[It's dark out here in the desert. Derek is crouched between two palo verde trees, half hidden in the brush around him, and eyeballing the trail of blood that leads further down into the wash. It ends at a man-sized mound of dirt, and as the last of the sunset fades from the sky, the dirt is starting to push, like something is pushing out from beneath.
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He clutches the sword in his hand, waiting.]