The Stalker tracked the Prey. It was running the area the Prey called a “graveyard,” and the Stalker supposed that was as good a label as any. It didn’t matter to him. Once he was released, then any place was fair game. He would follow the orders of the ones in charge of him, and bring in the Prey.
The Stalker didn’t bother with the morality of the Chase. In fact, ‘morality’ was not a problem with him at all. All he was interested in was serving his masters, and he didn’t recognize the concept of morals. The Prey existed only to be caught. Sometimes, they got away, which meant that the unlucky Stalker was punished as Prey themselves.
He didn’t like that when it happened to him, and it hadn’t happened to him in a long time. He put the thought out of his mind and concentrated on the Prey. He had gotten close, and watched the door being rattled. The Stalker supposed his target was looking for the Grave, but that was something that he was counting on.
The Stalker looked back where he’d come, wondering if more Prey was coming. Something seemed a little off.