There was a metallic tang on the air that clung to the back of her throat. The evening was already heavy with the scents of earth and hay, the scents native to the place she called home, but a sourness lurked underneath it.
Judy sensed this as she stood alone on the back porch, gazing out across the fields of Bunnyburrow as the last wisps of twilight bled into night. It had been years since she'd visited the farm during Harvest Festival, and the place held a quiet she wasn't used to. Her family had already turned in for the night, anticipating the work around the farm that needed to be routinely done tomorrow, but she felt drawn to the stillness of the night. Pulled toward those inky shadows that lay beyond the barn and tree line.
A shiver worked its way up her spine.
The Burrow Watcher, she thought suddenly.
As a kit, she'd been haunted by her grandmother's tales of the Burrow Watcher—a ghostly figure said to roam the fields on nights when the Harvest Moon was high, keeping a watchful, silent vigil over the warren. Her grandmother had sworn the figure demanded respect from the Hopps family and from any who dared wander out past the fields on certain moonlit nights.
And among those particular nights was this one. Not only was Bunnyburrow hosting its annual celebration of the Fall Harvest, but it was also Halloween. All Hallows' Eve, if others chose to call it that. The night in which the more religious folk around the Tri-Burrows knew as the day in which certain spirits, the kind lacking good intentions, could seemingly roam free.
Judy had always thought it was just another story, a rural tale to keep young kits close to home, to ward off mischief. Every smaller town or area had its own myth or tall tale that was locally spread around, and she was always certain that this was just one that belonged to Bunnyburrow. But now, standing there in the dark with the moon's cold light falling across the fields, it didn't feel like another story to keep misbehaving kits from disrespecting their parents.
Tonight, Bunnyburrow was alive with whispers she couldn't place, shadows stretching longer than they should.
And the wind that blew around… it wasn't right.
The doe turned to go inside, dismissing the story as nothing more than exactly that, a tale meant for children. That was, however, when she truly felt it—a presence that stopped her mid-step. Judy's heart skipped. A figure stood just beyond the tree line, barely visible, blending into the shadows yet unmistakable. She squinted, willing herself to look away but unable to resist. The figure was tall and slender, its shape indeterminate, shifting as if cloaked in fog, with eyes that glinted like polished stones, catching every scrap of moonlight and reflecting it back. It raised its arm, slowly, acting as if it were calling her forward. And in the light of the Harvest Moon, Judy could see the faintest imprint of a pawprint in the dirt further out in the distance. Her breath caught in her throat. It was enormous—far larger than any normal mammal's.
She wanted to look away, to believe it was just her mind playing tricks, but she was rooted in place, each second dragging on with a suffocating weight. The gaze of the Burrow Watcher, right there in the flesh, seemed to hold her still. The cool gleam in those eyes staring back her way were sharp and probing, stripping away her grown-up sensibilities until she felt like a frightened kit once more.
The Watcher didn't move. The world around him seemed suspended, the air itself heavy, thickened, as if waiting for something to shift. In her pocket, her phone buzzed loudly, shattering the silence. Startled, Judy tore her eyes from the figure and fumbled to answer. She saw the word Grandma lit up on her screen, and her paw shook as she brought it to her ear.
"H-Hello?" she whispered shakily, her voice barely carrying into the phone.
"Judy," her grandmother's voice came through, low and urgent, as though she'd been waiting to speak. "Are you outside?"
Judy's fur stood on end. "Yes. But… how did you know?"
Her grandmother's pause on the other end was like a cold shiver down her spine. "I felt it. It's the Harvest Moon, child. He comes to watch the fields… and the Hopps who... owe him."
The word hung in the air like a curse.
Owe?
The voice on the other end of the phone was faint, but it pushed on. "Judy, do not go near him."
The words made no sense to the rabbit as she listened. "Gran, it's just a story, right? He's just…"
Her grandmother's voice, suddenly stronger, cut her off. "No. The Burrow Watcher hasn't been seen in years, not since my mother's time. But if he's come for you… he hasn't forgotten. He never forgets. Don't you remember the stories I told you when you were younger?"
Judy's heart thudded, and she glanced back toward the trees. The figure was still there, closer than before. She felt its gaze press upon her, cold and sharp as ice. "Gran, where are you?" Judy asked, her voice trembling.
Her grandmother hesitated, her voice faint and broken when she finally replied, "I've been keeping watch from the old cabin… at the edge of the property. The Watcher's always been near me… but if he's calling you now, there's no time left."
The knot of unease in her stomach twisted tighter. "What do you mean, no time?"
"Your grandfather owed him a debt, Judy… He took a blessing, a promise that the Watcher would guard our fields in times of trouble, but there was a price. For generations, someone's had to watch for him, honor him on nights like this one… and now, you're the only one left to do it."
A cold dread settled over Judy as she slowly backed toward the house, never breaking eye contact with the figure at the edge of the field. He seemed to shimmer now, not quite real but not quite shadow. "Gran, please… I don't know what to do."
"Leave him be," her grandmother whispered, voice shaking, as though every word cost her strength. "Go back inside and don't turn back. Don't look into his eyes. But remember this, Judy: you carry our family's promise. Honor it. Or he may come to take you, too."
Judy clutched the phone just as the call was suddenly ended between the two of them. She began moving slowly back to the door, her eyes that were previously locked on the shadowed figure turning away as her grandmother said for her to do. But even though she didn't stare back at it directly anymore, its appearance was etched freshly in the back of her mind. Its stance was somehow impossibly tall and imposing, cloaked in a darkness that seemed to draw the light from the world around it.
Darting back inside, she locked the door behind her without hesitation. She pressed her back against it, the chill of the night air lingering on her fur, her heart racing as she strained to listen for any movement outside.
The phone in her grasp chimed softly, startling her once more.
She looked down and found a single message waiting: Returned.
Her paws shook as she read it again, feeling the weight of the word pressing down on her, the old warning echoing in her mind. The Burrow Watcher was not a ghost, nor a spirit that could simply be forgotten. He was something else, something that was seemingly bound to the land. Something unfathomable that was attached to these long-spanning acres in which the family burrow had been built upon.
She didn't dare look outside again, not as she heard the slow, deliberate scrape of something heavy trailing across the porch, pausing just behind the door, and then fading into silence.
When she finally found the courage to peek through the window, the figure was gone. But etched into the dirt by the tree line, as though dragged by an unseen paw, was a word that hadn't been there before—a message only for her:
Remember.
Author's Note: Well, here we are, everybody: The obligatory scary story to celebrate the spookiest holiday there is! Now usually I'd go about coming up with something that was a combination of both silly and scary, but this time I decided to just go with something on the scary end of things. My writing skills definitely need some polishing after being pretty absent, but hopefully this did an okay job at being at least somewhat eerie of a read.
Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed this little story. Your thoughts, whether good or bad, are, as always, gladly appreciated.
'Til next time, folks! :)
