Traa will find a few strips of brittle Goblin leather stacked in her barracks. Written in Strewth's messy scrawl is everything she'd said about who she was, before the curse wore off. Everything they knew about who she'd been. Just in case she wanted to remember.
Traa could recognize Strewth's scrawl anywhere. At first, she thought it might be a note about items from the forge or maybe a "I'm feeling peckish, can you snag some changeling?" or something like that. But no, what she saw made the Big Empty in her shudder.
Family? She had a family? A mother? How? Hadn't she been a thrall? Hadn't she always been a thrall?
She didn't remember anything else, only what she could do and what had happened to her when she first joined the army... Except for her father—her father who was the reason she hated changelings. But reading this—it made her feel warm inside, just on the rims of the Big Empty, the bit of her that hadn't been hollowed out.
With utmost care, Traa slipped the goblin leather into her Gurdy case, keeping the flat part against these precious pages. She was going to get something for Strewth now, something wonderful and precious and good tasting. She may need to owe a favor to one of the Gamekeeper's siblings but she was going tor repay—no, reciprocate this kindness.
"Grutega Strewth... Mungé Grutega..."