You were smart in that you always kept up with my movements one sanctuary at a time; marking each hideout I’d been to off on a master list of sanctuaries for the lost and forsaken. You later told me that you stayed so close on my heels by looking for pancaked spider corpses on the walls of the places you searched; I don’t know if I would’ve thought to do that. You knew me better than I knew myself, at all times.
You found me on a Thursday morning before the sun came up; you didn’t take any chances, and you treated me like you would treat any other escapee who pissed you off and took you on a wild goose chase, wasting your time. When I regained consciousness, I was already back in your display case, all squeaky clean and dressed in a starch-stiffened outfit with a smile painted over my mouth in bright red ink. And… the game started over from the beginning for the millionth time.