I decide I'm in deep enough cover in the forest to stop running, I don't want to make too much noise on the crunchy woodland floor.

I stalk quietly between the trees, my hand on the knife on my leg in case the need arises, I've learnt it's important to scan high in the trees. It was common to demons to hide high up.

I walk for what must be another hour until I find a small stream, I stand on top of some rocks by the river bed, conscious about being so open but needing a vantage point. My eyes catch a small frog in the wet mud, hopping through footprints.

Footprints!

I begin to follow them, but it only gets me so far as soon I'm back to moss and leaves. Fuck this is difficult.

Suddenly, cliche as ever, I hear a twig snap.

Rookie move, demon.

I unsheathe my knive and stay close to trees for cover. I hear rustling and then it stops as soon as it started. Fuck, must have been a fox.

I'm ambushed from above and am pinned the the ground from another human on top of me, except it wasn't a human. Confirmed by the neon glow of the eyes and bat like wings, I had found my demon.

Or rather, he had found me, but Sir didn't need to know that.

I bring my foot up under me and sink it into his chest, feeling a small sense of victory when I unseat him and find my feet.

"Not good enough bitch." He growls and charges, I raise my knife ready to swing it downwards to his shoulder but he blocks with his forearm, I sink a heavy fisted blow to his gut and he groans from the force. I slash my knife and catch his upper arm, blood flows freely from the wound.

I've pissed him off.

He calls upon a demonic power and I'm slammed into a tree trunk by what feels almost like a strong wind, the air is knocked from my lungs and I grit my teeth. I can't die here.

I run at him again, he laughs and almost hops, but I slide down between his legs, skinning my elbow in the process. I take advantage of his back being turned and leap onto his back, holding my knife against his throat.

"Give up you fucking helldog!" I snarl in his ear, his only response is to launch me over his head. I land about thirty metres away, landing uncomfortably on my shotgun.

My fucking shotgun!

I pull it from my back, load, pump and fire. His hip explodes in a firework of blood. He barely falters. I'm running out of time.

I aim for the chest next, his chest becomes a crater of spraying blood and organs. He stops about ten metres away, clutching his wound with no effects to reduce the flow. His disgusting neon eyes meet mine as I get ready for the next shot. He has a glazed look in his eye, I keep my face straight and steady my breathing, then I spray his brains over the surrounding trees.