Clyde looked back briefly to receive a branch to his face. He flipped, and slammed his back on a protruding root. A curse and scream of anguish left him rolling in pain as he tried to clutch both his face an back as he tumbled in piles of dead leaves. 

A gasp and cold shock ran through his chest as he pushed on through the woods. Dodging tree limbs for the sake of life, he ran.

The logic of the anons words crashed headfirst into the solid fear running amok in Clyde’s mind. The match-up was simple and blind fright overcame any other sense as he decided, for one final time, to leave the farm behind.

“Because! Eh!” He tossed the axe at the source of sound and blasted through door. Splinters and wood shards stabbed themselves into his skin as he found himself running, yet again.

“I know you things! Cooking up trouble for decent folk! Messing with people’s lives! Leave me alone! Celestia help me, I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“I’m busy worrying with something!” He fumed as he swung his axe out to strike whatever.

“Hallucination!” he barked up. “Too much … gas in the dirt! There are caves underground with fumes or something!” Struggling with an explanation, his mind rushed itself to justify what he had once seen.

“I saw them toss her goddamn bones into that hole in the ground! She’s dead and I know it!” He shivered at the mentioning of the belt as he huddled closer to the corner.

“The hag’s dead!” He insisted. “Dead and never coming back! Get away from me! I’m poor!”

He started swinging his axe frantically as his eyes zoomed around the room. “I’m just a poor farmer! Leave me alone!”