**Floyd - The Hunter, The Hunted**

The house's door creaked slightly as Floyd opened it. He looked back at the sleeping bodies who remained silent and unmoved. Closing it had the same effect, a short and sharp rasp coming from the hinges. Floyd made sure the door was closed sturdy then pulled his knife out, the tip pointing downward towards the ground. The sky seemed clear of clouds, but the large moon refrained from disappearing yet. It provided Floyd with a guiding light, illuminating the path before him. Floyd turned towards the vehicles, noticing the tires completely flat. He grunted at the sight, but now had to figure out in which direction the culprits went. He turned towards the street, not noticing anything suspicious or off the rail. He moved to the opposite sidewalk, looking at the grass for a possible trail. 

He crouched down and searched through the area. His eyes caught a glimpse of flat grass in the shape of a footstep. It was obvious they had gone somewhat in the direction the footsteps went. Floyd started to follow them and as he crossed the other street, he could still see the trail. Then they disappeared when he got to another house's driveway. His eyes widened a little trying to remember if there had been a car there when the group first arrived, and now that he thought of it, he believed there was. There was definitely a car there, meaning that whoever had done this had been keeping an eye on them since their arrival. But the track hadn't vanished completely as burned tire marks tainted the streets. 

They went north, meaning towards the center of the little town, possibly before they hit central or whatever was up there. Floyd was also certain that whoever had done this didn't want company around their place. And now it was obvious they were closing into wherever it was they stayed. This was going to get messy for sure because they had to continue north, but without vehicles and with future battle, luck didn't seem to be on their side. This was just the beginning, a message.