Klas

**Theme: The Dilemma of the Cannibal Werewolf in a Time of Environmental Crisis**

Ah, the glorious life of a Garou, where each day brings not only the fight against the Wyrm, but also a truly gourmet approach to the most inappropriate situations. Who would have thought that one day you would wake up and ask yourself: "Should I or should I not devour a wounded dead horse while fighting the apocalyptic decline of civilization?" It's almost as if we're watching a combination of a cooking reality show and a National Geographic documentary, where the prize is survival or, alternatively, a stomach full of rotting flesh.

The situation is this: you've just exterminated a Bane and, instead of a medal, you find yourself with a buffet of rotting equines in the snow, serving as a platform for your existential dilemma. And, of course, the first thing that comes to mind is not a lament for lost humanity, but rather a profound thought like "Hmm, this meat smells nice, should I become the new chef of Chernobyl?" A brilliant idea for those who think that "in nature nothing is lost, everything is transformed" could be the new philosophy of the new Garou era.

Oh, but let's get straight to the point: the Litany. These are the rules you learned about not eating human flesh! A sort of moral code that, let's face it, is the last thing anyone should rely on when the world is on the brink of collapse. and you decide to experiment with highly suspect beef dessert. The truth is that the Litany is as outdated as a vinyl record in the age of streaming: a relic in the midst of the apocalypse that makes you wonder if the Garou ancestors were really on the front lines or just sitting in their comfortable armchairs while the world burned.

But what if it wasn't a human? Oh, sure, for the proponents of interdimensional vegetarianism, "we can't eat meat that has a dark past." Meanwhile, the horse, now a former Olympian of "stuffed" repetitions, lay there like a trophy that you may or may not take home. You can just imagine the poor beast's resume: "Dodging a Bane and getting eaten by a Garou. Great teamwork!"

And while your Garou friends would roll their eyes and say "Yuck!" When you see yourself playing gourmet with the corpse, you have the audacity to completely ignore tradition and simply ask what might be better: a feast with mafic spices or gathering information to protect these defenseless Indians who are already as lost as salad dressing at a party intervention?

In any case, what you really want here is not to satisfy your cannibalistic rage; what your heart really desires is to know if there are more of these "fomori" roaming around, ready to ruin your next Garou cooking class. And why not? The real challenge lies not in devouring the flesh, but in discovering the secrets hidden under the hood of a ghost horse.

In short, between devouring a horse and learning about creatures that may very well run (or crawl) to the next village, the decision is simple: forget the Laws of Gaia and make room for what really matters. Because, after all, why not tackle life's big questions while chewing on some Equi-flesh flavored with the world's own ruin?

Now, if there's anyone out there with a good restaurant open on Sundays, please let me know. Once I've finished investigating the horse, I'll be ready to discuss whether we can turn this "but what do you eat?" into a sentence that could go down well in good company. After all, the apocalypse can have its glamour too!