Aeneas stalked through the deserted streets. In the quiet hours, the night nights, before and following the witching hours, when the street was a sea of shadow of garish light. The feeling of isolation was total: no one else walked that night, and all the buildings were sealed up with their windows vacant black voids.

Humanity slept fitfully.

It had been a long time since the Menina had hunted alone. The threat of the Pure had been too much and the People had had no land of their own to speak of. This was the first chance in many months for the Irraka to prowl alone in the city, and he took the opportunity with both hands.

He wandered aimlessly, letting his feet and nose carry him where it would. The Watch Tower had not firmed its territorial boundaries just yet, and that meant, as far as the Irraka was concerned, his writ was everywhere the Pure were not.

And with Falcon the All-Seeing close behind, he knew he had to hunt for the mysterious if only to feed their totem.

"Ah see ya. How 'bout we take a look over in that Grave Yard. Energies and stuff pool in them places. Maybe we find something to play with?" Aeneas muttered, leering, over his shoulder. With a jerk of his odd shaped head, he gestured to the silent stand of trees.

Without waiting for an answer, the Hunter in Darkness moved off.