An applied field guide to contamination after Tindalosian contact
Mercer never saw the thing again.
He changed trains seven times. He paid cash, threw away his clothes, shaved his head, and would only sleep in rooms whose corners he could smother with pillows. He stopped using his own name and he never went home. Three weeks later a landlady in Prague found him folded into an angle far too small to hold a man.
Everyone assumed the Hound had followed him. But the trail worth studying did not end with Mercer at all. It ended with his sister, back home, who still had the letter he had written to explain why he ran.
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