Gar slunk through the shadows, finding non-existant places to hide. A throwing knife in an arm sheath and a dagger in his belt. His eyes darted to a gleam in the forest, the place his target lay. Swiftly he crept into the forest, not a twig snapped or a blade of grass broke, was this man human? Gar allowed himself a wry smile "never cry wolf", had just ran through his mind, He had earned the nickname wolf after killing a pack with his hands. Swiftly the throwing knife dropped into his hand, blade first, 'snap' a twig had broken,, but it wasn't him . Crouching low he waits and watches, his job must be done, but the night is still young.
A tall arrogant looking man walks out of the bushes, unaware of Wolfs green eyes staring at him, he calculates the distance and lifts his arm, the knife makes no sound as it burries itself in the mans throught, his eyes still open, looking stunned he falls backwards into the shadows.
A light flickers in the cabin, with insane speed, he averts his eyes from the dead man to the window, a shadow passes over the window, then blackness. Wolf blinks once, more animal-like than ever in the dark, he prowls up to the door, and waits crouched down beside it, ready to pounce, waiting until he hears the gentle snoring of the man he is to kill. Quietly he stands up, checks his dagger and retrieves his knife. Wolf watches, almost mezmerized as the moonlight glints off the bloodied sharpened part of the blade, ten inches of blued Damaskus steel, razor sharp, perfectly balanced, and made to kill, a handle of black, rubber coated steel, made for absorbing shock, it truly is a weapon of death! Silently he cuts three slices in the mans cheek to match his own scar, his sign. Gar made his way back to the cabin, his instincts straining for the slightest movement of the sleeping man, for this was the most crutial moment of tonight, once in the cabin, he would melt in with the deathly shadows. The door opened silently as the killer moved in. Gar slid the knife back into the arm sheath and drew the dagger, eight inches of steely black death!
As wolf pads into the dark shadows, he decides on a quick death, the man would not know he had been killed. His mind set, he stalked towards where the man was sleeping. Just as he raised the dagger, he caught a glimpse of his left cheek, three pearly white scars, making the shape feared all over the world, he remembered the broken promise of the only person he trusted, the reason why he was doing this. With a hint of a smile on his face, he slit the mans throught, and slit his mark into the mans left cheek. After he closed the door he took out a note, and a small throwing knife, not even two inches long and tacked the note to the door. If you read the note it would read "You should be careful that those you kill stay dead, my friend! Here is the knife that you used to cut your mark, I took as mine, the three slashes." There was no signature at the bottom, but in its place, were three slashes, written in fresh blood.
His job done, the green eyed Wolf evaporated into the shadows of the night.
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