A blast of wind peels my lips back. I tuck my poles into my arms and crouch lower, increasing my speed. Behind me, a dozen vegans are in pursuit, intent on tarring and feathering me for eating one of those delicious ski-lodge burgers back at the ski-lodge. Fortunately, they lack B12, and their spindly muscles are weak from years of incomplete proteins. I cut left, right, when suddenly I see like fifty of them block the path ahead of me. Three of them start whipping their 30 ft. long pony tails above their head like lassoes. Open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. Suddenly, twenty velociraptors are charging down the snow-covered slopes with me. Militant indignancy and weak-chinned self-righteousness are no match for razor-sharp talons and wicked fangs. I streak past the vegan barricade, entrails and organs arcing bright red trails through the crisp winter air.