as the hunter waited in the trees it brought back memories of the past, the swampy trees had brought back memories of his past, a past that was once long forgotten
The hunter: they cant be back, not again No.. its not, possible
He sees Tony hiding in the darkness of the forest. Not that you could ever see those bastards, mind you. They were fast and they knew their way around the jungle. He remembers the looks on the boy's faces when they walked into that village and... oh Jesus. He shouldn't think about that now. Sometimes he still hears Tex's slow southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes. He always had a pack of Luckys. But the boys are gone now... he knows that. It must be in his mind, all of it, but those visions played on.. The village, the traps, he remembered the nightwatch with bill, that bullet passing through his head, the blood of it all, he could smell the smoke in the air, as they set the forest ablaze, the scarred bodies of those he once was close with. It drove him mad. He had run out of the tree that night, hiding in a cave, that swamp just wasn't right. As he attempted to sleep, he could hear the sounds of Charlie firing his M14, and his body being decimated by spikes days later, he knew someone was out there, as the calls of those bastards were present out of the cave. He had clutched his knife, and ran out and stabbed whatever was out there, he stabbed it many times, as like he did to those pieces of shit who kept him in those P.O.W. camps, then he really saw it, it was a man, a short one, resembling the looks of a squid, after that, the hunter ran back up in his tree, eyes wide open, ready to strike, as all for he knows, he's not letting any of those soldiers take his like, just like the others
