Cold grey eyes stare through

The dark menacing maze of forest

Months since the last time

He walked these woods

In the distance he hears the young man he follows

Now blinded and tripping over roots

With bound hands and muddy blindfold

His big box store shirt torn and ragged

Dressed for work and not ready for his grave

The traveler knows these woods

His footing as sure

As the knowledge of what comes next

The young man runs a crisscross path of terror

And for once the traveler walks the straight and narrow

He follows excitedly, delighted in the hunt

Along that path they travel

Separated only by his victims fear and snarled terrain

A scream echoes suddenly in the distance

And trails away

The cliff came sooner

Than the young man could have known

As the traveler gazes down from its sharp edge

To the young man’s last earthly moments

Then the traveler is on the move again