In an isolated shack, surrounded by a dead wood, lived John Beckett. The hunter had been staring at the roaring fire when the alarms sounded, even on the outskirts of town the faint warning breaking the usually natural silence had been deafening. Most of the birds and animals avoided the immediately surrounding wood. John preferred it that way, alone and undisturbed.<br/><br/>The town’s recluse had a well set build, a thin layer of stubble and a faint scar down his right cheek. Amber eyes were alert at all times, and shoulder length brown hair rested upon a thick green jacket and belted tanned jeans. Underneath a grey t-shirt, was a silver locket, possible the most valued possession he had, and so it was never far from his chest.<br/><br/>Grabbing the familiar hunting rifle, within seconds he was out the door. He lived apart from the town but he would protect it with his life, with no hesitation. The former park ranger made his way through the forest to the commotion he could hear forming at the river’s edge. John didn’t hunt past the river often, on the other side lay nothing but death and nature perverted. People thought he was crazy enough to even think about going past the town’s border, though it wasn’t danger that kept him settled here, it was knowing that this town and these good people wouldn’t be safe forever.<br/><br/>There were too many people ahead. The crowd was too big now. Why when the unseen came calling did people cluster around it? There was no great safety in numbers, to the hunter’s way of thinking there was safety in distance and keeping a clear head. Putting his knife between his teeth he began scaling the tallest tree, a safe distance from it, overlooking the back of the large gathering. Something didn’t smell right, he loved this town but they were too trusting of strangers, a trait that had lost him his wife and child not two years before.<br/><br/>John swung his legs over a large stem of the tree, bringing his rifle to rest on a branch and pointing it at the small boat. The cold air of the night settled the acute senses of the hunter. Nobody knew why he lived alone, and few knew that he once had a family; he liked to keep it that way because people had enough to worry about in their own lives.<br/>