My beloved pet dashed between my legs as the zombie hastily approached us. In a blazing swing, I struck the enemyo s temple with the hefty torch and forced him to take a few steps backward, allowing time for me to retrieve my iron blade that rested upon the improvised log bench I had been reclining on moments before. Without hesitation, I lashed out with the surprisingly white sword in a fury of four swift swings.



A feeble groan escaped the living-deado s decomposing lips, then he collapsed to the soil from whence he came.



I could hardly regain my composure, panting heavily, but I forced myself into a rigid posture when my dear friend emerged from my overturned knapsack. I beamed out of pure relief that he remained unharmed. o Ito s alright, little guy,o I assured him, despite my disheveled appearance.



The small pooch leapt into my arms and began to vigorously lick the side of my unshaven face; however, before I was able to respond, I heard that same mournful melody of rattling bones, but much nearer than earlier. An instant later, my ears detected the flutter of an arrowo s fletching cutting the nighttime air.



The slight noise only lasted a second, and as I stood with my pup cradled against my wide chest, I could feel an immediate jolt of extreme pain burst from my left shoulder blade. The arrow had hit its mark.