Sorry this is crap
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It was bitterly cold by the ocean. The man spent little time by the sea during his travels. Still, he wore no clothes in his optime form though the winter-like wind ripped across his bare shoulders. Gaze tearing across the horizon, the male’s amethyst eyes finally rested on the ashes. There were piles of black mounds dotting the pale sand along the shore. The thought made Spyridon shiver and he crouched inward, shifting to lupus. The wind buffeted his red hued fur as he continued on his search. He felt in his own travels again, wandering through Inferni territory like a pup.
Picking his way through the ashes, Spyridon caught a glint in the faint sun light. He trotted up to the source and searched the rubble. At first his brown paws were lost in the mass of black flakes but as his claws found the sand again he bumped into something cold. Puzzled, the man continued to dig until a small, rusted dagger became visible; sticking into a plastic flask. The container reeked of gasoline, strong and thick. Spyridon looked up for anyone that the items may have belonged too.
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