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Your Blood sings in your veins as Yarrk leaps over the counter and bares down on the fallen Nosferatu.

"The road flares!" you shout, just as your lobo sinks his fangs into the creature's ankle. The wight howls and tries to reach Yarrk, buying the man precious moments. Your lobo darts out of reach, snapping and snarling. When people get scared, they can behave irrationally. You know because you've scared a lot of people. Sometimes they freeze. Sometimes they repeat stereotyped routines even when in mortal danger. And sometimes they do whatever they're told.

The man does what he's told. You can't quite see him from where you're standing, but you see the fallen Nosferatu suddenly illuminated in red light as the man ignites the flare.

The Beast is not just rage and Hunger—it is also fear: wild, irrational, animal fear. A road flare cannot seriously harm this monster, but the Beast knows that fire can destroy it as surely as sunlight. Even you feel a shock of terror, and the wight is nothing but its primal urges. It howls and flees, ripping away its chain in its haste. You duck just in time as steel links fly past your head.

Mad with fear, the creature smashes through the boarded-up front door and disappears into the night.

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