A man lay down on a damp forest ground, it was dark, but the blue moonlight gave sufficient lighting. He looked around, still lying on the floor. His face showed clear signs of fear, but his eyes were full of determination.
With the coast clear, he decided to make a move. He tried to get up, but then realized something— his legs were both gone, with dark, crimson blood gushing out from them soundlessly.
He felt no pain, but his bewilderment grew in panic. Whoever his hunter was, he knew that person had got him, the prey. He tried to crawl away, 'just a few more', he muttered under his slow and heavy breathing.
But the slow crawling by scratching the ground did not last long, the next thing gone were both of his hands— silently, painlessly. The man screamed, not in pain or agony, but in pure panic and fear.
