The Hunt.

He felt the blood rush to his head, adrenaline surging throughout his entire body as he toyed with his 'prey', a feeble young man around his late twenties - a priest, a believer in the Lord. His feet hit the uneven floor of the damp woods without the slightest falter as he sped through the trees, his heavy boots hitting the muddy ground so fast that the deep footprints they should have left were non-existent.

He loved the chase.

He was, without a doubt, much quicker and much stronger than any of his opponents, and he knew it. He got off on the fear that seeped through and cascaded out of every pore of his victim's bodies as they tried to flee from him. He enjoyed watching them stumble over the uneven ground beneath their feet and bludgeon themselves against broken tree branches as they attempted to escape, taking quick glances behind them with almost blind eyes as they fled.

He loved watching them struggle to make their escape, running for their lives - and he loved the snap of the bones in their neck beneath his bare hands when he finally caught them.

In those few moments, he was what he was meant to be. A predator, a hunter - a soldier.