Hauling and stacking wood was repetitive. It was normal, soothing in a mind-numbing way, good, honest, back-breaking work, the kind of work humans had done for millennia. Work that, when occasionally required, Valerie didn’t mind and at times secretly enjoyed.

Dragging corpses onto pyres under the blood-red setting sun was less natural, although, considering the bloodiness of human history, perhaps just as traditional.

The reason for doing so —

“Hurry up, you lazy oafs, unless you want to be out here after dark!”

— well, her sense of normalcy was gone, anyway. She did have a talking mouse on her shoulder.

A short, muscled knight, some vice-captain or similar under Paladin Mirror, shouted across the plains. He had a voice amplification skill, and he seemed to relish using it at every opportunity, and then some.

“Really wish I could help, but you humans are just so big,” Elro apologized for the seventh time that morning.

It was obvious why a mouse couldn’t drag a human body — except for a couple of unusually large mouse knights whom Elro called “cheese-brained muscleheads” — but she could understand Elro’s feeling of uselessness. She’d felt it plenty as a Paladin-appoint with only three Levels. “Are there no mice among the dead?”

“Very few.”

A few of the less hale members of the Order of Light, the young, the old, and the new, were working with a group of civilian volunteers outside the city walls to burn the bodies of those who fell fleeing to the city.

Burn, not bury. Lingering attachments could lead to the dead coming back to life in an unseemly fashion, and the people who were buried hastily in mass graves tended to have “lingering attachments.” From what she’d heard, even fire didn’t prevent the occasional vengeful person from returning to life as a specter, but it would at least prevent a zombie horde.

“One of the benefits of being small. Even mice on the front lines were able to survive. Big humans make for big targets, and mice are good at running.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s not all moonlight and dancing. You want to know where the most mice died? At the front gate. Trampled during the mad rush into the city.”

They lived unseen, and they died unseen.

“You all right?”

Valerie’s partner, the girl across the corpse from her, had stumbled. Palla. In her late teens, one of the refugees. She’d apparently volunteered not just to join the corpse cleanup but to join the Order.

“I’m … fine,” Palla responded between heaving breaths. “Just … need a moment.”

“I can finish loading these last few,” Valerie offered. “Why don’t you ask if anyone wants us to swing by?”

Palla nodded gratefully and headed off.

Neither of them were particularly strong, so they were handling smaller corpses. Palla was not physically strong, but her mental fortitude surprised Valerie. Amusingly in a very dark way, their job may have been the most gruesome. A large number of the bodies in their cart had belonged to children.

Because of that, they were stopped by the other volunteers quite often. Many of the civilian volunteers were refugees, like Palla, driven in part by a desire to identify the dead. The saddest few were the ones whom Valerie had taken to driving their cart to on each trip before heading to the pyre. A handful of parents checking dozens of faces, hoping they wouldn’t find what they were looking for.

In reality, not finding them was hardly better. By this time, anyone not inside Castia’s walls was likely dead.

The ablest members of the Order of Light were not performing this critical task because they were off performing a more critical task.

Like the one miserable sortie she’d participated in a week ago, the Order of Light in Castia had sortied from the gates every day the past week. On several days they’d sortied twice. While initially, they’d rescued a few villagers hiding in cellars and basements, over the past several days, they hadn’t managed to find anyone alive. Only the Priests still talked about searching for survivors; during meals and in the halls, when Priests were out of earshot, the knights and Paladin Mirror’s discussions of which villages they should ride to next revolved solely around killing Twisted and burning bodies.

She wasn’t participating in the sorties. That had been a mistake. Paladin Light had made that abundantly clear the morning after the sortie.

He hadn’t been angry with her. It was frustrating, arrogant, even, that he’d been more upset with himself than her. He’d apologized — apologized! — for bringing her on the sortie. No matter how low Level she was — and dropping the girl off at the orphanage had nothing to do with it — her conduct was her responsibility.

What was more frustrating was that Paladin Light had left for Rhinia a couple of days later. Her poor performance would be his most recent memory of her for a while.

Why had he chosen her as Paladin, anyway? It didn’t make sense. As she’d learned from Elro, Paladins were usually chosen as children and trained for years before being granted the Blessing. It was not a thing to be bandied about. Of course, every time she brought it up, Elro insisted that if Paladin Light had chosen her, then she surely deserved it and shouldn’t worry about it.

In the days since, while Paladin Mirror led the main forces of the Order of Light on sorties, she’d worked with other members of the Temple on various tasks — there was too much to do and not enough hands to do them — but the bulk of their time was spent burning bodies. It was time-sensitive, and the guards didn’t have manpower to spare, barely keeping up with the needs of the influx of refugees.

Gruesome, but important work. Better yet, it gave her time to think.

It was her first time alone in this world, without Amelia, without Paladin Light — for some reason Elro’s presence didn’t bother her, like an attentive, self-sufficient pet — and she’d finally had a chance to think through her situation.

However and whyever she’d come to this world, it seemed more and more unlikely she’d find out any time soon. She was an anomaly. She had to find people who might know how to send her home, the researchers and scientists of this world, and perhaps repositories of knowledge like libraries or universities. In the meantime, the Order of Light was a good place to be. Power — political and social status, and Blessings — and respect were available to her in copious amounts here, both of which would open doors, one of which would hopefully lead home. She hadn’t encountered any better offers, and, considering how poorly the refugees in Castia were being treated, she was lucky to have ended up with the Order of Light. So she’d laid out a simple plan: assimilate into the Order of Light and then find a way home.

Simple, right?

Of course, it wouldn’t be smart to take in an orphan while training to be a Paladin and trying to learn how to fit in in this world. She had enough to worry about, hiding her background. And it would be unfair to the girl to pretend to raise her, pretend to care, while planning to leave, possibly suddenly and without warning. It would be cruel.

Stolen story; please report.

The last body, face down in the grass, was small, but, to Valerie’s relief, when turned over revealed a young woman, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties. Rent in the back by a Stalker by the looks of the long gash in her back. Still grim, but there was something so unsettling about handling child corpses. How many more could she handle before losing a few screws? If she had any left.

“Would you have taken her in, Elro?”

“What? Who?”

“Amelia.”

“Oh … she’s human, so I don’t think — ”

“If she were a mouse. Would you have taken her in?”

“Valerie … no one judges you for giving her to the orphanage. That’s a personal decision.”

Damn mouse. Too nice to give her a straight answer.

Grunting, Valerie supported the corpse with a knee as she struggled to lever the corpse onto the cart. Damn, how embarrassing would it be if Palla came back and Valerie had to ask for help on the last one?

The auroch — an oversized muscular ox-like creature with long, curving horns — hitched to the cart snorted, but soon returned to munching on the tall grass. Incredible it could keep its appetite surrounded by the smell of death.

Sorry, girl. I hope you’re in a better place than this.

She let the girl’s feet fall to the ground and kicked and heaved to get the torso onto the cart. When the upper body was safely stable on the back of the cart, she hopped up and sat next to it, catching her breath.

“Elro, I appreciate your tact, but I appreciate your honesty more, so I’ll try to be honest with you.”

Then she trained a stare at the mouse riding her shoulder, who looked uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons.

“Lately I’ve been — I feel like the whole world — everything has flipped upside-down. I don’t know where to start or begin. Even before that, I, sometimes I — I screw up. I screw up terribly in ways that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. If only I’d listened, maybe … so please, I need to know: do you think I shouldn’t have given her up?”

Elro ran in tiny frantic circles on her shoulder before sighing and settling back into his normal position.

“I didn’t mean to patronize you,” Elro said slowly, “it’s … it’s a difficult question.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Mice and humans don’t carry the same attitudes toward raising their young. It’s different in other countries, but in Rhine, due to our closeness with the Temple of Light, there’s a law that requires humans to allow mice in their homes if we ask and follow their rules. It’s not popular with all humans, but for the most part, we get along. Humans break off a bit of their food and we keep things clean and perform odd jobs. We’re like house spirits in many ways, including staying unseen during the day.

She could imagine that. Who wanted mice living in their homes? Even if they could talk. If anything, being unseen made them creepier, more like pests. Had any tried to be more visible, like pets?

“Unlike human infants, mouse pups can start waddling around within a week and can speak within months. I can’t imagine taking care of an infant for years. Mouse pups need lots of sleep — two thirds of the day, thereabouts, and the other third of the day is school — so until they gain their first Blessing, they spend all their time with their classmates. On days off, they tend to roam around in packs, going from house to house to play with human children or find treats or get into all sorts of mischief.

“So when a mouse pup loses their parents, Aver forbid, their daily life doesn’t change much until after their first Blessing, except the whole community looks out for them. We don’t have the institution of orphanages. So I’m not sure how to answer your question. My wife has laid down her paw in having no more litters — one litter of three was enough for her. If I encountered an orphaned pup, I’d shelter them for a few days, then find the right classmates to introduce them to. In a way, I think it sounds rather similar to what you did.”

“Thanks, Elro.”

She hoped the orphanage treated their orphans with as much care as the mice did. The other orphans had seemed happy, hadn’t they? They’d had lots of room to play, and from what she’d gathered, they didn’t have a shortage of food, well, beyond the current food shortage for the entire city given that they were under siege.

She stood up and grabbed the corpse’s legs. Leaning far back, her body weight began tugging the rest of the girl up onto the cart.

“When I see humans with their children, it makes me wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Should I home school them? They’re closer to their teacher than Refa and me. Even though the school isn’t far — I could visit them every day while they sleep — and I see them during breaks and holidays and in the winter, every time they come home they’re so much bigger, they speak differently, they hold themselves differently, they’ve had so many experiences I don’t know of. They — sometimes they feel like strangers.

“But this might mean they receive good Blessings when they come of age. They’ll know things and have opportunities that I never had. In the end, it’s what’s best for them, right? I don’t know your situation, but I know you were thinking of her. Still are.”

With a heave, the girl’s feet came fully onto the cart bed, and let her down as gently as she could.

“We can hope.”

Standing atop the cart, she could see far on the rippling plains of green-black grass. It wasn’t just the blood-drenched lighting — the grass here grew in a variety of colors, but none were a shade of green she was used to. The lightest blades were colored like dark olives, and the darkest were a pitch black that made her blink and wonder whether it was truly grass. And, increasingly, clumps of unnatural Twisted purple were sprouting up.

The waist-high grass hid the bodies well. Without mice to sniff them out, theirs would be a nearly impossible task. Groups of two or three, their mice too small to see at this distance, waded across the plains loading corpses into carts.

Today should be the last day. They were canvassing the final area on this side of the city, the side the refugees had entered on. Finally. It would be nice to work on anything else.

“Look at that,” Elro said, close to her ear, though she’d gotten used to it. “Who’s that? A guard?”

Valerie turned to see what Elro was looking at and felt the odd sensation of Elro’s tiny feet moving to keep him pointed in the same direction. From the city gates, a man in leather armor and a side sword ran out toward the nearest group of corpse gatherers, who pointed at Valerie.

“Looks like we’ve got company.”

More work.

Valerie felt she ought to say something before their conversation was cut off. Elro had opened up to her, far more than she had. Without him, she would’ve been completely lost in this world. With him, she was fitting in more than she had any right to. He was so easy to talk to. Had that been Paladin Light’s intent when he’d chosen Elro to guide her?

With a small jump, she hopped off the cart — though it had only been a few days, with all this physical work she felt as though she was in better shape than she had been in years — and with some not so gentle tugs she managed to get the Auroch to stop eating and start pulling the cart toward the city.

“I don’t know what’s best for them,” Valerie said, “and, though it doesn’t count for much, I think your pups are lucky to have you as their father.”

Elro chuckled. “Thanks. It matters more than you think.”

“Second Vice-Captain?” The guard shouted as he neared. He was young, in his teens, if that. Good at running, if his relaxed breathing was something to judge by. Quick eyes sized up Valerie. “Are you the Second Vice-Captain?”

“I am. What do you need?”

The boy’s head turned back and forth like a weathervane. “Sorry? What?”

“Right here.” Elro waved a paw.

The boy’s eyes widened and his face reddened. “Ah, haha, sorry. Uh, my apologies, I didn’t notice — nothing — nothing against mice, you know. Grew up with a family in my — ”

“I understand. You seemed like you were in a hurry?”

“Oh! Yes. To the Second Vice-Captain of the Holy — ”

“— you can skip the titles —”

“Ah! Thank you — your presence is requested at the guard house.” The boy smiled after delivering his very short message.

“Is there a reason for this? We’re doing an important task here.” Elro motioned to the cart.

After a sniff and a wrinkling of his nose, the realization of the cart’s content dawned visibly on the boy’s face.

“Oh, I don’t think you can bring that into the city…right, uh, it’s an emergency.”

“And?”

“Um, the matter is rather sensitive.” He leaned in and lowered his voice, as though they weren’t in the middle of a field with no one around. “You know the haunted mansion in the nobles’ district? The guards wanted to use it to house refugees. We thought it was a rumor like everybody else, you know, a place that kids talk up — ”

Kids? He was a kid himself.

“ — so they can do dares and pranks and such, but when we investigated last night, a guard died. The thought is — we’d like to request an exorcism.”

Dear Lord. An exorcism? That was so far out of her wheelhouse it may have been in another world. And Elro was a Holy Knight, not a Priest. Even she knew that, and she’d been here less than a week.

“Any idea what’s haunting it?” Elro asked.

“I’ve heard — and you should talk to the guard who was there last night, I don’t really know much — but I overheard the guys talking about it say it’s a banshee.”

“Light above.”

It looked like they’d be leaving the unloading of this cartload to Palla.