Dark is a mysterious thing. It conceals and protects; especially the shadows. You know they’re out there. They glide across the ground, barely perceptible. You sit tight, hoping one stops long enough to set the crosshairs. “Are they watching me, too?” You wait.

One screams. You take position not knowing what it means. “Is it a war cry? Do they think they can win?” A shadow flickers across your field of vision. “Damn, he’s fast.” You finger the trigger. “Did he stop?” The darkness makes it hard to tell. You think you see him, but you’re unsure. You pull the trigger anyways. The shadow falls.

If you notched your gun, this would be number seven. Tomorrow, when he is a rat, you’ll throw him on the burn pile, but tonight you leave him for all his shadow friends to see.