‘It’s a tree.’

Too simple. Think.

‘It’s a birch tree.’

Stop observing and start thinking. What are you looking at?

‘Birch tree. It’s swaying in the wind. Not many leaves left, it’s going into winter. Its bark is silver and mottled, bits of moss here and there. It’s a living thing, unlike me.”

Better. Now breathe and keep thinking.

His undead body didn’t benefit from the action of breathing but it was soothing, calling to some forgotten instinct inside him. He breathed deeply in and out, crouched on the forest floor. His long clawed hands cupped his bony face on either side as he sat with his head between his knees, trying to think.

He’d realised before that there was a cloud over his mind, a certain shroud that muddled his thoughts and emotions. In the past it wasn’t so bad, he was focused enough on the present to keep it at bay.

But as he followed Eliza and the merchant she rode with in the wagon, he experienced something he hadn’t since before he met her.

Lethargy. Apathy. Emptiness.

It crept up on him, as time progressed. He didn’t even notice it happen.

In his haze he had abandoned stealth and nearly revealed himself to the human man. It was only due to sheer luck he wasn’t noticed.

Engaging in a confused mockery of charades with the girl brought him back to consciousness, having to actually think to decipher what she meant was enough to snap him out of the fog. When she shooed him off, it hurt.

Goddamn it hurt. Because now he’d only have himself for company again.

He would have to fight off the fog again.

Just stay on top of it, he told himself. Don’t let it get you, don’t stop thinking. Keep talking to yourself, even if you can’t speak. Move your lips as if you could, just don’t stop speaking.

He kept up his internal monologue as he clutched his head, trying desperately to ignore the apathy he felt creeping into his heart.

Anyone who has suffered from anxiety knows what it feels like. That crushing, ever-encroaching feeling in your chest that threatens to drown you with every breath you take. You find yourself panting, gasping for air, fighting desperately not to drown in that writhing sea of despair.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Move, don’t stand still. It can get you if you stand still.

He stumbled forward, grasping and pulling himself past countless identical trees. Goddamn it, why did they all look the same?! Something, anything different!

Suddenly, he began to run. It wouldn’t help him escape the lethargy but it felt good, and helped him fight it off in spirit. His claws tore up the ground as he sprinted in vast strides, focusing on the feel of churning earth underneath his hands and wind on his face.

The emptiness was a familiar curse, the state he’d rested in for so long in his tomb. It was a dreadful thing, and the crushing anxiety he felt as he thought of returning to it actually helped keep it at bay. But as he ran through the woods on all fours, seeing creatures scurrying away from him as if he was death itself, something else was satisfied in him, rearing its head for the first time.

This, this was something else. But it would do, he’d embrace it.

Buddy couldn’t hold on. So he gave in.

Not to apathy, but to something else.

-

The undead stopped, suddenly becoming aware as it ceased its tireless sprint. It was on all fours like an animal, a panicked growl suddenly dying off in its throat as it became concious.

Finally. It was so hungry.

It resumed travelling but in a controlled fashion, its frenzied sprint becoming a watchful advance. Its black eyes were cast in every direction, seeking prey.

It didn’t think. There were thoughts which niggled it, certainly, but it ignored them. It wasn’t made to think. The Other One, the one who kept it trapped, he might have thought more on such irrelevant matters. But he was weak, docile, pathetic. He rejected their calling.

It began to climb, using its tall limbs and hooked claws to rapidly ascend through the trees. From its vantage point, it’d have a much easier time finding prey before they noticed it. It stalked forward, stepping between and grasping branches, walking as easily as it ever had. It wasn’t concerned with safety or appearance. It wanted blood.

Eventually, its patience rewarded it. Far below a wild griffin grazed on some vegetation, its beak snapping up the plants as its four legged body crouched, ready to spring away at the first sign of danger.

The Other One would have considered it more and formulated a plan. But it wasn’t the Other One. It didn’t think, it acted.

Dropping from its perch it descended rapidly, falling silently through the air. Instinct guided the winged creature to look up, but a second too late to react and leap away. The undead’s long claws impaled it, all four limbs aimed to skewer the joint of a different leg. The beast thrashed and beat its long heavy wings against the damp earth and grass, but was unable to dislodge its attacker. It was literally nailed in place by the undead’s claws, the black blades piercing straight through it and into the ground. It died soon after as the undead ripped out its throat with its sharp teeth.

Lifting its limbs, its claws sunk out of the earth and flesh, coming to a three legged crouch atop the griffin. Quickly, it began to devour it, shovelling meat into its toothy maw, feathers and all.

Delicious. It was the first time it had ever eaten. The Other One held them back, but it wouldn’t. Even as it felt the reigns of consciousness being taken away from it, it grinned and chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Other One. I’ll keep us safe.” It whispered.

-

Everyone experiences the sensation of almost falling asleep, then jolting awake, feeling as if they suddenly fell through the air while remaining in place.

Buddy experienced that, drawing in a deep breath as if suddenly surfacing from underwater, though he certainly didn’t need to. He had the feeling he hadn’t breathed in a while.

What just happened?

He panted looking around, eying his own body in horror as he became aware of what was beneath him. A mangled corpse, its blood coating his body.

He scrambled away from it, pressing himself up against a tree as he stared at it wide-eyed. He was no stranger to killing, he’d killed multiple people only the night before as they fled Rocksdale, but this was different. Did he do this? He didn’t remember doing it.

It was undeniably his work. Claw and teeth wounds were how almost everything in the woods died, but not from ones of that scale. Not when blood dripped from his inky black talons.

What was… he had been running, hadn't he? He'd been sprinting between the towering trees when suddenly his memory blanked. Perhaps the stress had given him a blackout.

But to kill something without remembering it at all… surely that didn't bode well. The satisfied, warm feeling in his stomach didn't either.

But as he thought about it more and compared this unexpected slaughter to the bloodshed of Rocksdale, a sudden terrifying realisation overcame him. That entire time as they fled the village, he hadn’t been acting on rational thought at all. At the time, he’d assumed it was just adrenaline, but he was literally a corpse! Did the undead even feel adrenaline? It seemed like they shouldn’t.

But if it wasn’t adrenaline, what was it? What guided him through that carnage?

Goddess. He bit off a man’s head. He’d never- he couldn’t- why did he do that? What made him do that? Why’d he only just think about it?

In fairness, he hadn't done much reflection on the night previously. But as he did then, suddenly things became a lot less clean, he realised much of it blended together for him. There were times he didn’t feel in control.

He shook his head. At least the onslaught of apathy was gone now. But what had driven it off? His blackout, or the shock that came after it?

Regardless, he’d take advantage of the sudden clarity and return to the road. His mind was clear now, he could think without getting distracted and potentially revealing himself again.

Hmm.

Now where was the road?

-

He cursed the woods. Why were there not more landmarks, why did everything look the same? To the north was a gigantic mountain, Mount Accord, his memory prompted him, which he could use as a rough reference for which way to go. He'd ran left from the road as they were heading towards the mountain. Meaning he had to go right while facing Accord.

It was actually rather peaceful. With a clear mind, he was able to observe and appreciate his surroundings with a clarity he hadn't before. Bugs skittered around on leaves with the speed and determination only short-lived insects could muster. Bees darted between the few flowers which managed to grow among the dense vegitation, swarming over them in groups as if to protect them from the elements using their own bodies. A goblin stared at him with wide eyes, jaw hanging open in pure shock.

Odd, Buddy reflected. Most animals and monsters fled from him, were goblins really that stupid they couldn't sense the danger in approaching an unliving yet animated entity?

As he stared back at it with idle curiousity, his keen eyes picked out more of the tiny figures crouched in the undergrowth.

Suddenly, one emerged from the vegetation and stood before him proudly, puffing out its tiny green chest. The sharp-featured creature wore a little girl's tiara lopsidedly between its floppy ears, along with a shoddy blanket tied around its neck to flow over its back.

At its bluster, the other goblins emerged from the bushes to stand fearfully behind it, clutching sharp sticks and acting stoic whenever the leader turned to look at one of them. Once the dozen goblins were arranged in full, the king, or queen, it was hard to tell, goblin turned to him and grinned with sharp teeth.

"BAD TALL STINKY LEAVE TREE-HOME!" It screeched. The sound was like a bird trying to speak, a shrill squawk forced into words. Buddy considered it and shrugged, raising his hands and looking around to try and indicate he didn’t know how to leave.

“BAD TALL STINKY REFUSE?! THIS MEAN GOBBY WAR!” It’s makeshift crown rattled on its head as it shook furiously. He shook his head, pointed at the goblin, pointed at himself, then spread his arms. Perhaps it was foolish of him to assume the goblin would understand this as saying ‘We’re not enemies’.

“OHHHHHHOHOHOH! BAD TALL STINKY WANT BE GOBBY KING?! BAD TALL STINKY NO EVEN GOBBY! ONLY GOBBY BE GOBBY KING!”

He shook his head and waved his arms in an attempt to-

-

“Oh for fucks sake!” It spat as it ripped itself free of it’s mental bindings. It snarled at the goblin, showing its own sharp teeth as the king suddenly lost his confidence. “You! Goblin! Where is the road? Tell me or I’ll devour you and your whole warren of dirty creatures.”

“BAD TALL STINKY MAKE THREAT? GOBBY KIN-”

It swiped its hand, wrapping its claws around the goblins throat before lifting the tiny creature into the air. The tiny green creature squeaked and flailed in its grasp, beating his tiny fists against its pale flesh.

“Last chance, worm! Tell me or die!” It roared, the ferocity of its speech tearing up its unused throat. Damn the Other One, speaking with any volume felt like hacking up knives.

“AHH! ME- me sorry! Me no want fight!” He panted fearfully, staring into the undead’s black eyes with horror. “Road where humies travel in wheel cart, yes? We can show way. We serve pale gobby king.”

It grunted, dropping the creature a considerable distance to the ground. It landed with a squeak of pain before scurrying to its feet.

“Yes, yes! This way pale king gobby, no eat good gobbies, yes?”

It sighed. Why did it have to be the one to deal with goblin diplomacy, of all things? It wanted only blood but couldn’t stand another second of its other half’s incompetency. The Other One really was useless.