With a grumble, Mark kicked open the front door of his shack, hunting rifle in hand and a Bowie knife on his belt. His pale green eyes scanning the fields ahead of him, the hubub of the city behind him. He'd spent all night trying to decide whether he was going to find himself food, or go out and buy it, at 4AM, he'd had the bright Idea to go out, so, that's what he was going to do. Checking the rifle one last time he set out, lifting the barrel and resting it over his shoulder.<br/><br/>Whistling a merry tune within minutes, he set his sights on the small woods a mile out, the city behind him and his shack, yet, it was quieter than normal, what exactly was going on, he didn't know, all he knew, was that he was hungry.<br/><br/>[Sorry it's short and lame... Not much I can do with my huntsman until we knew there are zombies about... Planning his first encounter in those woods, so, y'know.]