Fletcher sat upon a rooftop looking over the town as multiple trading convoys moved around selling goods. A morning fog rolled across the valley bringing a cool breeze with it. He still couldn't believe he was in this world. But change was coming and Fletcher could feel it. The cows were mooing more than normal and the iron golems looked nervous as if they knew something we didn't. The lamas from the caravans acted the weirdest spitting on the ground multiple times for no reason. Fletcher looked farther down the valley and saw a few zombies waddling around, alive because of the morning fog. But then he saw a flash and a hole in the ground where a sheep had been. Fletcher stood up squinting in the distance. Then he saw it, three withers flying toward the town barely visible through the fog. Fletcher unsheathed his sword and shield and put on his armor, running toward the town garrison