Keirst lay sleeping, the acids eating away at his flesh. Had he been in a normal sleep he probably would have woke up, but this was no ordinary sleep. He slowly was digested, first his skin, then his muscles and organs, and lastly his skeleton. Death came quietly for Keirst, wrapped him in it's cold embrace, and bore him away as quickly as it had come.<br/><br/>Keirst awoke with a start. He looked around. He was in the forest. He looked behind him and saw he was lying against an oak tree. He looked down at himself. His clothes were on him and his weapons were right where they should be. He sighed with relief. It all must have been a terrible nightmare. Strange, he couldn't seem to remember much of it anymore. He yawned, then stood up. He dusted off the back of his pants, then stretched a bit. He looked around, shrugged, then walked off.<br/><br/>(I gave my character his stuff back because I don't think anyone really wants to see a naked teenage boy walking around.)