The air is cold and silent after the rain. The sentry patrols the edge of the camp near the outer perimeter. Pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, thinking no one would be out after the soup that poured down on the area. Slowly out of the tree line a tip of something metal breaks the edge and locates the sentry. The sentry drags on the cigarette not knowing he is being watched. Slowly and steadily the man behind the rifle takes aim, falling into the raise and fall of his breathing. Just as the sentry takes a long drag on the cigarette the shooter hold his breathing for just a moment and squeezes the trigger. The sentry hears the crack of the fire, but that is the last thing he hears. He slumps to the ground as cold as the ground. Before the sentry even fell the shooter has gone back into the forest to find new targets.
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