Can’t run anymore. Leg is broken. Too far…
I’ve seen him, seen the Jack. Seen his soulless eyes through the slits in the tattered mask.
They say he was the best, or at least thought he was. I’m no challenger, just a hiker on a two-day. No Challenge. Don’t think he cares.
Hear the clinking of the chain with that wicked hook at the end. Why not an ax?
What kind of man haunts the woods to find a challenge? Arrogant? Dangerous?
They say he was cheated. Not my business.
What is that?
Why not an ax?
I’m not OK.