Courage cannot not kill it.
Even now, that emaciated mass of gnarled fur and huge, crushing teeth flits through shadows on long, spindling legs. It stalks, ever-hungry, where the forest overtakes the old, straight roads. Like limp spines, the lost weapons and tangled bones of too many brave men hang knotted in its hair.
It is a fearsome thing made to reap fear. Fear feeds it.
Only reckless surety could harm it. Only madness can save you now.