Your breath comes out in a rush. You've been running for hours. You don't feel tired. You haven't felt truly tired since the Change. The snow swirls, a cold snow like a lake that stings your eyes. The sky and ground are white, the trees across the empty meadow black where the frost doesn't hang from their branches. Only one thing moves, leaving a sinuous trail through the trees: your prey. You're downwind—though not for long, as unpredictable gusts send snow demons hurtling across the open ground—and you smell the acrid scent of steel and plastic. Your prey is close, and you know you must prove yourself this time. Your last chance. You push the thought away. After all, you've discovered this threat. You've found what the others have missed, and they've allowed you to lead the hunt. Like your spiritual ancestors of ages past, whose battles with the demons of the earth became the legends of Beowulf, Hercules, and Saint Martha, you have used all your knowledge and skill to track down this monster, this impure spirit... this Bane.
[First, go to options.]
I have hunted the wilderness for weeks, crisscrossing the wintry landscape, focusing all my stamina and survival skills on tracking the Bane to its lair.
I am no Iron Age warrior. I have used my computer training and technical know-how to build models that predict the Bane's path based on its trail of destruction.
This Bane is no lone monster. It has mortal contacts. I have found these people and explained what I will do to them if they do not talk. I have always been good at making threats.
The mortal allies of a Bane are cowards and greedy. I have manipulated them into giving me the information I need to investigate this monster's ways.
Gaia's warriors have been keeping records since before the ancient Sumerians scrawled lines on clay. I have consulted the ancient records to learn about this Curse, its habits, and its weaknesses.
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