Both figures emerge
from the smoke, tall and hooded, with no distinguishing features to
tell them apart. Both reach into the mist, fetching chairs from
nowhere, and proceed to sit.
“Now,” says the
first, in a voice so deep it rumbles through the floor, “Tell us
what happened at the plant.”
“Just a minute,”
she replies, “Why should I tell you anything? I don't know who you
are.”
“You will tell us,”
the second voice says, and she realises she doesn't know which is
speaking, “Because you want to go home.”
“I'm not saying a
word,” she insists, “Until I know who you are. Are you from the
Forest?”
The first figure rises
from its chair, towering over her. “Who we are is the least of
your concerns,” it says fiercely. “We will start with the
basics. You are Castor, yes? You are an Agent of The Forest?”
