Jackal groaned in his unconscious state, stirring a bit but not waking up. As he lay there unmoving, he dreamt that he was with his father, the one he never knew. They talked for a while, sharing memories that might have been. Jackal smiled, then frowned again. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said. "I'm sorry that your knife was stolen." The older man patted him on the back, then grasped his shoulder firmly. "You'll find it, my boy... I know you will."
Jackal smiled again. "Thanks, Dad."
Suddenly, his father's grip on his shoulder seemed to tighten, becoming rather painful.
And then he woke up.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!"
(Aldrea, please fix your post so that the knife is now the sword and so you DON'T pants Jackal. That last part was just immature. Taking the sword was enough.)