You know nothing!" the old woman snaps, her voice a tangled nightmare as it emerges from her muzzle. You try to ignore her and finish your whispered words. "You haven't learned fear, pup, that much is obvious. No wonder you keep failing."
Failing? Confused, you turn as Scarper—tall and lean and shaggy in his near-human form—stalks down the slope, bloody knife in hand, to stand beside the old theurge.
"I finished your work, idiot," Scarper says. "I finished the Bane."