Just to be safe, Althea had returned to her duties and was distracted from Jonathan’s latest transgression. An extra patrol would be sent out this morning. She would personally check the perimeter of the town with an escort.

Jonathan had secretly been grateful for the false alarm in the tavern. He had abandoned his coffee as soon as Gracie had started barking, and after seeing to his pistol ushered her outside. A few town guards ran past them, as Althea had ordered them to re-enforce the patrols and bring lit torches and lamp oil with them. By now the light was strong in the sky, and they were meant to be weapons.

Jonathan insisted on going on his own as usual, but took some extra oil and tinder for his lantern, as well as an extra torch. Althea was busy and took little notice of him as he quietly slipped away.

Gracie didn’t make a peep as they started their usual rounds. Usually they didn’t take this route until the mid-afternoon. Their first patrol would circle Darkshire, starting with Manor Mistmantle, then turn abruptly south to the Tranquil Gardens Cemetery.

Gracie sniffed about half-heartedly. They had already been here not too long ago. Was her Master returning to his place of repose so quickly? Her heart sank a little when she saw him closely examining the purple handkerchief. Perhaps she had upset him.

Jonathan made sure that nobody was watching them or within earshot. He thrust the bit of cloth into Gracie’s face again, his face twisted with emotion.

“Well?” He whispered. “Is it…this?”

Sometimes he would raise it to his own face, as if his human nose could also recognize the smell. She wasn’t sure he understood it the same way that she did. The smell by the tower and the scent of the cloth were not exactly the same.

But they were the same.

She didn’t like the way he shoved it at her face, and turned away silently.

Jonathan angrily stuffed it back in his pocket, muttering to himself. The dog seemed confused and out of sorts. He did not like the thoughts that were running through his head. He had kept that bit of rag for ages. It was his only keepsake of her.

But Gracie had never done that before, and the little dog had loved her just as much.
The most obvious explanation was the one he kept trying to push away as he turned them south. Gracie had detected that smell elsewhere, perhaps by the tower. No, perhaps not. They were down by the pond. It was upwind. She could not have caught that scent from there.

But if she had…

It was inevitable that people would seek him out to ask about Andorhol. They had a relative, a friend, and perhaps he had seen them? Was this shop or home or landmark still standing when you last saw it?

And the most chilling of all, and spoken with the most terror if they dared to ask at all.

Did they fall…only to rise again?

The might of the Scourge lay in its power to corrupt the land and raise the dead, both of which they would bend to their will. Was there a chance that their loved one had risen, and walked in undeath?

He would usually lie, and answer no. It was what they wanted to hear. What result would a “yes” elicit? Perhaps a holiday to Undercity was in order? A nice family reunion over the tomb of the betrayed king?

She had always been a smart girl. Too smart, and too eerie to escape the notice of the Scarlet Crusade. For a woman of that age to live and travel alone, without a family…

It had been stupid. She should have known better. It was her own fault.

And if she was roaming these woods as a Forsaken, all that would drive her now was hatred. Perhaps she was seeking him out to exact her revenge. He could not deny he had played a part in it.

His hands trembled as he checked his gun again, and his heart thudded in his chest. Even in the bright morning sunlight, where even the most hardy undead were unlikely to roam, he found himself jumping at every bird chirp and twig snap.

From Tranquil Gardens they had moved west, through the Rotting Orchard and the old farmstead. Usually he felt a sense of harmony as he passed by the Twilight Grove but it did not come today. Occasionally they would run into other members of the Night Watch, but there had been no sign of any undead lurking near the town. Only the usual mindless zombies that roamed the abandoned homes and lurked in the graveyards.

Ah well, they said, patting the unhappy Gracie gently, can’t be right all of the time then, eh?

Jonathan laughed nervously, well get to it fellas, better safe than sorry!

By the time they had been through Raven Hill and had patrolled the Darkened Bank, it was dusk. A few bright stars were peeping out, and after a day of searching and sweating, especially following a night of fitful sleep outside, Jonathan’s fatigue was getting the better of his fear. It had just been a false alarm. Even the best dog couldn’t be perfect. He turned and looked at her tenderly. She was following obediently, nose to the ground.

They were within sight of the town’s lights, but in a dark part of the road. Jonathan turned away from the city for a moment and called to the dog.

She crouched in the shadows, and did not come. In fact, she lowered her head and whined a little.

That’s rather strange, Jonathan thought to himself. Was she hurt? He took a step towards her.

And then he heard a footstep behind him. The wind turned, and the limbs of the overhanging trees shuddered.

The foul stench of rotting flesh filled his nostrils. He shivered, and turned, slowly, moving his hand carefully towards his pistol as he did so.

It was standing in the road, slightly concealed by the moving shadows. Its bright eyes were glimmering. He saw no demon, and it wore cloth. Definitely no mindless husk or wandering ghoul, or even an apothecary that had wandered further away from his lab than usual.

A mage or a priest, still reeking of blood from its last kill. It still had blood on its lips.

No, not a priest. It drew its weapon, a one-handed sword, and planted it decisively in the ground. Then it stepped forward slowly, keeping its hands raised. It was not threatening him.

He did not want to see its face, but at the same time he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Without taking his eyes from the undead creature, he opened the lantern and used it to light one of the torches. It blazed black smoke with the oil and wool cloth.

Gracie started to whine quietly. Why was she not barking? Jonathan thought angrily. They were so close to Darkshire. Members of the night watch could not be far away.

What was wrong with her?

The creature stopped, and then slowly reached towards its belt. He bit his lip and waved the torch threateningly. His fingers clutched the barrel of his gun. It did not seem threatened by any of this. In fact, it’s sickening grin seemed to widen as if it found the whole thing rather funny.

Jonathan then realized it was carrying a herb pouch, and from this it drew a few small, pungent branches, which it tossed on the ground in front of his feet.

Kingsblood, he thought incredulously. A herb of some repute and value. Could it be trying to trade?

Without moving any closer, it crouched on the ground, and wrote a word in the dirt in front of him with a gloved hand. It was a bit messy, as it was writing upside-down so he could read it. But it clearly said, “Andorhol.”

Joanthan’s hands started to shake. He had tried to avoid the obvious conclusion. But now that he could get a better look, he could determine that the creature was most definitely female. There was something familiar about its face. The high cheekbones and wide jaw. And still, Gracie did not bark, but continued to crouch close to the ground and whine softly as if wounded.

As of to answer the unspoken question, the creature raised herself to her full height and opened the front of her robe, exposing her rent and mutilated chest to him.

Jonathan cried out in convulsive terror. He threw the torch towards her in panic and stumbled backward, trying to twist his face away from that terrible vision, cramming the sides of his forearms against his eyes. Gracie started barking, raising a noise that all in the town would hear.

It only took seconds for the Night Watch to appear. Some followed the creature east in a futile but heated pursuit. The others found Jonathan crouched by the side of the road, the palms of his hands still pressed against his eyes, weeping and shaking his head in fierce disbelief.