With the sound of a rifle firing, the Rake fell down, dead.

Hidden in the bushes 20 feet or so away, Storm chuckled.  The hunt was good today, even with this mist - there must have been a whole den of these creatures nearby.  Taking a sip of beer, he shifted the woodland ghillis suit he was wearing to get into a more comfortable position.  He remained absolutely silent - he had already learned from experience what would happen if he were to give his position away.

Scratching the claw-mark scars on his back, he grimaced, then grinned, remembering the hunt where he'd received those scars.  Man, what a hunt that had been - the number of Rake they must have killed that day.  Of course, he had also received several accidental shotgun scars from his partner, but it was still a good, fun hunt, nonetheless.

His thoughts were shattered by the sound of snapping branches.  Storm paused, listening; he looked through the scope, scanning his surroundings.  He almost jumped out of his suit as a second Rake emerged from the brush, charging right towards the corpse of the first Rake.  At first, Storm thought it was going to eat the corpse; Rake were known to do that.

"Hey Jared," Storm said, grinning.  "You seeing this?"

He looked to the side, where his companion usually sat by him.  Then he remembered.  His expression one of sadness, he looked back through the scope of his rifle, the Rake's head in his crosshairs, and was surprised by what he saw.

The soulless green eyes of the Rake - they were almost eyes of sadness.  After a few confusing seconds, Storm suddenly realized why.

I killed his partner, Storm thought.  He's a lone wolf.

Just like me.

He took his finger off the trigger, the weapon no longer aimed at the Rake's forehead.  Storm could feel the creature's sorrow - the same sorrow he felt now.  He lowered his weapon, no longer interested in hunting for today.

It's just not the same anymore, he thought.

Gathering up his equipment, he prepared to leave, before taking a last look at the empty spot where his teammate usually sat by his side.

"Until we meet again, old friend," he said to himself, walking away.

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