The Hunters Prey.
He crouched on the roof, peering over the edge as he snarled slightly. They were getting closer. The few remaining humans in this town wouldn't survive if he had is way. He'd sink his claws into their flesh and rip it from their bones, one by one until no one was left alive.
The Hunter sniffed the air. But... what would he do when they were all dead? The zombies didn't fight back much against their own kind. Maybe he could do it slowly... injure them then let them go. Start the chase all over again and drag out their death... Yes... that sounded like a good idea, if he could control himself. Whenever the living were near, animal instincts kicked in. The need to kill until their screaming stopped. Until their last breath spluttered out in a final yell for help that wouldn't come.
The sound of them dying gave him a thrill. The copper scent of their life blood flowing out of them made The Hunter want more. It wasn't simply that he enjoyed killing. He lived for it. . Not that he could remember his life before the killing. He certainly didn't care about that. All that mattered was that the hunt made his undead body feel alive.
He growled before leaping, landing on all fours on the ground. They would be here soon. He'd been following them for sometime, watching as they killed his brethern. He snarled again before crawling up the wall of the building infront of him and crouching, waiting for his moment to strike. Something exploded loudly and the undead below him seemed to jolt alive, running into the building he was on. They were there, so close to him now. He could practically taste their blood.
He leant over the edge a little more, waiting in anticipation. He couldn't stop his excitment rising as he snarled and growled, eager to get his prey.
Yes, they'd all be dead soon. Maybe he'd move onto the next town and hunt there. There would be no stopping. Not until every last human had drowning in their own blood.