Content Warning for non-graphic sexual abuse of a minor

The morning of Tarlah’s rescue started like many others.

Flee to the center post. . . . You will find shelter there. . . . Flee. . . .

Hu-Hure clung to those soundless words as she ran on all fours, her mate at her heels. The trees ahead made vague silhouettes, obscured as though by a swirling winter fog. Yet no daytime fog ever grew so black, while instead of a gentle drizzle or sifting snow, this cloud bank carried with it a rainfall of ash, live embers, and burning twigs, all flung ahead of the blaze rampaging behind them.

When they came to Tilnon’s door to arrest him that cold, pale spring morning, his strongest reaction was one of relief. Of course the expected fear gripped him as well, but that concerned his family and how they would fare without him. For himself, he felt relief. It would be too horribly wrong, nearly as dreadful as all that had passed that hideous winter, if no reckoning ever occurred. Now the waiting and wondering would come to an end.

A cautionary tale among our race, the story as recited by loremasters and told by parents to their cubs varies significantly from the more detached, fuller account gathered by Master Historian Hoev and Lore-gatherer Hu-Haekel in 198 AK. Attached is a transcript of the tale as told by Loremaster Hemev at the Spring Council meeting of 405 AK.