Vasher stood, then pulled out the colorless scarf he had used earlier.  He tossed it over Vahr’s shoulder, then Breathed.
	He didn’t bother making the scarf have human shape, didn’t need to use a bit of his hair or skin for a focus--though he did have to draw the color from his shirt.
	Vasher met Vahr’s resigned eyes.
	“Strangle things,” Vasher Commanded, fingers touching the quivering scarf.
	It twisted immediately, pulling away a large--yet now inconsequential--amount of Breath.  The scarf quickly wrapped around Vahr’s neck, tightening, choking him.  Vahr didn’t struggle or gasp, he simply watched Vasher with hatred until his eyes bulged and he died.