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Chapter Two: Trail of the Straw Thief

"The winter moon is surrounded by an extraordinary darkness, the logical antithesis of the supernal clarity of day; in this darkness, the dogs in every household howl together at the sight of a star, as if the stars were unnatural things."

-Angela Carter, "The Smile of Winter"

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The Rage is in you, making you itch, making you hurt. It feels like there's wolf fur and dirty hair between your skin and your flesh, and every time you move, it slides and scratches around and you just want to dig your claws into your skin and open it up and make the itching stop.

A vegetarian café below street level, away from the freezing wind, serves you a hot bowl of lentil soup and some coffee; fuel for your work here. Surrounded by pre-Raphaelite prints in gilded frames, bookshelves heavy with modernist literature, and early morning students drinking smoothies and opening their laptops—all the trappings of a well-to-do college town—you count out your last few bills, then dig around for change. The dead horseman's fortune in twenties has dwindled to less than forty dollars.

Before you can learn more about the Bane that invaded your territory, you have to consider the three necessities of modern life: food, shelter, and data. You also need to consider the Wolf: this sort of urban-rural borderland, sheltered by hills and rivers, is perfect for Garou. And werewolves don't react well to intruders. On the other hand, maybe someone here can tell you more about what happened here.

I need to find other Garou and make formal introductions.

No use starving to death before I learn anything: I need a job and a place to stay. Maybe even a nice place around normal people.

I get right to work on the investigation. I need to learn where the Banes are coming from, and I don't expect other Garou to help.

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