red and blue lights flashed to life as she rounded the final bend. She smiled, then jumped as her vehicle dipped down into a pothole she hadn’t seen. The car lurched, sending her phone clattering to the floor of the vehicle. She slowed and pulled alongside the marked cruiser idling on the shoulder. Pulling off her seat-belt, she hopped down onto the well worn road. 

A fit young woman in beige uniform leaned up against the cruiser. Her dirty blonde hair was neatly cut just above her shoulder and her shirt was tucked in tightly. 

“Sorry” She gestured dismissively toward the pothole. “Sheriff told me to warn you about that.” She sounded not the least bit apologetic. 

Sato flashed a friendly smile and reached into her heavy coat. “It’s quite alright.” She produced her badge from her coat pocket and added, “Agent Sato, Interpol.” 

The young woman crossed her arms. “Nice ta meetcha agent…” Her tone held a hint of bitter sarcasm yet remained carefully non-confrontational. “Deputy Harrington.” She thumbed upward at herself, keeping her hands casually resting in her belt. “Sheriff was sayin’, you might be around awhile. Wanted me to ask if you needed a place to stay.” 

Sato shook her head. “I’ve already made arrangements with a local bed and breakfast.” 

Harrington scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ll be wantin’ queer house then, hang a left up on the next road and it’ll be on your right in about a mile.” 

The way Harrington emphasized her casual homophobia was as if she thought it terribly clever. Sato ignored the obvious bait. An attempt to get under her skin, perhaps? A playfully cruel part of Sato smiled inwardly. 

“Thank you.” Sato smiled and extended a hand to shake. “Will be nice working with you.” Harrington looked at Sato’s hand with a mix of disgust and confusion making no effort to take it. “You be havin’ a nice night.” Harrington pulled open the door of her car. She looked up before getting in. “Sheriff will be expecting you at the station, 9am sharp tomorrow.” 

Sato nodded and waved as Harrington backed up and pulled away. 

She pulled up the passenger side door and went looking for her phone. Eventually, she pulled it out from under the seat and cradled the tiny key-chain. 

“Sorry about that, Dash.” She whispered to it quietly.