I hear the footfalls of a man. I can tell he's close by but where exactly? Not a clue. The wind was snapping at what little area my face provided despite mine continuous efforts to pull the cloak tight. Under sub-zero conditions, who can stand it I ask you? Especially not with these thin layers of clothing. Serves me right for dressing lightly.
And a long, misty air of ghostly breath escaped my constricted lungs. Striking it was against the pure dark background of the night. Just as soon as it left my mouth, it left me altogether, joining the only source of light that evening - the half-moon - thus leaving me alone. Again.
Then, I heard it once more. The heavy steps of someone. A man by the sound of the shoe on wood. Slowly paced but constantly in rhythm almost as though he knew I was listening. Very vigilant too for as I stop, the sound was cut short.
Where? Where? Where could he be?
The world spun and turned and rolled and in that moment I caught the slightest of movement to my right. With a sharp jerk of hand and a finger trained to aim at first light, BANG! A wisp of white came forth. Not from my mouth but from the tip of a gun.
That's how you shoot. That, my friend, is point blank shot on the head. With a whip of cloak, I'm gone with the wind, gone into the darkness for another kill.