I left in the night. It may have been cowardice. Would a braver man have announced his intention? Maybe, but I doubt he would have left. I left, and I wasn’t afraid to be a coward. I didn’t take anything either. I didn’t steal any food, not even a blanket. I took myself and my sword, things they had no claim over, though, in the daytime, they had power over it and me, power in numbers. In the night, as they all slept, I could be free, and free forever. The sentries were my only worry, but they were looking outward, watching for the shambling corpses which infected our land.

Reports had come in, scouts were warning us that a massive horde of them were headed our way, and the sentries were looking North. I went South, or at least I started South. I would steal nothing from them, but had I not promised to defend them? Could I steal that service after giving my word? So I went South a little ways, and then a little East, and finally, well out of their sight, headed North.

I left in the night, but I make my stand in the day. Alone against thousands, I charge. I gaze into their horrid, melted faces of bone and decaying flesh. The horror and stench is ever-present, but I hear the sound of singing, a sweet song, a rumbling choral. Their chants strengthen me; this invisible company is with me.

All around me, their hands are stretching, reaching out with their grey flesh to embrace me, consume me. I swing and swing, and steel defeats flesh again and again. Yet their circle is ever tightening. Still, the voices are singing to me, and I hear them. The filthy stench of the dead invades my nostrils, and with the pounding madness of my heart, my vision pulses red. The choral goes on.

I stand against death, a man, an individual, and my death will be my own. So will my voice join the choir.

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