The celebration was all but a blur. A victory for our species, as slow and steady won the race, and to celebrate, we all figuratively drank until the well ran dry. My family and friends all laughed, cried, and cheered, for there was nothing that could beat us. Or so I thought. I had woken up in complete darkness, bound in the air by my arms; the hangover was the least of my pains. There was silence; the aftermath of rain left leaves dripping with water. I didn't dare to speak, for who was out there might be waiting. I was helpless; all I could think of was my family and my friends. In front of me, further down from what I could see, a small fire flickered to life. One became many, for each lit to life and grew bigger as the row of fire came closer. My heart beat through my chest with each collection of twigs snapping and leaves crunching grew louder. I was out of my shell. They lined up in front of me. A dozen, dressed in robes, had their faces covered by cloth masks. Slits were cut up top so their ears protruded, sticking above to reveal who they were. Hares. "Why are you doing this?" I demanded. But only the crackling of the fires and night crawlers around answered. They all stared at me—hungry, like I was the berries they would feast on. No response was needed; the hares lit the bonfire behind them. My surroundings suddenly lit up from the fire, and I could only beg for the darkness again. My family, friends, all hung lifelessly above me. Blood dripping onto the ground, still fresh from their deaths. Mom and Dad must've been first, for they had none to offer the soils of the land. One speaks out, giving orders to those around them. "Lower him," and for a moment, I wondered if my legs would even have the strength to keep me up, but I didn't touch the ground. The one who gave the order walked closer to me, and I knew already it was him. "You should've just let me win; this would've all been easier," he spat out at me. The fire next to him wasn't strong enough to warm the cold, dead look in his eyes. "Now, we hares will restore order as the fastest in the lands." Before I could say anything else, call him crazy, for it was just a race, he revealed a knife under his cloak, and with one motion, sliced me across my throat. My chest felt the warmth of my blood moments after. "Take him back to his family." I ascended. Higher than before, I passed my brothers, my friends, until I stopped by my mother and father. The hares chanting in choirs was the last thing I would hear. Slow and steady, until it all went black.

“Can we open our eyes yet?” Jane whispered, hoping her brother was still next to her as she knelt on the cold autumn dirt. Dried twigs dug into her kneecaps and wet leaves made it feel even more uncomfortable. “Jake?” she whispered, starting to get nervous, but that’s when she tried to force down the rising panic and feel for him. She didn’t feel for him with her hands, she merely calmed herself to the point where she’d feel the connection. Ever since they were born a few minutes apart, it was like there was an invisible bond between them, he’d know when she was in trouble and vice versa. As long as she was calm, she could feel him. “Why can’t I feel you?” she whispered. There had been a low rustling sound, the shuffling of feet on this dirt floor. She knew they were in a forest. Jake and she had met their friend Ted on the outskirts. He was the one who had spoken to them right after school and they trusted him because he was in ninth grade, high school, and they were still in eighth in their last year of junior high. He had promised them that they could join the white rabbits, a super-secret high school click. No one really talked about the white rabbits. It wasn’t a recognized school club or activity, but the moment they had come to junior high the rumors started. They talked about a mystical white rabbit that was their mascot, and it gave them special gifts. If you were a white rabbit, you always got A’s in tests, always were the star players in every sport, lead vocalist in the school musicals, honor society in academics. You only got in if a member invited you. Whispers called them warlocks, witches, maybe even a cult. But every kid wanted to be chosen, and this was the first time she’d heard of any junior high kids being invited. They had met Ted. He blindfolded them both and led them into the forest that was next to the school. It wasn’t a long walk, but they had been told to kneel and wait to be called upon to see if they were worthy. “Run,” she heard her brother whisper. “Jake?” “Jane,” he repeated, this time louder but still a whisper in her ear. “Run, and don’t look back.” As quietly as she could, she pulled her blindfold down just a bit. They were all in a circle facing something, tall figures wearing robes and creepy bunny masks with tall ears. She glanced quickly around, but Jake wasn’t there. “Blood gives life,” they began to chant quietly. “Run!” This time Jake didn’t whisper. Backing up a bit, she slowly stood as quiet as she could Then she saw what they were looking at. Jake was on the ground surrounded by them. There was something on his chest, covered in blood. Jake’s blood. It was a white rabbit. She ran.

The chief druid liked to call himself ‘Merlin’, he’d read it in a book that it was the official title for people in his position, his real name was Derek. The Mad March Hares was a rather whimsical name for the group that his girlfriend, Theresa, had come up with, it sounded ‘folkloric’. She indulged this new hobby for Derek and his little amateur dramatics group. The long ears that she had stitched and starched for their robes were her own addition; which she thought looked rather affecting in the moonlight. In their gratitude for her input, and crafting, it was decided that she should be the first sacrifice. Of course it had been a terrible shock for her when they had actually tied her to the pudding stone in the woods, but they were gentle and so she laughed it off with the rest of them. None of the neo-druids really knew what they were doing but the ‘Merlin’ had seen a few videos on-line, and the local hippy shop had ordered some books in for him. Some of these, however, had been on the darker end of the new-age scale, admittedly. The amateur dramatics group were all fired up and keen. They had praised the winds from all four corners; they had given thanks to Gaia for her bountiful harvest, carefully prepared for them and sold by the supermarket in town. Finally they sought to honour the green man of the woods. The Hunter required blood upon the altar stone, or the closest rock that they could find. In the cold dark equinox night they shivered, naked under their robes. As humbling as it was, Derek still hoped that he would have his choice of the followers in the after-ritual party. Theresa had been less keen on the idea of an orgy, but Derek was very modern like that and assured her that he loved her, regardless of who he had sex with that night. The biggest surprise was when the first of the acolytes brought the knife down and it plunged deep into Theresa’s stomach. He had been told that it was a prop knife from ‘Wardrobe’, but blood sprayed up and over his stark white robes. Some of it nearly reached the tips of his ears. The would-be druid screamed, and turned to face the others. Crimson rain had fallen on the nearest who had were just realising the reality of the night. Derek had given them a real knife, not a fake one with a retractable blade. This wasn’t play acting but real. The congregation screamed and ran. Theresa’s voice rasped as blood choked her throat, and ran from her mouth and exposed guts. Derek thought she looked pretty like that and hoped that the gods agreed. Wide eyed he stared around the clearing, now empty of druids. He wondered, was everyone so surprised. It was in the script.