Wind whipped by my face, so quickly it caused a short, quick whipping pain. I savored the feeling. After being raised from a cold, dark, moldy grave, the feeling of running at top speed is highly favorable, even the pain. I felt grains of sand slide between my feet, finally unwrapped after so many long years.
The foolish humans had set up an encampment on my sacred land. I had first found out as smoke smells had drifted up my aging fragile nostrils. I had choked on them at first, as gray smoke had filled my entire tomb, setting me choking.
I suddenly stumbled, my sword held carelessly in my hand cutting into my arm. It was short and sweet, and I stopped running to look at the blood seeping out of my wound, the blood seeping out of my new skin. When I was resurrected, my old, decaying skin had molted away, leaving my with new skin, as smooth as the perfect stone.
After being mummified for years, these fools had disturbed my resting place, and brought me back to life. Maybe I’ll thank them after I kill them.