““If I was going to fight this beast — regardless of how poor my chances were — I needed the use of both hands, so I put the bulla around my neck. A wind swirled up around me when I did. “It isn’t yours,” the wind seemed to say. “It will curse you.” The threat didn’t bother me — my present situation was worse than any curse from a dusty amulet. My bigger concern was that the wind spoke to me at all.””
