The sun began its dip towards the horizon, painting the northern lands in deep reds and oranges. Snow slowly began to fall down in thin flurries, creating a fresh layer of powder on top of the frost that pervaded the outdoors during this time of year.

Out of the shadow of one of the countless evergreens and pines, a thin figure in a tattered white cloak silently slinked down a thin game trail. He'd taken this same route numerous times in the past, quickly moving without leaving a single boot print behind. He knew that no one was following him, he was too experienced for that, but it paid well to be careful.

These woods were home to beings that would view him as nothing more than prey.

Silence encompassed the entire forest, the few animals that were hardy enough to live this far north were either deep in their hibernation cycles or were smart enough to find shelter out of the biting cold.

He pulled his cloak closer around himself.

After several more minutes of silent walking, the man stopped. Approaching a thicket that was situated under a low-hanging branch and right next to the side of a hill, he stooped down and brushed his hand to wipe away the thin layer of newly deposited snow.

With some effort, a finger finally found the piece of metal he was looking for. A quick twist later and the secret door that was built straight into the rock of the hill swung inwards; thicket still attached to the front of it. While it wasn't the best of cameo, the weather should prevent any traveler from straying too far from the main roads.

Besides, if any wayward soul happened to wander into their den; well, it could be considered its own punishment.

As always, the first thing that hit him upon entering the abode was the thick stench of blood. His nose twitched; that scent always got his blood pumping.

The hideout was more so a glorified cave than anything else. Several torches were place sporadically for lighting, even if they weren't always necessary. A table was set up in the middle; scattered across it were various trinkets and other spoils of their looting.

Then he noticed the torch that had been knocked against the floor and that one of the chairs was lying on its side.

Slowly approaching the torch, all his senses on alert from the change in the norm, the man reached out and lifted it up to his height.

His two mates were strung up against the furthest wall. The cause of death was rather apparent; they both had a crossbow bolt protruding from the left side of their chests and they were both decapitated. Blood, almost black from its contact with the air, stained the wall above them in patterns created from cutting two heads off.

He quickly drew his short sword from the sheath at his side; both of his mates had died before they could even reach their weapons and he'd make sure he would at least be able to meet what or who had done this head on.

Torch in one hand, he swept the corners of the room while trying to steady his breathing. It was only reflexive that he'd started to hyperventilate in the first place; the extra oxygen wasn't doing him any good.

But, despite his carefulness, despite his enhanced senses, he never heard the figure slip out of the darkness behind him.

Never saw the crossbow calmly aimed at him.

The slight tightening of a trigger and the inaudible twang of the bowstrings were all that made it to the man before the bolt ripped through his chest.

"Ack!"

Looking down, he was greeted with the sight of the crossbow bolt's silver tip poking out through his tunic. Whirling around on his assailant, the man's eyes went red at the sight of the dark figure. Lunging forward at a speed far beyond that of a normal human's, he brought his sword up to cleave his target in two.

Searing pain tore through his arms, the short sword and the torch clattering harmlessly to the ground. Two silver throwing knives were impaled through both of his wrists. Falling to his knees as his body began to fail him, he felt a shudder as he realized who he was up against. The hunter who could kill even experienced vampires with ease; who was good enough at ambushes to get the drop on a being that should have had every advantage during the night.

"T-Than-"

Before he could utter another letter, a single cut from a broadsword took his head straight off.

The vampire's head rolled across the uneven floor, coming to a stop against the chair that had been knocked aside in the previous conflict. The rest of his body collapsed into a heap on the floor.

The dark hunter flicked the vampiric blood off the edge of his blade before sheathing it at his side. It'd had once again done well in this fight, despite it not being nearly up to par with something like his master's sword. With a small amount of annoyance, he leaned down and removed the two silver knives from the vampire's body. He'd need to leave the crossbow bolts in their bodies for now if he ever wanted to use them effectively again. Walking over to where the head now rested, he picked it up by the hair and stuffed it into a fur sack; one that was layered with waterproof fur that would clean easily. It fit easily next to the other two heads and was soon slung back over his shoulder. Picking up his crossbow from where he'd dropped it on the ground, he left the vampire's den.

The night had only gotten colder since he'd snuck into the vampire's den a few hours ago, and it would only get colder as the night went on. Adjusting his kill-bag so that it was strapped to his bag, he began the long slug back to the town and the sun finally set.

"I-Is this the place?"

One of the town garrison guards spoke up as they finally arrived back at the hidden entrance to the vampire nest. A cart that was designated to carry corpses along with a fresh supply of dry wood under a tarp remained back at a main road a few minutes' walk away.

With a nod, the hunter moved over to the foliage, opening the door without the aid of one of the torches and stepped inside.

"It's too damn cold out tonight for this shit".

Another guard spoke up, rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air from his mouth on them.

"Oh, quit your wining. We'll be off shift after we're done disposing of the bodies".

The squad leader addressed his subordinate, lightly glaring at the two shivering men next to him.

Without a sound, the hunter walked back out of the next, two corpses over one shoulder and one over the other. All three guards all turned away at the as the stench of blood and death wafted off of the bodies and out from the entrance of the tiny cave.

"Ugh, those are vamps alright" The first guard said, going a bit green from the smell.

The leader approached the hunter, nodding back to the entrance, "Those are the only bodies, right?"

"They weren't harboring cattle; from what I observed, they were taking small portions of blood from travelers instead" The hunter spoke, his voice slightly muffled from the fabric mask that covered his mouth and nose.

The four men walked back to the main road in silence.

The wood caught quickly, despite the frigid temperature and snow. The hastily built pyre quickly incinerated the vampire's bodies and the low wind scattered their ashes as they floated up with the smoke.

He'd already settled the bounty on the wanted's heads; with his reputation guilds and towns knew better than to attempt and rip him off.

Feeling the bag of gold in a heavier state than it was in the beginning of the day, the hunter pulled his mask down and lowered his hood.

Dark, navy hair blended almost perfectly into the night as silver eyes looked at the dying embers of the pyre. The guards had long-since left; all too happy to head home to a warm bed and possibly some company.

Taking a deep breath of the frozen air, Minato Aristato ran a hand through his hair. If nothing had changed since he was last back at his home, he wouldn't be in the north for much longer.

Pulling his hood back down and donning his mask again, Minato cut through the woods away from the town as he began to make his way back to his village. While his dark grey long coat would keep him warm, he needed to get moving.