You make like you're going to examine the dead rider, then snap forward and—wait, what are you doing?! Unhand me, cur! I hiss and writhe, but you've got an excellent grip. No you don't! No you c
The cat can't even twist around to scratch you. You raise me up so you're looking right into my eyes.
"No games," you say. "I need answers."
So I guess I'm caught. I bet you think this is tremendously funny, that I can't even narrate my way out of this indignity. I go limp in your grip. Look, I'm not what I once was, I can no longer write my will and whims into the book of the world, but I still have my pride, Isaak Cobb. Set me down.
You place the cat back on the wall.
This isn't like unbottling a genie, you know. But I can try to shift events to your satisfaction. What is it you wish?
"Tell me how to heal Clay."
"Where does this Bane come from?"
"You need to get Black Tarn out of the Umbra."
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