Ten thirty-two.

I'm moving the bureau in front of the old door now. Its white paint has been chipping away since the first day I'd seen it. No matter how many times I lock it or nail it shut, it still opens. Entrances to the hedge are like that. Some sort of magic to it. Likes to invite people into it, gets you nice and lost. Might never come back out again.

That's why I am here. I have to make sure this thing doesn't take any more victims.

It has already taken me once.

That awful night is still fresh in my mind. What the Hunter did to me. How he'd taken me. He'd tricked me into being here. Close to this entrance. Then he'd dragged me away to be his quarry.

But I'd gotten away, and I am going to make sure nobody else goes through this thing.

Once I have blocked the closet so there isn't easy access to it, I check the fuse box. It is in the basement, and I set it so that half the fuses are tripped. They'd only get power in the rooms I want them to.

Nate was probably at a party by now, spreading rumors of this place for me.

I open my backpack and pull out the plastic mask the Ministry had given me. It is a White Bunny Mask. I assume it is some kind of joke amongst them.

Probably because I look like a rabbit.

Plus I use the name Jack Hare for my legend. I'd helped Nate spread rumors of a serial killer who'd lived in town by that name, and Nate and the Ministry have been perpetrating the lie ever since.

There has to be a legend in order for this to work.

It is getting late; I should wrap up what I am doing and hide my car. I start my car up and drive it down the road, parking it the forest, about a mile away from the house. I pull out my backpack and start walking.

It was another hunt, and I had gotten a solid start. I remember seeing Buddy lopped off in the opposite direction, lumbering like the bear of a man he was. I'd made it ahead of everyone, and could hear the horns sounding behind me. The Hunter and his men had given us a twenty minute head start. Maybe a half an hour. Not very sportsman-like of them.

I ducked under branches, darted through bushes and over roots. I managed to find a little hollow in-between a dozen or so trees to catch my breath.

My ears twitched as I heard something move overhead. I craned my neck back and saw small, rodent-like features staring down at me.

Gordon tried to climb higher. I hadn't seen him since the last hunt.

"Gordon! Gordon, it's me!" I whispered.

I heard a snap as a branch gave way. I managed to cushion Gordon's fall, halfway catching and halfway falling over with him in my arms.

It was a stupid risk to try to catch him. I could have sprained an ankle or something.

I rolled him off of me.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you!" he chittered at me, climbing to his knees, dusting himself off. He asked, "How far behind you is the Huntsman?"

I groaned as I climbed up. "Maybe half an hour. We should get moving!"

He nodded at me and chattered a bit more while I began searching around the trees for hiding spaces.

"Am I happy you're here!" He said, "I've been out here for a few weeks and I haven't had anyone to talk to."

I gestured for him to follow as I slowly walked out of the hollow. He slunk behind me, chattering as we slowly drew further away from the sounds of the hunt.

We'd apparently chosen the right direction, because the hounds kept getting softer and more distant. After a while the only sound was Gordon.

"Boy, I thought I was halfway back to the normal world by now! I could have sworn I'd made a good amount of distance between me and those guys. I ran for days, I swear! But here I am, right back in the hunt again, aren't I? Doesn't that just figure?"

His voice dropped off for a while as he tried to catch his breath from keeping up with me.

I found the river that ran through the forest, at an area where the banks were less treacherous. We stopped for a drink. We scooped up handfuls of water into our parched mouths.

There was no longer any sound of pursuit.

Gordon tittered on. "Boy, oh boy, am I tired! I should find me a soft bush to curl up in or something! I think there's a nice fruit tree near here somewhere. I ate a feast of them a few days ago! Maybe we could find it-"

I cut in. "No. We have to keep moving. We aren't being chased right now; we should take advantage of that."

Gordon made a huffing noise.

We walked for an hour or so before we found a fallen tree that crossed the river. I shimmied across it, and Gordon came along shortly after. We continued our trek for some time, Gordon chatting all the way.

"I wonder how far to the normal world. Hey, I ever tell you how I was taken?"

"Yes."

"Oh, but it's a good story! How my car crashed and I had to climb out of the passenger window… Accidentally stumbled into some weird house nearby-"

"Gordon, we need to keep our minds on track here."

"Well, talking helps me think!"

"Fine. If you must. Just don't make a noise if we start to hear the hunt again."

"Ah, don't worry about me! I can be quiet as a dormouse."

I kept walking.

"Like a few hunts ago," he said, "I was hiding in a tree, like I was earlier. But it was a much better tree then. Anyways, I was hiding and not moving around, until that fox girl started climbing the same tree I was in!"

I froze. My ears perked up.

"Can you believe that? The hounds were right on her and she was climbing my tree! I tried to shoo her away, but she kept trying to get on my branch."

I turned to face him.

"But the hounds were close," he said. "I couldn't let them find us…"

He trailed off as he realized I was looking at him.

"Tilly?" I said. "You saw Tilly?"

"Well… Yes. I just… She was climbing my tree and I was afraid that the hunters might find me…"

I felt my chest tighten as he trailed off a second time. "Gordon? Where is Tilly?"

He began to fidget with his fingers. He stammered a little. "Sh-she just k-kind of, I kicked her away from my branch, and sh-she just… sort of fell down."

My fists tightened. I loomed miles over Gordon as he shrunk. I bellowed, grabbing him by his dirty clothes. "What happened to her? Tell me!"

Gordon almost shouted, "The hounds got her! Then the Huntsman came and gathered her up! You don't understand! I could have been caught! He would have k-killed me!"

My rage poured over him. "So you killed a little girl instead?"

He began clawing at my hands to free himself, the miserable wretch. His beady eyes glared in terror, with his voice stuttering and his brow sweaty. He tried to explain away what he did.

But I was tired of hearing him talk.

My thumbs found their way around his windpipe, and my fingers wrapped around his neck, squeezing and gripping.

He sputtered. The fact that he could still make sounds was offensive.

He let a little girl die…

I dragged him down to the ground, and as I kneeled over him, pressed my hands down harder.

He could have given me away….

My hands ached more than they had ever ached before. I felt his skin practically oozing between my fingers.

He'd kept talking…

He stopped making sound. But the job wasn't done. I continued to squeeze until he stopped moving. And then I squeezed harder.

He'd let a little girl die.

I squeezed and wrenched and strangled until I heard a pop. I had dug my fingernails into his neck, leaving bloody crescents on the sides of his throat.

I let go of his limp body, and I wept.

I'd never cried since coming here. But now it all came out.

I started running.

I ran faster and harder than I had ever thought I could. I ran through the night. I couldn't feel the exhaustion.

After the first night, I only stopped running to sleep and eat whatever food I found… which wasn't much. I just ran and ran. Hoping to find my way out, that the hunt wasn't after me. I don't know how many days I ran, but I eventually wound up in valleys of thorns, following narrow corridors and cracks in the spiked carapace overhead. I wondered if Buddy had made it this far.

I kept remembering the room I was taken in. An old house on the outskirts of town. The closet door had flung open and the hunter had dragged me away. I couldn't even remember why I had been there, but I remembered what he did to me. I desired nothing more than to go back to that room, to that house. To never have cross that threshold. To change what had happened that night.

It was possibly weeks before I found the door. My desire had lead me here. It was a simple door with cracked white paint sitting in the middle of a thorny forest. My fingers trembled as I reached for the familiar knob… and I opened it.

Eleven Forty-Five.

I'm sitting in a closet, holding my plastic mask in one hand and turning my hunting knife over in the other. I'd thought of a straight razor, or a sickle instead… but they were mostly slashing weapons. I liked a good jab. The knife had been a gift from Ted.

I can hear the front door opening now. My heart starts pounding as my stomach does a backflip.

They're here. Just like the Scarecrow Ministry had said.

The college students are no doubt a little drunk or stoned by now. It's almost midnight on Halloween. How else would they be getting the courage to go adventuring in a ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere?

I breathe deep. Remind myself that this is for a purpose. They are going to be the first and hopefully last victims to my legend. My legacy.

I slip the plastic mask on, and I feel it contort and shape itself to my face. I can't see a mirror, but I know the face is an eerie and dead-looking rabbit head.

Magic. I'll never get used to it.

I hear laughter downstairs, making its way further south. If they went to the basement first that might give me an opportunity to lock the front door. If what the ministry said was right, there are five of them. I have to make sure all but one remain. One survivor.

One story teller.

Someone has to tell the story of Jack Hare. How they survived, where the others died at the hands of a masked maniac.

Someone has to tell others that what they do has consequences. Even if you don't feel them right away, what you do matters. If you put yourself or others in unnecessary danger, you are a threat to the safety of your community. When you wander off the beaten path, you'll find death. You'll find terror. You'll find boogeymen.

You'll also find me.

I'll sneak up silently, and slit your throat, cut out your heart, and put it on display. You'll be a message for all to see.

Believe me, it's a mercy compared to what the Others would do.

Don't laugh at the old stories; they find you much funnier and far less impressive.

They could steal you away in the night, take you from your bed and make you their prisoner, their prey, their toy. These monsters are real, and the danger is severe. You could end up like me. Or Tilly.

But if I find you first, you'll end up like Gordon.

Author Notes: Thanks to OllieLemur for editing.

This is my first fanfiction; feedback would be greatly appreciated, even if it was just to tell me you read it!

Thanks for reading. Please leave comments; it lets me know what you like, so I can write more of that. Hope you liked Cameron as much as I do! - Scrapmask

("Changeling: The Lost" setting is copyright to White Wolf Publishing. I thank them for letting me play in their world! All praise to the White Wolf! All characters in this story are original.)