. . .

Maybe this goat thing is not on Hans. He tapes his own emus, after all, but the goat is sharpening itself.

Only — he doesn’t have to keep it there, in its enclosure in the dark. He doesn’t have to imprison it, and that imprisonment is what makes it sharp.

If he hadn’t caught it, if he had not kept it, then it would have killed its way across the continents. It would have been the pike-goat, the sene-goat, it would have slaughtered thousands and left its tracks across the earth, but then some dull bear would have gotten it, some hero, some champion. It would have ravaged but it would have died, before it had grown so sharp as this.

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