For some time, I didn't know where I was going. My thoughts were a whirlwind of anger, outrage and disbelief.

And fear. Judging by Arielle's words, that had been just a small raid, with a ton more undead on the way.

Grasping hands and hollow eyes. I kept seeing them.

Eventually, I remembered the body I was carrying. Necromancer or not, I supposed that it deserved to be buried, and I was desperately searching for something to take the tension off.

I found a secluded spot at the foot of three great rocks; they huddled against each other like old men whispering secrets. It didn't take much to make a hole big enough for the job, but I thirsted for manual work and my roots were far too efficient at digging.

Still, even I had to be satisfied after a while.

The body was pitifully small compared to the tomb, sallow skin and ragged clothes against the backdrop of dirt.

I stared at it for a while, searching for hatred. I couldn't muster it. The dead were dead. They had no more business with the living. And… well, she didn't look like she had been enjoying herself, skeleton-thin like she looked.

With a grimace, I reached out and closed the woman's eyes.

I kneeled by the tomb, watching the body. I should have been angry, but instead, I felt only sadness.

How had she ended like that, I wondered, herding zombies after a running nymph and trying to poison a source of life for so many animals?

Had it been ambition? Necessity? Desperation? Spite? Stupidity? Ignorance? Hatred? Madness? A mix of them all?

Suddenly, I was agitated.

I never killed a person. Animals, a bunch. But people, even one that summoned the dead…

Unquiet, I started filling the tomb. Even after they had disappeared beneath the dirt, I felt like two vacant eyes were staring through me.

As I worked, a memory came to me. A stout man stood in front of a butcher table, the air filled with the rhythmic sound of the knife cleaving through meat and bone. I could smell blood and the acrid scent of guts.

The knife stopped mid-air. The light hit the blade, making it shine almost crimson.

"A man is a sea", the old man said, slow and rumbling. Blade met wood with a sharp sound as he let the blow fall. "It can be a shallow one, with no secrets to be found. It can be deep and dark. It can be murky. It can be clear and see-through. It can be stormy, with the waves reaching the clouds. It can be flat like a plate. It can be overflowing. It can be drying out. It can shine golden and it can be black slime".

Thunk! The knife cleaved through, hitting the wood.

"Death is a cleaver", he said. "There is no going back after you let it fall. You don't put stuff back together after it has been cut. You don't fill the sea back".

Thunk!

"You use the cleaver a lot and you are a butcher. That's how it is. Now, a butcher of animals fills the table. A butcher of man leaves only empty chairs and people to weep alone. A big, salty wasteland and a bunch of headstones. And nothing else".

I blinked back tears as the memory dissipated.

"Right", I mumbled, fumbling at my eyes. I didn't even know I could cry.

A wave of nostalgia and loss washed over me, for the life that I just vaguely remembered but that I still lost.

"You were right on the nose, pops". I sniffed, images of a past lost in the fog coming and going. But it was all gone, and I never was one to dwell on the past. I wanted to hold it, not let it enslave me.

I watched the tomb, half-filled now. Seas and cleaver. It sounded just about right.

I didn't regret my actions, couldn't. That woman had been a necromancer and a murderer. But the weight of the act, of the cleaver falling and of my hard on the handle, that I felt. Killing was not a joke and I meant to take full responsibility for it.

Retrieving a piece of wood from the forest, I thrust it into the ground at the top of the tomb.

"Here are my respects", I said, standing in front of it.

Joining my hands in front of my chest, I recited a prayer to half-remembered gods of a lifetime ago. To them, I promised I wouldn't ever take a life lightly. It would happen, yes, to defend what needed to be defended and destroy what must be destroyed. There was no lying about that. But I wouldn't relish it, wouldn't enjoy it, wouldn't ever forget what was being severed.

Life was precious.

"Rest, necromancer", I said to the tomb, grimly solemn.

A hole and a tombstone. That was all I could and would give to that unnamed little woman with sunken cheeks and too large clothes.

Turning my back at the tomb, I walked away, leaving the dead behind.

Day 57

I didn't return to my house that night. Disquiet hounded me and I couldn't face the nymph or the situation I found myself in. I was stalling, running away.

After passing a horrible night rooted by the wellspring, I was awoken from a ruckus in the distance.

Still groggy, wondering what it was, I took my roots out and stumbled in its direction. I could hear voices, a loud clattering.

As I walked, I felt the tension in the forest. Every leaf and stalk looked rigid and stiff, the trunks standing like columns of iron. There was a weight on the air, and it pressed down on me.

Completely awake now, I walked faster. I could hear many snapping sounds now as well.

I found the source beyond the forest border.

And that was the time I learned that it doesn't matter how much you try to stall and run. The world is going to find you anyway.

A crowd of zombies and skeletons staggered across the plains. There had to be hundreds of them, with some already stumbling under the boughs while the last were still in the distance. A moaning mass of grey flesh and grasping hands. And right at the center of it, I could see something peak out from the mass, something slimy and translucent and writhing.

Voices in pain, human voices! took me out of my horrified reverie.

With surprise, I saw that there was a bunch of living humans in front of the undead host.

Men, women, even children; they wore little more than rags and were skeleton thin. Some wielded weapons and some pieces of armor but the majority were unarmed. There was one that was festooned with pieces of armors like a Christmas tree. Three prisoners struggled to hold him up like some disturbing banner, making with each step the clattering sound I heard before. The man was so completely encumbered that he couldn't move, blocked with his arms spread wide like a scarecrow. I could see only his terrified eyes peaking from a gap in his helm.

Many skeletons, taller, better armored and moving in a more precise way than the rest, herded the humans forward like sheep. They whipped those that slowed down, urging them forward. As I watched, a woman fell to her knees with a cry. The skeletons were on her in a flash. Swords raised and fell, the screams of the woman getting cut short right away. When they drew back, there was a new zombie stumbling forward.

I was horrified, rooted to my spot. That was a scene I couldn't have seen in my worst nightmares.

"Grunt grunt grunt".

Suddenly, the sound of grunting filled the air.

With a crash, the undead that had disappeared beneath the trees flew back in pieces.

The horned rabbits swarmed from under the boughs, skewering and trampling any undead in their way.

Like it was a single being, the entire procession stopped and drew back. Many feet trampled the grass as the horde arranged itself in a ragged line, with the skeletons herding the humans in front of it.

Meanwhile, more and more rabbits streamed from the trees. They took their formation as well, spreading out to form a battle line. Last, the band of elders arrived. They took the center, with the massive patriarch standing tall at their lead.

On the other side, the slimy thing I noticed bobbed and twisted. It burst out of the mass of undead a moment later.

Without thinking, I took a step back.

The thing was hideous. A skeleton, its bones bent and warped, rattled and jerked, sustaining a translucent mass of writhing guts that exploded out of its ribs, reached out of its throat and trailed down to its legs like so many tentacles. The mass overlapped with the head, covering it with a slimy, pinkish membrane. Carved into it, there was a large smile.

The thing threw its head back and let out a shrill scream.

That was all the undead needed. Moaning, they stumbled forward. The skeletons whipped their prisoners hard, even stabbing some. The humans screamed in terror and charged. They were being used as cannon fodder.

The patriarch of the rabbits let out a throaty shout. It was echoed by the rest of his brethren until the growls of the animals overwhelmed the undead's moans.

The horned rabbits charged.

The two lines met and it was bloody chaos at once.

Half-starved and weak, the humans didn't put up a resistance that was worthy of the name. The majority west down at the first assault, skewered and trampled by the rabbits. A few survived only because taking the chance, they bashed their way through the guards and away from the melee. I saw a man wrestle a skeleton to the ground, giving a woman the time to carry a screaming child away.

It didn't matter.

The humans had done their job, absorbing the charge at the price of their life. Now the undead surged forward, swarming the rabbits. The animals fought back and everything descended in a chaotic melee, with the rabbits stabbing and chopping and the undead clawing and grabbing.

I paced, anxiety and indecision gnawing at my gut. My home was at stake, my friends, those brave brave rabbits, were in danger. But that chaos of claws and blood. I balked at the idea of wading into it.

As I wrestled with my doubts, I saw one of the rabbits fall. The animal stabbed an undead before being overwhelmed by the rest. He didn't go quietly, shouting and grunting and weaving bloody furrows with his horn even as he disappeared beneath the mass of the undead.

That did it. I wasn't going to stand and watch while they fought and died for my home.

Grabbing my maul, I took in the scene.

The horns fought fiercely, opposing the horde with a wall of horns and muscle, but the undead outnumbered them. They didn't act randomly. The undead tried to push themselves between the rabbits to divide them, grasped at their horns and fur to pull them away from their brethren, or tried to overwhelm each at the time by burying them under an avalanche of flesh. Once alone, a rabbit had no chance.

For their part, the rabbits fought in sync, with some taking the undead's attention while others chopped at them. Their horns cleaved bone and flesh, taking the legs from under the undead before finishing them with a stab to the head.

The fight looked in the balance but the undead just kept coming. There was no saying who'd be the winner yet, but I didn't chance the animals' win.

Things being like that, it wouldn't do just to get stuck in and start swinging. I had to act in a way that tipped the balance.

I panted, scanning the crowd. Damn, there were so many of them. But if only I could find…

There!

He stood between the undead, a cowled figure trying to remain unseen. Not one of the dead. A living one. A necromancer. If I took him out, some of the blasted things had to crumble.

I let my gaze roam, trying to pick up more of the dark mages. I counted at least five. But with that moving mass it was difficult to say.

It didn't matter. I had a target.

Taking a breath to steady myself, I started moving. Keeping low, I ran toward the open. The necromancers kept to the back, so I had to make some ground before going in.

I was noticed halfway through. There was no shout or warning. Some of the undead just turned their eyes toward me, then hurriedly shuffled to form a defensive line.

That was actually helpful, since it gave me a good indication of the mage's position.

I broke into a run. The undead couldn't keep up with me, but they didn't need to. They were far closer and by the time I had the necromancer in my sight, they were clustered and waiting.

"Fuck that", I hissed, swirling to face the crowd.

They were so damn many that it might as well be raining grey flesh.

I stomped and growled, chasing the fear away with rising rage. My home, my dear home. Those poor rabbits. I wasn't forgiving those that tried to harm them. I would crush them all and spit on their corpse.

"And you are the first", i growled.

I charged.

The impact felt like I slammed against a wall. The first zombies I smashed against flew back, slamming against the ones behind. Stomping on a skeleton, I swung my maul furiously, crushing skulls and breaking bones.

Two undead tried to grab my arms. I shrugged one off and slammed the handle of my weapon against the other, braining him and sending him crumbling.

Then I stepped into the mass, and it was chaos.

There was no time for thinking, no time for taking a breath or a look around. The undead were everywhere, and they came relentlessly. My world shrunk to swinging and kicking and shoving. My big brute of a weapon came handy in that. As long as I kept it moving, I could crush everything that came to me.

Still, what saved me was that the necromancers seemed to have a tough time working together. Not all the undead turned toward me, with some looking taken between the hands of two puppeteers, their limbs working to bring them in two directions at the same time.

For my part, I stopped thinking altogether. I had no time. In the end, the only things remaining were the frantic pulse inside my head and the swing of my weapon.

When the necromancer appeared in front of me, it was almost an accident.

The man was a screaming shadow as he threw a glowing hand toward me. I felt a splash and a burning sensation blossomed on my chest.

Without thinking, I swung my maul, sending the dark figure flying. The necromancer slammed against a skeleton and they both fell in a cloud of bone fragments.

Instantly, the undead around me lost their will. Some just stood there, watching me with empty eyes. Others started to walk around, moaning feebly. They all stopped coming for me.

The light pulsing wildly inside of me, I looked around. The disorientation spread like wildfire, with more and more undead falling to disarray. It stopped at some distance, with the zombies getting more focused the closer they were to another necromancer.

Cowled as the one I took down, this one moved his hands in serpentine patterns. As he did so, the undead around him recovered their wits.

Not all. A bunch of them remained lost, wandering aimlessly around and getting in the way of the others.

"Good", I huffed, happy that I got it right. Evidently, a necromancer could control only so many undead at once. You took them out and the zombies lost their will.

I couldn't see how the battle was going. I hoped that with one of the necromancers out, the rabbits would have an easier time.

My chest fizzled and smoked from where the magic had hit me. It didn't hurt much, thankfully. The wood was still part of me, so a measure of pain was unavoidable, but as long as my heartwood wasn't touched, the discomfort was manageable. I had taken a multitude of blows from the undead, but with chipped nails and teeth, they couldn't do as much as scratch my body of wood.

Around me, the undead struggled to get past their lost comrades and reach me. Now that the advantage of surprise was lost, no doubt that more and more would come for me.

Just fine by me.

I narrowed my eyes, pointing my maul at the closest necromancer.

"You're next, buddy".

I couldn't see the necromancer's face, but there was no mistaking how his gestures lost coherence for a moment.

Setting myself, I broke into a run.

I barely got a few steps in when something hit me; hard, harder than everything I ever felt.

I was thrown off my feet and tumbled on the ground, before managing to regain myself and look up.

The slimy thing was there.

Not only it was more horrible than ever close by, but it was also bigger. The skeleton had to have belonged to a giant or something, because it was taller than me, with the bones as thick as rafters. The slimy guts writhed, snaking their way in and out of the skeleton. Now that I was closer, I could see that there were pinpricks of blue flames dancing in the eye sockets of the skull. And those pinpricks, burning with gleeful malice, and that knife smile were all on me.

The skeleton stalked toward me. It used both tentacles and his limbs to move in a disjointed way, like some demented cross between a monkey and a centipede.

The jaw snapped open with a squelch and a voice, slimy like the appearance of its owner, came out together with bits of pink mucus.

"Razdan is surprised", it said, almost hissing. If I had to choose a voice for a snake, I would have chosen that one. It was suave, almost honeyed, and it dripped with danger. "A treant? Here? But Razdan did such a good job stomping all the acorns. Breaking all the saplings. Snap snap snap." He chuckled, mucus gurgling in his throat.

I scrambled to my feet.

As I took a hurried stance, my mind was running with the implications of what I just heard.

The monster stopped its stalking for a heartbeat. "Mh? No talking back? No creaking and cracking about how wicked is Razdan?" He planted a tentacle on the ground, and his smile turned wider. "A tree that is not boring? Razdan is so happy!"

He lunged; so fast that despite expecting it, I barely managed to lift my maul.

The tentacle slapped against it, the blow strong enough to make me stumble. Fast as a snake, it twirled around it, holding it.

I tried to free the weapon, but that damn thing was strong as hell.

"Razdan sent two little ones ahead". The undead drew closer. "Did you slay them, wood? Kill and crush them? Mh? Oh, do tell Razdan".

I tried to punch him, but he just drew back. Laughing, he swung a fist as big as a cartwheel to my head. Pain exploded as I was almost flung off my feet.

I kicked, planting my foot in his mid-section. Bones cracked and the guts squirmed with a squelch.

Razdan let go of my maul and stumbled back, laughing again.

"You got peep!" He said, delighted. "Razdan is so bored these days! Nothing to do. Nothing to kill. You entertain Razdan before you die, yes?"

I planted my feet, holding my maul with both hands.

"You talk too much".

Razdan laughed and launched himself at me.

I swung at his skull. The maul's head sank into the slime, cracks appearing in the bone underneath, but it didn't stop his attack. The gut thrust into my chest, caving the wood. I felt it go straight through me and to the tender heartwood underneath. It was like someone had driven a spear of fire into my lungs.

With a cry of pain, I stepped back and swung again.

My maul cleaved only the air, Razdan sliding easily to the ground and circling around me. His skeleton moved like a puppet, with the tentacles playing the strings.

A tentacle twisted around my ankle and, before I knew it, the world made a twirl.

Stars exploded in my vision as I slammed against the ground, ten feet from where I had been.

I didn't get a chance to recover: the tentacle started dragging me back.

I scrambled to the dirt, managing only to rip out fistfuls of grass.

The hell was this thing supposed to be? It wasn't a zombie and it wasn't a necromancer. Was it some kind of superior undead? His strength was unreal!

Something slammed on my back and I felt my wood give in.

With a cry, I pounded my hand on the ground and turned on my back. Just in time to see Razdan come at me from above.

The impact of his feet against my chest sent searing agony through me. Cackling madly, he started raining fists on my head.

In a panic, half-blind with pain, I tried to shield myself with my arms. But his punches fell like boulders, making my forearms rattle like branches under a storm and filling them with cracks.

Struggling to keep some lucidity, I made my chest-arms grab his ankles.

He paused in his assault to look curiously down. He laughed at the little limbs holding him.

I replied by filling my cheeks and breathing white flame to his face.

The fire engulfed him in a flash, turning him into a torch. He screamed and thrashed, trying to free his legs. I threw my arms around them, struggling to keep him blocked, while I kept feeding the flame.

He screamed wildly, writhing and kicking and hitting me. One of my abused arms gave out, snapping in a cloud of splinters. He kicked me in the face, and I lost my grip.

Screaming like a banshee, Razdan threw himself off me. I watched as he rolled desperately, trying to extinguish the flame that was consuming him.

His bones started to melt and eventually, they gave out, crumbling into grey slag. Even his movements slowed.

I thought I won.

And that it was when the guts twirled around like maddened snakes, opened their orifices wide and sprayed out jets of black slime. The slime doused the white flame instantly, wrapping the undead in a cloud of stinking steam.

I heard him laugh, like after a well-accomplished joke.

"Ah, delicious pain!"

I blinked, and he was on me.

There was no skeleton now, only a writhing mass of guts topped by a horror of a face. I tried to move, but he pinned my remaining arm down and when I tried to kick, he thrust a tentacle in my kneejoint, snapping it.

I found myself staring at a grotesque approximation of a face. A bleeding wound in the shape of a smile made for a mouth and two sockets in the slimy membrane, inside of which the two pinpricks of flame burned with mad glee.

"What was that?!" Razdan was practically gushing with excitement. "The Aiun? From a tree? Impossible! Impossible! What was that? What are you?"

Fury and terror made me feral. My answer to his questions was to reach up and sink my wooden teeth in his throat. A sharp tang of bile filled my mouth, but I couldn't pierce the membrane. It bent like it was made of rubber.

Razdan laughed and slapped me down. One of his tentacles came down on my throat, forcing my head to the ground.

"You're a strange tree!" He said, delighted. "You make Razdan entertained! I like you! But you fall for it. They all do. Razdan was not in the bones. Too bad".

I wanted to tell him where he could shove it, but his tentacles wrapped tightly around my chest and neck, cutting my voice out.

He started to squeeze. I felt my wood creak, the fibers struggling to remain together. With a jolt of terror, I realized that he was going to crush me like a watermelon.

A horn the size of a spear erupted from Razdan's neck.

The monster screamed and let go of me, before being lifted up.

Scrambling up, my body protesting loudly, I saw the patriarch of the rabbits. He stood tall, the screaming undead impaled upon his massive horn.

Razdan's tentacles waved frantically around for a moment, before stabbing down, sinking in the animal's body.

For a split second, as I saw blood spurts blossom on his fur, I thought he was about to die. But then, the patriarch jumped.

It was an incredible jump, that carried both him and the howling undead far into the air.

The patriarch twisted, turning his ponderous body around until Lazdan's body was wrapped around his and the undead's head was beneath his flank.

Then he dropped.

The impact was devastating. It shook the earth in such a way that I heard the tremors in my chest. Rocks and dirt flew all around.

As the dust settled, I slowly got up and stumbled forward.

Covered in blood, the patriarch stood like a statue of ancient times. His paw laid over the devastated remains of Razdan. The impact had shredded the monster's body, snapping the main channel of the guts and filling the ground with black slime. The stench was overpowering.

As I got close, the undead turned his head to me.

"That damn rabbit!". He didn't sound in pain or like he was dying. Only excitedly annoyed. His smile widened as the pinpricks focused over me. "You got lucky, woodman".

"You're still talking?" I panted. After that scrap, even just standing took the most out of me.

He laughed. "You're funny! You're different from the boring trees! Razdan likes you!"

Eyeing my maul in the dirt, I hobbled to it.

"Any last word?" I said, picking it up.

His grin followed me as I got close. "Oh, but it's no end. It never is. You entertain Razdan and now Razdan plays with you. Until next time, eh? Razdan makes better and comes back! Maybe Master comes too. Wait for me, woodman!"

I sealed his damn mouth with my maul.

Even half-dead as he was, it took me five hits before he finally stopped moving.

He was right: I had been lucky.