Masochism in the Bayou

Hunt: Showdown almost paralyses me with fear, but I can’t get enough

You’re crouching at the edge of the water. There’s a large barn ahead of you, just over a shallow rise. The Butcher’s pacing in there, dragging his rusty meat hook through the straw. He’s your target. A row of tupelos stands between you and the barn. Their spindly tapering trunks are a lower jaw full of rotten…