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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The great skin-switcher was nearby, I could feel it. The
shrinking catalogue of names on my kill list seemed to make
for a power in and of itself—a gravity field that affected only
a select group of wolves, drawing us all together despite a
world of obstacles and seeming alternatives. Generally, I
wandered without destination or fortune, passenger of the
wind, bound for anywhere, hailing only from the dust. Yet
now I possessed direction, compelled to follow the delicate
strand of spider’s web that was slowly and certainly pulling
me in a specific direction for a singular purpose.
My next designated adversary was palpably irritated
by my rambling and time-consuming path to our first and
final meeting. I could feel his impatience like a growing
heat as I tread in the direction of his lair. It felt as though I
were closing on a great fire, which was both advantageous
and troubling. While advantages are wonderful things to
discover within the heat of battle—a momentary revelation
of strategy or the discovery of personal reserves of killing
energy—this advantage originated from mere intolerance.
Mister Hide was too irritable, and was thus more likely to
make a mistake while in such a state. This was disheartening.
I enjoyed only those victories which were mine entirely,
not owing to tricks or calculations of weakness. I confronted
only my enemy’s greatest strength, so that their failings may
be made plain upon their defeat. It must be made clear that
their utmost powers failed to overcome my own. Anything

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