Marked

WHAT BEASTS LUCK IN THE MINDS OF MAN? He stood in the shadows of the forest as he had for countless nights in his past, drinking in the sounds and scents of the night. The smell of rotten leaves, dirt, pine, and cedar on the frosty air seemed to invigorate him. How much joy it gave him to hear the owls and mourning doves calling through the canopy of the trees. He moved soundlessly over the dry dead forest floor, ever alert to the occasional flutter of wings as an owl took flight. For these woods had been his hunting grounds for ten years now. Here was the one place where he could truly relax and unleash his natural desires completely, and often he came here from dusk till dawn, for just that purpose. And each time was rejuvenating for him. Like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon for many weeks, spreading its wings at last.