Hands on hips, I stare out across the fields. I suck in the cold, new air. The pathetic orange morning light is all that is illuminating the hills. No pollution, and no towns for miles. The air is fresh, clear, natural. The cold chill doesn't bother me, even though I am not wearing much; only a tee shirt and camo shorts. It will warm up in a few hours anyway. A delicate mist coats the tops of the hills, shrouding my ankles in mystery so I can't see my battered training shoes. I always loved being alone, and now I truly can be in my solitary peace. Energy pumps through my veins and blood surges around my body. I tense in the bitter cold.



*        *        *



A scraggy figure stood on the misty hills in the pre-dawn light. He held himself proud, tall, confident. A defiant flash came to his eyes, as the lonely figure studied his surroundings. He had long brown hair and a scent to light fires in the brain. His hair was messy, like his clothes. All of a sudden he tensed up and leapt down the hill, one bound taking him down to the bottom, an impossible feat. Inhuman. His powerful legs pumped and his feet pounded the ground powerful, thick muscles bunching up, feet slamming down with some considerable force, although not making much noise, he ran fast and hard into the growing light.



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