Deeper into the forest they ran. Somewhere among the trees they encountered Tabitha atop the horse, with Alice riding behind. She dismounted clumsily and raced to take her proffered daughter from Dravoth's arms.

'We stopped to rest,' said Alice, 'and I'm not sure, I must have dozed off, because I opened my eyes and she was gone. You saved her life.'

'She saved mine,' said Dravoth. He looked Violet in the eyes. 'Now we are even, little one.' The girl nodded solemnly.

Together the now slightly larger group continued on through the forest, Tabitha riding at the front. There was little said between them. Violet asked for food, and Laria retrieved fried bread from her pack and passed it around, the child taking the largest share.

At the top of the path off the mountain they met others waiting there. Venkel, still wielding Tabitha's bow that was larger than him, and Drugen, scratching Ollu between the ears. There were a few greetings, but if they hadn't known how dire their circumstances were, the view out of the land they would have to cross to get to the coast, that vista of death, silenced them all. There was a pause then and they all lingered there, reluctant to break away for any reason.

'You should go,' said Willow. 'We don't know if they'll come after us.'

Tabitha nodded and dismounted, leading the horse carefully down the path. Alice thanked everybody again, then hurried after her, Violet still in her arms.

Venkel spat over the cliff edge and leaned to watch it fall. 'Could've been worse, captain,' he said. 'Could've been a lot worse.' He looked after those who had already departed. 'Suppose Tabitha will want her bow back.' He trod down the path.

Drugen hefted his rifle in both hands. 'Don't know why I'm still carrying this,' he said. 'Haven't got any bullets left.'

'You'll have to learn how to use a sword,' said Dravoth. 'Think you can handle that?'

The corners of Drugen's mouth twitched. 'Seems simple enough,' he said. He shifted his rifle to a vertical position, barrel to the sky, and leaned on it. 'You going to wait, captain?'

Willow nodded. Someone had to, he thought, just to make sure they had no pursuers, and it wasn't a task he would ask of anyone else. Not after all the sacrifices they'd made already.

'Reckon I won't be much use without ammo,' said Drugen. He looked away. 'Reckon I've never known a finer bunch of fighters.' He trod down the path without another word.

Dravoth looked after him. 'Longest conversation we've ever had,' he said.

'You should join them,' said Willow to Laria. 'They could use your help.'

'We're going the same way,' she said. 'You can catch up with us.'

'And I will,' said Willow, though he didn't believe it. 'I want to see this through.'

She laid a hand on his arm. 'Soon, then,' she said. 'It's not even a goodbye.'

Willow smiled, and Laria hurried after Drugen. Soon Willow could hear their voices echoing back up to where remained just himself, Dravoth, and Ollu, who sniffed the air and paced along the edge of the cliff.

'Could I convince you to go too?' he asked Dravoth.

'You could not.'

And so they waited. The day dragged into night, and the three of them slept in shifts, always at least one pair of eyes searching through the trees for movement, ears strained for the ravenous sounds of the undead. The fires on the plain seemed to burn brighter after the sun had fallen.

They waited through until dawn, though no undead came bursting from the trees, hard on the trail of that flesh that had escaped their endless hunger. Willow took one last look through the dark trunks and said that maybe that was long enough. Dravoth agreed. Together they went slowly down the path, keeping pace with each other, Ollu ranging ahead but never out of sight for very long. As time went on, Willow found her absence caused him alarm, and only when she reappeared from around a corner could he let the tension ease from his shoulders.

They camped again at the base of the path, where the stone faded to soft earth and the view of the devastation ahead of them was blocked by a thicket of trees. The other refugees had all passed on, but there were the coals of a fire that could be rekindled, and Ollu hunted up some rabbits for them. Again they waited, again they kept watch, and again there were no undead.

As they journeyed across that broken land, the need for words became futile. Off the roads, away from the towns, they moved mostly in silence. Scrounging or hunting meagre fare, making camp in out of the way corners. However much they removed themselves from it, still they could not avoid the devastation. Fields had been burned, produce piled high and reeking with disease. Buildings little more than blackened shells or else abandoned, hollow but for the occasional body. The undead usually claimed those for their various infernal purposes.

The blight was the worst. It seemed to seep from the very passage of the undead. So close to such death, the land withered and died. The earth turned grey, plants perished, and animals fled to increasingly small pockets of green. Treading upon it drained their spirit, and set Ollu to a low continual growl, so they avoided it if they could, taking long detours, crossing segments of it only if they could see no other option.

Sometimes they did see undead, but kept their distance, ducking back into the cover of trees or long grass, if such plant life remained. Dravoth had to keep a hand on Ollu's neck to keep her from charging out, as her suppressed rage found few outlets. She tore her meals into unrecognisable ruins. Willow understood how she felt. Often he wished he could take the entire land in his hand and crush it all to nothing. When such dark thoughts arose, usually as the night stretched towards dawn, he would rise and sit awake, the dark eyes of Dravoth and Ollu upon him, seeing him and understanding him.

Sometimes they met other survivors, heading in various directions, or else refusing to leave what little they had left. Willow always tried to pass on what he knew, about Jaina Proudmoore's mission to the west, but people refused to listen, or else reacted poorly to the presence of an orc and a large black wolf. The second time weapons were turned on them, they began avoiding even other living company.

'No convenient undead for me to save them from,' said Dravoth. Willow couldn't find anything to say, but they all knew each other's feelings. They kept walking.

The world reduced to just them and the path ahead, their westward goal. Perhaps they could have counted the days, but they moved and slept at inconsistent times, dictated by avoiding anyone or anything that wasn't themselves. Time blurred and shifted. The sun still went through its cycles, but they felt as if they had stepped outside the usual rolling progression of one hour to the next.

Then they reached the coast. Tree roots stretching like spread fingers into the salt water and new birdcalls from above. There was more life there, more life still holding on or somehow escaped the spread of destruction they had seen so many times on their journey. They followed the coast north. They found a road with recent wagon ruts in its dirt and they did not hide from that open space. They saw no blight and no undead for those last two days. The sky was wide and they relished the smell of the sea.

Then came the stockade. A hastily built cordon of wood, protecting a small port with ships being laden with people and supplies. Even from far off they could discern the figures on high platforms, watching the road. They approached the gates, and it was so long since Willow had seen another human, had considered a view that wasn't his own, that it took him too long to realise why the riflemen on guard were yelling at them, why he could see the barrels of the guns levelled at them.

There was so much to explain and so little time in which to do it. If only he could tell those in front of him the whole story, as he had seen it, lived it. Willow ran forward, waving his arms, yelling at them not to shoot.

The bullets passed over his head. When he turned to look back, Dravoth was already on the ground. Ollu was running off the road, for the nearest trees, out of range and lost to sight within seconds. By the time Willow made it back to fall to his knees by his friend's body, there was no life left there to hold. The blood pooled outwards. He stayed in that position, his brain blank in a way that terrified him. He shook, his armour rattling, and felt unbearably hot.

He was still there when a small group from the stockade opened the gates and approached. They didn't understand. He didn't know how to make them understand.

'We thought he was trying to ransom you or something,' said one of the soldiers. 'Heard they do that.'

Another wore the armour of a captain, and looked out the way Ollu had gone. 'Can't have creatures like that running loose, even if we are leaving,' he said. 'I'll send some men out after it.'

'Didn't want a hostage situation,' said another soldier. 'Seen those before, never ends pretty for anyone.'

'Damn you,' said Willow, the words barely making it out between his teeth.

'What did you say?' asked the captain.

'We were walking side by side,' said Willow. His tears fell to mix with the blood. 'We were walking side by side.'