A perfect night for sub rosa adventure; the gibbous moon sheds just enough light to mix shadows of stark, barren trees with shadows of men moving in secret.
Soft slurring sounds of shovels thrust into the earth, heavy breathing of men as they bend to their work, the patter of dirt falling on fabric; such were the sounds of a grave opening.
"Shit, watch where you're tossing the freaking dirt, Sam. You almost got me in the head that time."
Minutes later the crash of wood breaking was followed by flames dancing out of the grave and into the sky.
