Hunter: Blood Moon

3rd February 2011

Dear Bob,

I met a Tracker today.

At school we had our cliques, they all do I guess, and even we, the lucky (or cursed) ones don't escape that. The divisions don't mix a lot. Dad did marry a Slayer, though she is more half Slayer since Grandma isn't like we are. I wonder what Dad's parents thought about that. I bet they rolled in their graves. Think about it, their son, pure Hunter with some A-grade Hunter genes, marrying Mum. You don't see the Grimms or Van Helsing tribes rebelling like that. Hm, that doesn't seem right. My Dad, a rebel?

I am hilarious!

Anyway, the Tracker, or The Jerk, is Jordan's age and was in his year at the Academy. I get we don't all mingle a lot and being a couple of years older it makes sense I don't' know him. Though most people do know me, well know of me. My little stunt with the fire alarms back in 2009 to get out of my archery assessment caused a bit of havoc with the older years as it was also during their final evaluation and the demon created for the first group to take down got loose and simulation turned to reality super quick and yeah. No one died, so I don't get what the drama was all about.

If I see him again, I might ask if he remembers that or even if he was in that group.

IF I see him again.

I'm sure I'm meant to be using this to tell tales of any discoveries I make in the Hunting game. You know things like this:

Log 22. Killed a Boogey monster and learnt that if I throw a box of tissues covered in cat pee at it, it will use those tissues to wipe its eyes, making it lose its sight. You may then kill the now blind, probably innocent creature.

(*not true by the way, well maybe it is. I have never and most likely will never attempt it to find out. Also, what is with us always killing shit?)

Instead future readers, and most likely my mother, I will use Bob like a twelve-year-old uses her diary. I will cover it in glitter, unicorn stickers and write endless, pointless, shit that seems important at the time which for me, is going to start with the Tracker I met today.

The Tracker's name is Logan.

Don't tell anyone, but I don't think he is going to last long in his profession. Hell neither will I which is why I am willing to disappear away from the crazy. He has the body for it though. I may have pushed him against a wall, and well, it was actually kind of nice. Like his eyes.

God, his eyes!

They were like a stormy sky. You know that purple, greyish, blue shade that you know is just full of lightning as it appears on the horizon? Looking at him it was like I could see right into his soul, complete with all the destruction lingering beneath the surface.

I could see the danger that follows him.

His fear.

He tries to hide it, but I know what I saw because I see it every time I look in the mirror.

He seems determined though, brave.

Maybe he will survive.

Maybe he will find a girl to make some little Hunters with, take his place when the end does come. I can already see them; cherub faces with chocolate curls framing stormy eyes that will forget the calm they have as children once the training starts.

I think he is too pretty to kill anything. He'll probably smile, knowing how charming that stupid, smirk like grin is and try and talk his way out of trouble. Idiot.

I miss my brother. I've decided I am going to try finding him.

Don't ask.

I also don't have a death wish, so don't expect this to turn into the hunter diaries Mum wants them to be. I'll do what I have to, in the most, unhunterish way I can. That's it.

I wish I didn't have to wait to find out if I got into that course.

I wonder what's for dinner tonight. I hope its burgers.

Elise Bunting
(Newly discovered Tracker fan? Ha no!)