"Seriously, have you two ever thought about therapy?"

The outburst brought the two bickering women's attention back to the zombie leading the shambling horde towards the small village on the kingdom's outskirts. Several zombies halted behind their leader, waiting with the kind of patience only the dead possess. The two adventures had left the capital that morning, and they were already battling a horde of undead.

"What?" Britina growled. Her usually well-combed, shoulder-length blond hair was now a tangled mess. If her hair was any indication of how her day had been, her dress made it clear. Her usually pristine, long blue dress was now in tatters; the right sleeve barely hung on, and holes riddled the fabric. At this rate, she would need a whole new wardrobe again. Thanks to Prunhiline again.

"I was just saying you two could use some therapy. You've been bickering for the last twenty minutes. If you don't mind, we are hungry and want to dine at yonder village." The zombie pointed with half a finger towards the village behind the pair.

Prunhiline, the warrior, hefted her massive five-foot war hammer, glaring at the zombie who just wouldn’t shut up. She had never met a zombie who talked as much as this one, and she hated it. Zombies moaned and were crushed by her war hammer; it was that easy.

Prunhiline's normally unruly, short brown hair was now singed from Britina's fireball. Her armor was scorched in several places where she’d taken the brunt of the spell. "Not today, dead boy!" She yelled.

"Well, that wasn't very nice, " said the zombie. We are just interested in some dinner." The other zombies groaned and nodded in agreement.

"I agree with Prunhiline. You will not dine today." Britina stepped next to her companion while preparing her next fire spell.

"And whom will stop us?" Asked the now irritated zombie. The other zombies behind him moaned with encouragement. By default, he was their leader, given he was the most articulate of the horde.

"We will!" The pair yelled together.

"Yet, you've been fighting each other. Who are you?" The lead zombie asked, licking his cracked lips with a swollen tongue.

"We have been appointed as official protectors of the realm by the king," said Britina proudly. "I am Lady Britina, Fifth Circle of the Grand Magi. And this is my wife, Prunhiline." Her voice shifted from pride to annoyance at the end.

Prunhiline took this as her turn to introduce herself. "I am Prunhiline, warrior of the planes, protector of the kingdom, killer of the Torrak, slayer of the dragon Maloon, protector of the village..."

"Dear love, we don't have time for your entire title," Britina interjected, cutting her off. Prunhiline scowled at her.

"Protectors of the realm? Yet you, too, are bickering like children. Why did you two get married?" The zombie interrupted them before they could begin their bickering again.

"It was… by accident." Britina sighed. It was a long, long story.

"Look, us being married isn't the point. If she hadn't hit me with her fireball spell, I would have already re-killed all of you." Prunhiline sneered.

"Well, if you hadn't jumped in front of me while I was casting, you wouldn't have been hit, and they would be incinerated. Instead, you fell back onto me, causing me to rip my dress and misfire my next spell. I’m going to run out of dresses before we get to the Dwarven capital!" Britina shot back, gesturing down at her torn clothes.

"I'm the warrior; I'm supposed to take point and charge into battle while protecting you." Prunhiline lowered her weapon while turning to the mage. "That's my job!"

"Oh, yes, the warrior charging into battle. Did you think that maybe I could cast a spell that would end this quickly?" The mage lowered her arms and looked at the warrior.

"I'm supposed to protect you!" Exclaimed Prunhiline.

"Well, maybe I don’t need protecting; maybe you should consider that I don’t want you getting hurt," Britina replied.

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"I don't get hurt!" Prunhiline pouted. "I'm a warrior!" She pounded her armored chest.

"Warrior or not, you can get hurt. Remember that incident with the dragon." Britina said softer this time. (Yes, dear reader, that’s another story for another day.)

"That wasn't as bad as you thought it was." Prunhiline turned away from the mage.

"What! We both almost got eaten!" Britina exclaimed.

"Speaking of eating, if you don't mind, we will be on our way." Said the zombie as he and the other zombies attempted to shamble by the two.

"No!" They both yelled back.

"Fine, then. How about you both agree to go to therapy? You seem to have some issues that need to be worked out." The zombie wasn't giving up. He was beginning to annoy both women.

"We don't need therapy." Growled Britina. "We need to be more careful."

"Careful! We never get anywhere fast enough when we are careful!" Prunhiline was ready to fight.

"You could get hurt!" Britina shouted.

"I'm supposed to keep you from getting hurt!" Prunhiline shouted back.

"But I don't want you getting hurt trying to protect me!" Britina matched Prunhiline’s volume.

"It's my job!" Prunhline shouted.

"No!" Shouted Britina.

"Yes!" Shouted Prunhiline.

The zombie hoard was now getting impatient. It had taken them all morning to shamble from their graves across the field to the village. They were hungry and tired, or as tired as the undead could be. These two odd adventurers were making them late, and they hated to be late.

"You don't understand!"

"You don't get it!"

This was getting ridiculous, and they had dinner reservations.

"Enough!" Shouted the zombie. Pointing to Britina, "As a mage, you should be expected to be careful since you are squishy." Britina's mouth dropped at the mention of being squishy. He then swung his half-rotted finger towards Prunhiline, "The warrior should be on point and pull the monster, us apparently, from attacking the mage, you." He continued his lecture. "Seems standard procedure to me." The zombie raised his decaying finger with a flourish, filling the air with a smell that left the two women nauseated. He would have rolled his eyes but feared they would have dislodged again.

"Well, yes," Britina mumbled, embarrassed. "Standard procedure and all that."

"Yeah, that's how we roll. She's the squishy, and I'm the tank! I take it, and she gives it!" Yelled Prunhiline proudly as she did a little dance.

"Don’t call me 'squishy,'" Britina glared, clearly annoyed.

"But you are." She pointed down at the mage and gestured at her busty five-foot-nine frame. Britina blushed at the sudden attention to her body. Unlike Prunhiline, she had some modesty.

"Enough!" Yelled the zombie before they could get back to bickering. He pointed his rotting finger back at Prunhiline. "As a warrior, you should also be more careful. She is the mage and should be attacking from afar. You charging in without a plan keeps her from accurately attacking your enemy again, which seems to be us. As I said, standard procedure." Prunhiline dropped her gaze to the ground, embarrassed. “Since you are heroes of the realm, teammates, and apparently married, shouldn’t you two have practice things like this?”

The two women looked at each other. They both seemed embarrassed by being called out by the zombie.

“We do.” They said together.

“Well, then, stick to your training. You both seemed to have lost your focus.” The zombie said, "And as I said, you both need therapy, and we have dinner reservations!"

"You are not eating those villagers!" Britina raised her hands, drawing power to her spell as Prunhiline hefted her oversized war hammer ready for battle.

"Eat them?!" exclaimed the zombie. "How dare you claim such a thing. We, my dear, are vegetarian zombies. We dine every Tuesday at the inn." The other zombies looked at each other, shocked by the idea.

Britina dropped her hands once again as Prunhiline lowered her weapon. They stood shocked at the zombie's declaration. Vegetarian zombies?

"You've got to be kidding me!" Prunhiline yelled at the zombie.

"No. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't eat anyone." The lead zombie smiled, showing off his gums and lack of teeth.

Britina covered her mouth and looked away in disgust. Prunhiline gaped at the zombies as each smiled, showing that all had most, if not all, of their teeth missing. Vegetarian zombies, this had to be a trick.

"Excuse me?" Said a man's voice from behind them. They turned to see the innkeeper wringing his apron in his hands. "I hate to interrupt, uh, this uh, battle? But they have reservations in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Jon; we will be there in a few minutes," said the lead zombie. "Ladies, would you care to join us?"

Britina and Prunhiline looked at each other, and both shrugged in agreement. They spent the next ten minutes ambling to the inn. The lead zombie, Jerald, happily conversed with the two about his life as a couples therapist.

"I have a colleague who still practices in the capital city. You should give him a visit. His name is Doctor Nixium. He's one of the best," Jerald said, giving Britina the doctor's card. "We still correspond."

"Thank you, Jerald. I think we should try therapy," Britina said, taking the zombie's card.

"Bah, we don't need therapy. In our village, we have something way better than that." Prunhiline snarled.

“And what’s that?” asked the zombie, raising a brow.

"We kill things." Britina rolled her eyes (lucky for her, she didn’t have to worry about them dislodging) at Prunhiline’s answer. According to Prunhiline, killing something was always the answer.

Since college, they'd been roommates, married (briefly and accidentally), and now, official protectors of the realm. Maybe a little therapy would do them some good. After they met with the Dwarven king, she would make an appointment.

To get Prunhiline to go, Britina knew she’d have to bribe her with her favorite treats: mammoth legs, beer, and ice cream. Maybe even a ticket to her favorite puppet show when it came to town. Britina sighed; she hated those colorful puppets.