Zan’s Prehistoric World Narrative: Zan had stopped the battle and now stood waiting for the War and Death Spirit. War Spirit was furious. War Spirit was a few steps ahead of Death Spirit and stopped in front of Zan, his face red with anger. “What do you think you are doing?” War shouted. “You meddling freak of a….” War never got a chance to finish his sentence. The Death Spirit stepped up behind War and laid a hand on his shoulder. Zan watched a layer of white frost move down War’s arm. War’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground. An immortal couldn’t die, but the icy touch of Death could bring even an immortal Spirit to the ground. “Well done young Fox Demon,” Death said to Zan. “You have done great honor to your families name this day. Death’s hand was still on War’s shoulder. War was helpless as he watched the layer of ice slowly covering him. “You can’t hurt me,” War pleaded. “I’m a student, it’s not allowed.” Death’s eyes were cold and black as he replied, “I am not one of your teachers. I assure you that I most certainly can punish you as I see fit. You are a Spirit on my team during an emergency mission and your actions jeopardized our efforts to protect the humans.” Zan had assumed that War Spirit had been in charge. Death Spirit looked at Zan again, “Your father will be here shortly to collect you up. I will also be sending a report asking that you be given school credit for your actions today, though I am concerned that you may have caused a small cultural scar with the humans. They are likely to believe that demons rise burning from the ground to eat the flesh of humans after today.” Zan dropped his eyes and grinned slightly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.” Death Spirit finally let go of War’s shoulder. War Spirit’s teeth were chattering violently. “You did well under the circumstance,” Death said. “Cultural scars are bound to happen from time to time. We can only hope that burning demons preying on humans are soon forgotten by the humans. Either way, we will deal with it.” “Sir, was this a test?” Zan asked. “Yes, but not your test, this was War’s mid-term exam. Which I will request a failing mark for,” replied Death Spirit. “Then why was I brought here?” Zan asked. “As a safety measure, of course,” Death explained. “I suspected you would not allow maliciousness to be perverted into murder.” Death reached out and placed a hand on Zan’s shoulder. Zan stiffened expecting the worse. He hated being touched, but Zan was surprised. Death’s touch wasn’t cold as he had expected, but instead was warm like his fathers. “I am very aware of why you do not like being touched, little Fox Demon,” Death said. “Perhaps if you simply explained to others that the vast difference between your extraordinarily hot demon skin and what is, to you, the freezing cold touch of others is painful, the problem would resolve itself.” “How did you know?” Zan asked incredulously. Death Spirit looked up as he saw an unusually large fox approach, “Your father is here, run along with yourself now, we can talk another time,” the Death Spirit said kindly. Zan turned and saw his father, “Father!” Zan exclaimed. “Did you see what I did?” Zan ran to his father. “Yes, I saw. I am very proud of you,” the Fox Spirit said. “It looks like all that time we spent on that costume for your school play paid off.” Zan beamed as he followed his father away from the battlefield, leaving War Spirit to whatever fate Death Spirit had in store for him. “Father?” Zan asked. “Yes, son,” Fox replied. “The Death Spirit kept calling me Fox Demon, why?” Zan inquired. Fox looked at his son and sighed. “Ah, that old argument. Well, I suppose I have to explain it to you or you will be bugging me forever. Let’s sit on this hill and watch Star Rise while I tell you about it.”