2 Thessalonians 2:3 Sam awoke from a dream of dark shadowy figures and a feeling of dread to find – somewhat surprisingly - that he was alive, huddled into a foetal position in a bed of ash. He sat up quickly, spitting and grimacing, pulling embers out of his mouth. A quick inventory. He had no broken bones which was downright amazing given the distance he fell from the Astaroth’s claws. It seemed that the ash had cushioned his fall. The wounds and various scrapes from the Lemure’s claws were already improving. He had always healed quickly – one of the benefits of his demonic heritage. His katana was still clutched in his left hand. The wakizashi was gone, but after a quick panicked search amongst the ash, he found it buried nearby and breathed out a long sigh of relief. Without his weapons, he would not last another night. Still crouching, he looked around carefully, taking a deeper interest in his surroundings as Hikari had taught him. He was in a depression so deep it was almost a crater.
