Deep in the woods of Lindell was a man in a dark navy cloak. Drawn about his shoulders, the cloak revealed his tight figure clearly in the moonlit clearing. Another man was with him, pushed up against a tree by the cloaked mans strong hand. No crickets chirped around them, and no wolves howled. They were alone.

The mysterious man loosened his hold on the other man's shirt and pushed back his hood to reveal jet black hair. "Are you sure?" he seemed to ask the other man as he clenched and unclenched his fist that had ahold of the shorter man's shirt. His green eyes were menacing in the darkness of the woods. There had been several rumors throughout the past few years about it being haunted by "zombies".

"Yes Owen I'm sure!" The man whined in a shrilly voice as he struggled against the man named Owens' grip. "He said a man attacked him in the woods. H-he said the man bit him." The short man looked up at Owen, his brown eyes pleading with him to not get angry. Everyone knew of his uncontrollable rage when he became angered, and nobody dared give him a reason to use the bow that was so snugly fit to his back. Everyone had seen him use it at least once before, and nobody was in a hurry to see it again.

Owen cursed as he turned from the man and rubbed his hand down his rough featured face. "Very well." he sighed in defeat. "Thank you apprentice, you may head back to camp. Please inform Brian that I am going to go have a look around."

"Yes, my lord." the apprentice said dutifully as he stumbled away from the tree and ran towards the archers' camp, leaving Owen behind in the dark woods of Lindell to discover what exactly fate had in store for him.

A few hours later Owen was still wondering the woods. He had began at the place where John had claimed to have been bitten by a man. Crouching down to survey the area, he spotted a small puddle of what seemed to be dried blood, soaked into the leaves and debris. "What the…" he murmured under his breath as he moved across the forest floor where he saw another couple of drops a few feet away. Cautiously, he followed the trail of what seemed to be blood into a deeper part of the forest. A place where monsters supposedly resided.

As the blood trail thinned, Owen began to hear odd shuffling noises. Like feet being drug heavily through leaves. Carefully, he slipped his bow from his back and took an arrow from his quiver before readying it at his bow. The noises became louder as he pulled the hood of his cloak up to cover his eyes, and camouflage himself from whatever he was about to face.

Placing his back to a tree close to where the noises were coming from, he closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer to the gods. "Protect me spirits," he muttered as he swung himself around the tree, his bowstring pulled tight beneath the force of his fingers.

In the small clearing where Owen was standing, there stood a man bent over, his tattered clothes hanging limply from his starving frame. Slowly, Owen went closer to investigate.

"Are you alright?" Owen asked the man as he stepped forward and lowered his bow to see what was the matter. He put a hand on the man's shoulder just as his head lifted up. Owen let out a gasp of horror as he let go of the man and took a few startled steps backward. Looking up at Owen from the "man's" face was a vacant decaying creature that was definitely NOT human.

And as Owen stared in horror, it lunged for him. Moaning and grumbling it's way toward him, trying to bite him.

For many years later, the dead could not rest
And for many years, neither could the living.