Racing through the shadows, barely seeing each twist and turn and catching myself just before the roots.
The cold night air rushing past me, occasionally a leaf brushing my arms and gone just as quickly.
The adrenaline rush heating my blood, the dark forcing me to use my other senses while my eyes are trying to adjust to the lack of light.
I know I am not the only one out here, and I am not superior in the dark, the only question is whether I am the top predator or not.
A lone wolf, I feel the lust for the hunt beating inside me like a deep, booming drum.
The silence takes me back, before buildings and cars, back when the Shawnee tribes lived on these lands, hunting and dancing.
I can feel them running along beside me, their spirits rejoicing with life and freedom from the physical world.
The rhythmic beat of their drums, as they chant and sing.
