Zeniel's long tail twitched as he peered into the dark alleyway from above. His glowing eyes locked onto their target; an old drunkard, who was laying on the cold snow. The man was absolutely still. Well, that's good Zeniel thought. I don't like to have to kill. This was his first hunt in a while, and the young half-demon was very hungry. Fortunately, between his bat-like wings, demon senses, and the cold winter climate, it hadn't taken him long to find a suitable meal. Everyone knew that if you didn't want hunters after you, you had to pick a target that was dead, or close to it; usually, it was someone who wouldn't be missed, like the homeless man in the alley. Zeniel's body moved swiftly as he used his clawed hands and feet to clamber silently down the alley wall towards the man.