You conduct a quick search of the horse-thing's tack, but you're no equestrian, and it's hard to find anything useful among the fast-freezing pink gore. So it's time to check the man.
You move carefully among the black trees, and while the dim moonlight makes it hard to see, it's hard to ignore the dead man's evacuated-bowel smell. You soon find the corpse.
Despite the stink, the flies are all dead. You gingerly inspect the rider's equipment. The ruggedized tablet is a sticky nightmare, and it doesn't turn on. You set it aside and inspect the rest of his gear.
Knife: USMC KA-BAR, favored by paramilitary geeks all over the US. The snow goggles look military grade, too, and SNOWHAWK is etched across the top. The balaclava…the throat…someone just slit this man's throat.
You didn't do that.
"Why do I have to do your work?" a voice says behind you.
One of Clay's pack, the galliard: Scarper. He flicks a knife back and forth in front of your face. The two other Garou lurk in the darkness nearby, nothing but wolf-shaped shadows.
"Back off before you look like him, Scarper!" I snap at Scarper with my huge teeth.
"Put that knife away and help me search the body." If we can learn who this rider was, we can learn where he came from.
I keep searching, looking for something that will help me warn people, if there are more of these things.
I grudgingly step back. The Litany has truly failed, if all Scarper wants to do is wave that knife around and threaten me when we still have work.
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