The room was dark and musty only lit by a pair of lanterns situated at either end of the table sat in the middle, a slight damp smell permeated the air, moss growing happily in between the cracks of the masonry. The warmth felt uncomfortable from years on the slopes of the cold mountain, especially when looking at the coats of the two border officials sitting across from me. After several grueling hours of interrogation, the border officers finally push their chairs back and stand up, smiling faces and open arms for the two of us in the room.

“Lady Rinston and Silmäth Rinston, it is with immense pleasure that we welcome you back to the Avoracian valley. It is a bit unusual for the man to take his wife’s last name but given the circumstances, we are delighted at your display of commitment into accepting and reintegrating with us of the valley. I know we’ve had our disputes before, but if more mountaineers had open minds like you, I’m sure we could move forward.”

The Widow Rinston looks genuinely pleased to be back and off the mountain. I, for my part had to put on a face. We shake, hug, and go through the pleasantries before getting up to finally see how our little Fae was doing.  Lady Rinston exits first, and as I move to follow, I find myself blocked by two figures in dark coats as they push their way into the room. I hear one of the guards out in the hall reassure the Widow Rinston that I would be okay. That this was just a formality requested from the Fast themselves – apparently, they had taken a keen interest in our case.

The door closes and I’m made to sit back down. The coats from the fast take their spots, one across from me by the table and the other in the corner. I stare at the coat hiding in the shadows, somehow I think I remember them from somewhere. The one across the table opens a huge ledger and removes their mask, revealing the dark toned skin of a boy no more than 20. A bit of stubble breaks the monotony of his skin.

“Rare to see one of us without any hair,” He remarks in a joking manner gesturing around his chin. “Might’ve come in handy with the cold I presume.”

His partner leans forward, a flash of metal betraying his prosthetic arm.

“Get on with it Cawl, you’re set to leave today for Pig’s Bay. Your own request if I remember.” He says, annoyance dripping of his words. His partner at the table nods and begins pulling out writing supplies.

I interject. “I don’t understand, I’ve already told everything to the border officials.” Anxious sweat collects on my forehead. I remember where I have met the coat with the prosthetic, and I wonder how much they know.

The coat in the corner clicks his tongue. “From what I heard; Lady Rinston told everything to the border officials. Besides, we are separate from the Avoracian government – the autonomy lets us better do our jobs.” He settles back into the corner and does a half-hearted wave to his companion who, in turn turns to me, ink and pen now ready.

“What he’s saying is whatever you say remains between you and us. So, please. From the top if you please – what really happened to Silmäth Tamarynn?”