countryside so there were now thousands of them roaming around. He’d never finish the job. A few hours out here to gather a few more chunks of information, more meat and potatoes into his mental stew, would get him away from the drawings and lists so he could let it all blend together he felt. Give some time to the creative subconscious slow cooker.
He scans the crowd looking for the pack leader and after some careful examination spots him standing off centre of the herd, only distinguishable by a slight look of awareness in his expression. These types of kills were the ones he savoured. Precise and purposeful. Sniping was an art form in itself.
He’s lying face down on a short hill overlooking the town he has a nice view of things and it gives