Emma's heart pounded in her chest as she crept through the underbrush, her eyes fixed on the hulking figure ahead. The woman's muffled cries grew fainter, and Emma knew she had to act fast.

He spotted something gleaming, half buried under the sand, and knelt down.  Gently, he worked the holy symbol of Annis free.  It was a golden sun and heavy, worth quite a bit.  He slipped it into his pocket and stood.

Haatim, Damien, and Frieda approached the dilapidated cabin with practiced stealth. The rotting wood creaked beneath their feet as they entered, the stench of decay assaulting their senses.

Rain began to fall from the sky.

The sun had nearly disappeared behind the treeline when Haatim finally pulled the car onto a narrow, overgrown dirt road. They drove for another few minutes before coming to a stop in a small clearing. A lone figure stood waiting, his silhouette barely visible in the fading light.

The priest waited until things settled.  Lightning struck in the distance, followed seconds after by the roll of thunder.

As they sped down the highway, Frieda twisted in her seat to face Petrillo and Emma in the back. Her expression was grim, all traces of the earlier training session's levity gone.

The crowd watched in mute fascination.  Petro couldn’t believe it.  He didn’t think this was right, but he couldn’t understand why no one else did anything. The duke wasn’t a bad man.  People often talked about him, and how good he was to his people. Yet no one spoke up. No one said this was wrong.

The morning's surprise combat session set the tone for the rest of the day. Haatim and Frieda put Petrillo and Emma through their paces, drilling them on everything from hand-to-hand combat to demon lore. By the time the sun reached its zenith, both young Hunters were exhausted but exhilarated.