It's a baking hot night in the desert; which is unsettlingly odd, giving as the temperature was usually below freezing at that time. You were wandering around, stumbling at certain times whilst you clutched a nasty-looking wound on your shoulder. Unbeknownst to you, the God of Death was observing you. He was clutching his crook, hands practically itching to use it. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to raise the men, women and creatures who had succumbed to the most foul course of life; death itself. After all, what was one more soul lost to the mysteries of the desert? You were only a demigod now; your existence was pathetic to look at.

But he wont. He can't. He knows full well that the falcon circling the dark nights sky is Horus; a rather well-known Demigod for his battles and strength. He's aware that Horus is keeping an eye on you, of the consequences that would follow if he did so. So for now, he just watched.

Waiting for the right moment.