Swamped

"Did you read anything by other Marshguards?" you ask. "Over at our base, we had a book of unimpressive scary stories that a Marshguard prisoner wrote... I think his name was Pepper."

Rivers starts to frown even more severely than usual.

"Oh, gods, yeah, I remember that one. You were lucky, you didn't have Pepper around prodding you about your opinion when he saw you reading it. Those stories were so damn stupid. The worst part is, I had real stupid nightmares for nearly a week afterwards."

"Now that you mention it, I had a nightmare the night after I read that, too."

"Anyhow, I think he's the only one at our base who's written anything," Rivers continues. "Well, under a Marshguard name, anyhow. Who knows who might have written a book before running off to the swamp and going into hiding."

"Apparently my father did," you mutter, mostly to yourself.

"Good for him. Anyhow, that's how I passed most of my time. At least until Starling started hanging out around me, then she just kept telling me about animals. And I didn't really have anything better to do than listen, since I'd run out of books by then."

Something strikes you.

"Rider had a whole shelf of books. You never thought to ask if he had any you could borrow? Or if anyone else did, for that matter?"

"Unless you donate them for general use, books are personal effects. We don't go pryin' into that sort of thing in the Marshguards."

Huh. You never would have thought of asking about books as prying, but apparently it is.