It was a chilly night. The clock ticked eight o'clock. John Silverarrow, a tall bald man unwrapped his sleep mask and woke up to the stark darkness of his room. He sat on the edge of the bed for two minutes; took a glass of water from the bedside desk and drank it. It was his routine. Then he walked around his bed thrice and kissed the silver cross that was hanging on his muscular chest. After freshening up he walked a mile on the trademill. Then he drank pomegranate juice and cooked an omlet for himself. After taking a hot bath he gulped the omlet down his system. Then he wore his pantaloons, a shirt, a leather jacket and his bow and arrows. Locking the doors went out of his house to the near by forest. He went to his regular practice point. There were red luminescent circles on tree trunks. To a normal man's eyes only the red luminescent circles were visible. A normal man would even imagine that those circles were drawn upon some tall planks or tree trunks inside the forest. Just that much. Nothing more. But John had dedicated his last ten years to being nocturnal. So he could see the plants, the leaves, differenciate different shades of black. He slept mostly in the day times or stayed restive in his darkened house. Then waking up at night he would practice shooting or hunt. This was all to familiarise his eyes with night and darkness. He had harnessed his other senses too. By meditating he had developed his olfactory and auditory senses too. By just hearing the rustle of leaves or breking of twigs on the forest ground he could guess the number of deers grazing or sleeping.