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A motley of privateer changelings own and operate a Hollow in the Hedge that sits up on a knoll above a moonsilver stream. In this cottage, the Lost render hobgoblins into what they call “essential components”. Fats rendered into lard or candle tallow. Meat from exotic beasts butchered (the hocks of a sedgeboar, boudinstyle sausage filled with ground-up murk-possum). Pelts cut, skin separated. Other... unique parts kept aside and told to enterprising Hedgespinners or chefs. Most of what they render ends up in a Goblin Market somewhere.
These privateers aren’t pleasant men. Their aprons spattered in blood-and-bile is a clue, but they still try to put on a pleasant face: that is, until they try to render the use out of a changeling, too. Not by processing the meat (not usually), but by breaking down a changeling into his bare components of intangible value: maybe he can work some magic at Court or knows where to find a nest of rare Thorn thrushes. Then the motley leans on the character, doing whatever they must do to get him to comply with their demands. Anything is better than ending up in the fat-vats and having one’s life boiled out so that it can drift as yellow “foam” atop the moonsilver stream...
- Rites of Spring, p. 134