I was playing in the fields by the town, running through the wheat and jumping over rocks and roots, when the first explosion rocked my senses. I couldn't tell where it was coming from at first, so I ran back through the fields to town. By the time I got through the wheat, the sight of Loheim burning greeted my vision. The orphanage was on the outskirts of the town, and the flames were nowhere near us. I gathered the smaller children, kids I'd learned to look out for, and led them inside the orphanage. The sisters were hurriedly busying themselves with preparing measures to keep the flames from burning the building if they reached us.

Then one of them, a catfolk named Pulina, shouted that someone was missing. After rechecking the count, Head Sister Vera called out "Tomas! Where's Tomas?!" He hadn't been seen since lunch, having stormed off after getting in trouble with another of the younger kids.

I wanted so bad to wish he was in town when the fire started. Trapped under rubble, screaming and crying his stupid eyes out. I wanted him to suffer for all the pain he'd caused me from the time I came here. But then I remembered the Myrmidons, my heroes, my paragons. They wouldn't let some punk kid just die if they could help it. What would Sir Hamund think of me if I didn't even try?

For such a trivial and childish reason, I ran out of the orphanage and toward Loheim, leaping over roots and dashing past rocks, stumbling to get over the fence of a farmer's field, and finally arriving at the edge of town. The flames were immense, but what drew my eye the most was the small battalion of people. Only, they weren't people. Flesh had sloughed off, revealing muscle and bone beneath, some walked with missing eyes or jaw bones, even legs or arms, and others still just crawled with only their upper half still attached. Zombies. I'd heard of these creatures in story books, but never in a million years did I think I'd see one. Thankfully, their attention was fully on the town and its inhabitants, so I was able to sneak by them quickly and quietly.

It wasn't until I was closer to the square that I heard someone crying out for help. Like a bolt, I shot through the alleyways until I came upon the source of the sound; Tomas, hounded on both sides by these zombified warriors with only a shovel to defend himself. Even now, my brain was telling me to run, to leave him and run. But something inside was lit like a fire. Instead of running away, I ran forward. My legs were tired, my heart was thumping in my throat, but I leapt at one of the zombies and let momentum do the rest, carrying its head into a wall and smashing bits of skull and brain on the brick. Its companion turned to me, and Tomas got a swing of the shovel in, the sharpened edge lopping off its head. Pure luck on our part, really.

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I sat there in the pool of blood and brains, looking up at Tomas. He had this freaked out face, a bit understandable what with us both having just witnessed and beaten down a pair of dead guys. His hands were shaking, and he dropped the shovel, which bounced across the ground with a loud 'tang'.

"Tomas? Come on, we gotta go." He didn't seem to hear me, his face still frozen in fear and adrenaline. I stood, grabbing his arm and pulling, which seemed to snap him out of his funk. He looked down at me, stunned for a moment. "You-You saved me. Why?" He asked, and for just a few seconds, I felt somehow bigger than this boy who was twice my age. "Because it's what we do, not where we come from, that defines us." A perfect mirror of what Sir Hamund told me. It felt good. I felt good, better than I ever had. "Come on, we need to run and get back to the-" His face froze again even as I was talking to him. His eyes were looking behind me, and I turned to see the alleyway filling up with the undead horde. Grabbing the shovel Tomas dropped, I shoved him away. "Go! Get back home!" He seemed shocked at my attitude, standing and preparing to book it. "What about you?"

"I'll hold em off." I hoped my commanding voice did not betray the fear in my heart. There were at least ten of them, and only one of me.

I heard a snap behind me and turned, prepared to swing the shovel at some poor undead face. And there he stood; Tomas, armed with the spear of a zombie, the arm still attached to it from the elbow down. I just couldn't help but look at him incredulously. "What are you doing, stupid?"

"You should run. I'm bigger and stronger, you're just a kid."

"You crazy? If I go back without you, they'll make my ass even redder than it already is!"

"I don't wanna know what color your ass is, just go!"

"We don't have time to argue. Here they come!"

It wasn't my best fight, not by a long shot. But within a few minutes, we managed to take out six of them by leading them through the cramped alley one at a time. Zombies are decidedly dumb as a box of rocks. We ran through the alleys to find a way out, but as we exited onto the streets once more, a horn sounded, its call reverberating around Loheim. "Gah, the hells is that?" Tomas groaned, rubbing his ears. "How should I know? Come on, we need to go home!" I retorted, only to stop in my tracks. My body froze, not a single muscle obeying my command to move. My voice faltered, my heart catching in my throat and my lungs barely managing to squeeze out any air. Tomas was suffering the same problem as a robed figure descended from the sky, a skeletal hand pointing down at us. "Seize them, my chiiiildren." A voice rang out from the figure, like daggers of ice to my heart. Zombies surrounded us, lifting us up and carrying our still paralyzed forms to the town square.