He didn't hear the footsteps. He wove through the trees unsteadily, stumbling every once in a while, staring up at the black sky through a leafy canopy that seemed to rock back and forth before his eyes. He was so angry! Who did he think he was? Always ordering him around, treating him like a little kid. He'd had enough! The soft footsteps grew closer. He suddenly sensed something, but it was too late. The blade of the knife flashed in the moonlight, plunging down, and tearing into the young boys flesh.