There are so many ways to skin a cat and only one way to skin a potato. According to his head chef, Anthony was always doing it the same wrong way.

"I'm just happy that I can use my arms," he said from the makeshift wheelchair. Really it was a modified, dwarf sized wheelbarrow with an attached chair that he had stolen, but the dwarf wouldn't care. Being dead made that part difficult. "You really should not be trying to help us," Bob, head scout and baker of the group, said. "Or finding more of those hair ties. The girls are going to flip when they see you found another one."

Anthony's back had been nearly broken in half when he was kicked off a ten foot tall wall, and a six foot tall undead muscle mommy jumped on him. It had been the most trying time of his new life. He didn't go down without a fight. Someone had dragged him out of the action and saved him and he was forever grateful. But two days in the infirmary had been enough.

The entire caravan had dropped by once he was awake, one at a time. More than anything, the show of solidarity felt like the caravan was turning into a team. Someone had even made him a new hair tie, which he had put to good use. His top bun, a classic style for the modern man, complemented his beard. He wasn't so much a hipster as someone who knew his way around product.

Anthony wore a loose green gambeson over gray workman's pants, a custom order that had been made by one of his many new friends. Bob wore a similar one with brown stripes, though he often had a dark cloak to cover up his entirely bald head. Bob was the only person in the caravan that shaved, aside from the monks.

Anthony felt his lower back where he was certain that a disc had slipped or skipped.

It had taken the better part of two days to get up from laying down and he had earned every bit of progress. The scrubs that he had come to this world in had been ripped and replaced by more contemporary wear. His girlfriend would get a chance to sew his pants together, using his scrub bottom for her pajamas. She had already stolen his scrub top, but she looked damn good in it and he wasn't going to argue.

"Are you feeling good, Anthony? Almost ready for the council meeting?"

"I think it's time. I'll need your support, and if Finley is still out we'll need to make a decision soon."

Anthony had worked too hard on getting his patients up and moving to ever fall into the trap of being afraid to get up and out. Sure he missed midwifery, and delivering babies with his son from time to time, but out here? He had a chance to make a difference in a way that he hadn't expected.

No babies though, which was a bit of a let down. Half of the fun of delivering babies was seeing them safely hanging out with their tired, grumpy mothers. Every delivery was a lot of preparation work and then a few bouts of absolute concentration. His business on earth, Father and Sons Midwives- it had been a family affair that he had groomed his two sons to take over. There were not many midwifery outfits in the city, and fewer still that were all male. Anthony had wanted a daughter but his ex-wife had seen fit to not honor that request.

"I know that I'm bad at this, but you don't have a lot of options. I'm not going to have someone who is fully able-bodied do this when I can," Anthony said. "Everyone needs to contribute."

Bob gave him a bit of a side eye. As his second in command, Anthony was willing to entertain Bob's ideas up to a point. Bob had wanted to change several things in their organizational structure, to which Anthony had to let him down softly. He wasn't going to change anything major right at the moment. Perhaps it was his entrepreneurial spirit clashing with Bob's, but neither man really wanted to be the other one's boss.

Fifteen people were a bit unwieldy. Thanks to their experience running from zombies, they were about as close as a trauma bond could bring a group to be.

"I'm just saying that you don't need to be doing this. You can rest. Weren't you a nurse before? Aren't they all about listening to medical advice? Well as your field medic, you damn well need to rest."

Anthony wouldn't give in so easily.

"You got your medical advice from a card skill. I got mine in nursing school," Anthony said, smiling. "This isn't a bakery, Bob. I am not any type of cake."

"You probably would be like a chocolate cake. You are dependable, sweet and classic."

Bob had been a D-list celebrity chef before he had been summoned as the chosen ranger of Mork, the god of death, math and scouting. Anthony had been chosen to be a cleric of Yil, goddess of crafters. Anthony wasn't sure exactly what had happened between this world and the previous one for Bob, but he was a bit wrapped up in his role.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Twelve other people had been summoned around the same time. Bob and Anthony had rescued them from an intelligent zombie overlord- a death knight. It was the first encounter between the two of them and it went so well that they had banded together. Of course they did it in Finley's ride. Finley the elf had picked up Anthony when he had been summoned and been his faithful companion since then. Finley had been the only member of the caravan who had been born on Noverra. That was until they had met two orcs at their last stop in Arva.

"Do you think that the scouts are ready to salvage the Green fang tribe area?" Anthony said. "We can talk about that at the council meeting."

"They're ready, but we will probably need an empty cart. Andrew is nearly done with our fourth cart. Borgan said that the orcs should have a suitable caravan to bring back so we'll be bringing extra horses with us."

"You might also find out if the zombies can turn horses. Assuming that the orcs used horses to move their tents and caravans. If we pick up a few more caravans this road trip will be a lot easier. Harder on the horses, for sure though," Anthony said. His eye twitched as he put the final potato down. The seat in his makeshift wheelchair wasn't nearly as comfortable as he wanted it to be. "Did you hear anything about that cane that Andrew was making?"

"I would ask Stella to check but since you took her place peeling potatoes, I can't," Bob said. "You are going to need some help, aren't you?"

"If you're offering, I'll take it."

"I guess this is fine, the soup needs to be cooked a little bit. You want me to wheel you over to Andrew?" Bob said, moving to the back of the wheelchair.

"Absolutely."

Bob wheeled Anthony around the back of the infirmary where a tent covering draped over a large salvage pile of metal. It wasn't that he couldn't walk. He could, with some assistance. But for the sake of saving face, Anthony was willing to listen to his field medic and head chef.

Andrew was a four and half foot tall dwarf. Of the caravan, he was the only one to have been summoned from a different world than Earth. He hadn't spoken much about his home world and from what Anthony picked up, they didn't have magic the same way that there was magic here.

"Oh hey, Anthony. The wheelbarrow looks good. Or maybe we should give it a better name like the chair barrow? You holding up okay, lad?"

Bob slowed down the wheelchair, getting close enough to the artificer's area to inhale the fumes. Brass and smoke permeated the area.

"How is your flame flinger? Thanks Bob," Anthony said, fist bumping Bob as he returned to the fire pit.

"Council meeting tonight, Anthony. Don't forget!" Bob said.

"Yeah I'll be there. I run the meeting anyways," Anthony said, turning to the dwarf. "So the flinger?"

"If you must know, lad, it survived several tests but we may need a complete overhaul before we use it again. I was going to see if I could get Zan to help me do some target practice later today. Just test it out. Did you want to be a target?"

"Probably not this time, Andrew. I think that I'll sit this one out. Plus where are you going to do the testing? I don't want a big fire in here and we have a fair amount of grass left inside of the walls."

Two meter tall thick earthen walls surrounded the two acres that their staging grounds occupied. This wasn't a natural occurrence, Sonya the warlock had an affinity for earth magic. She had been the woman behind their best defense, creating a tower defense system that would be a nightmare for their enemies if the zombies had any intelligence. Arva, the rural dwarven town that they had occupied had been forcibly depopulated.

"We'll be setting up in the center of town. It's got the least amount of long grass. The band had gone through and finally finished salvage operations here. Anything we could get use out of is here now. That also means that if I burn down a building or two that nobody's going to care."

"That... Should be fine then. Just have someone nearby that can put out flames," Anthony said, narrowing his eyes. "We don't want a repeat of the goat incident."

"How was I supposed to know about the-" Andrew began, taken aback.

"We don't talk about it. He works in mysterious ways."

The man and the dwarf shuddered.

"Anyway, is that cane ready? I think I need to get out of this wheelbarrow before my back mutinies."

"Are you supposing that you are a pirate ship and your bones are the pirates?" Andrew said, diving into his pile of salvaged wooden planks and metal. "You humans and your life on the seas. I would never choose to be on a boat unless it was entirely necessary. I barely want to be in a caravan."

A goat behind them bleated.

"Jeez!" Anthony said, nearly jumping out of his chair.

"I got it here. Weird that so many goats showed up, right?"

They took a second to look at the goat which, according to its face, had decided to grant them the dubious honor of its presence. The goat wasn't put upon by them watching but it looked like it was trying to get into Andrew's area.

"Back, foul goat! Try again later!" Andrew said. "Pardon, me sir, but did you get a chance to look at the loot we got? There are a lot of cards and card pieces. Some of us wanted to start sifting through the cards. If nothing else, we would see if there is a card that helps grow food. That seems to be something that virtually every card has lacked- the ability to grow food."

"When Finley wakes up, we're going to ask him about that. I can add that to the list of questions that are burning me up inside. I feel like once I'm able to stop using all the healing powers by myself then I can trade a lot closer to fixing him."

Andrew was elbow deep into a pile that looked like it was going to suck him in.

"Do you think you're going to get him back up to speed? He's been down for two days. Isn't he still missing one of his arms?" Andrew said, holding out a long metal shaft.

"He's coming back. He has to," Anthony said, gingerly accepting Andrew's hand and standing up. "I think that I can make this work."

Anthony tested out the cane, realizing that one side was far worse than the other. He quickly changed sides. Now the cane felt more natural. He took a few exploratory steps.

"You think you can make the cane work out or Finley?"

"Har har," Anthony said, attempting a swagger walk. Predictably, it ended as bad as it could with him tweaking his knee. Of course, he was not going to wince or let Andrew know anything about this current situation.

"Lad, you're young so maybe you haven't seen a lot of death but if he doesn't make it, we need to have a plan."

Anthony paused his promenade.

"I just want you to know that I haven't been in contact with the people that can affect this change so he will be back. That's just a fact. That's not hyperbole or me doing some positive thinking business. I have a feeling that all of these goats have something to do with our elf friend's recovery."

"All right then."