Darkest Days and Longest Nights

White Rabbit

Maureen Marshall

This is the first time that I’ve been outside of the city in more than a year. Since I fled the farmstead, and left the entire flock to that beast. I knew, as I walked the streets of Minneapolis, that the monsters existed there too. I saw a thing or two. It’s inescapable, and now I’m back in the brush, hunting more dangerous prey. I feel more at peace here than I ever did in the city. The monster running around here certainly doesn’t make me feel any darned good, but I’m tired of running scared. I’m terrified as I’m hunting it, but at least I’m taking control. I’m fighting back. Daddy didn’t raise a girly girl, he sure didn’t. I was hunting bucks by the time I was 9. I’ve had about thirty five years of practice. I just have to think about this like hunting bear, which I’ve done too. The hunter can become the hunted. Have to stay aware, keep your eyes open and your ears trained for signs of what it is you’re hunting. So long as you know about it before it knows about you, that’s good hunting. Of course, we didn’t really go into the bear’s den. But Daddy didn’t raise a coward, either. I know what’s right, and we can’t just let this thing keep taking people. It just ain’t right. There’s no telling how many people will lose their lives if we just walk away from this thing. I just don’t think I could handle the guilt of walking away from these guys and leaving them to do it themselves. So it’s time for me to get myself together. I’m tired of being the prey, running like some scared rabbit. No, we’re going to follow this thing into it’s den and see about doing away with it.



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