The memory of the last events that took place couple of hours was blurry and difficult to remember. He tried moving and shifting from his spot, but he found the task hard to because of the weight of several pounds of dirt and ground above him. The Viking panicked as he desperately tried moving in order to get free thinking he would die there; desperately, he made his way out to the surface using his hands and fists. Once out, he realized he didn’t feel bad. In fact, he felt better than he had ever felt before. However, he felt thirsty. Terribly thirsty. He kneeled in front of a nearby creek to drink water, but he didn’t find relief no matter how much water he drank.
A feral scream broke the deadly silence of the night as he growled frustrated because he couldn’t find satisfying. Desperately, he started looking around trying to find the angel of death he passed out. Was this real? Where was he? What was he? The Viking had so many questions he needed someone to answer before he lost his mind.
“Where are you, Angel of death?” Eric said as he moved back to the grave he just came out from.