One could be forgiven for not expecting what lay at the bottom of the hill that autumn afternoon. Though a chill had started to lace the air, the grassy slopes were still blanketed in wildflowers, and the sounds of birdsong drifted cheerily through the air.

A raspy bark caught Gawain’s attention as they neared the crest of the hill. The grass cushioned much of the sound of theirs and Roderick’s footsteps, and if not for the soft clanking of their armor, they might have been undetectable.

“Pretyman, what do you see?” Roderick called, standing in place and turning to try to place the direction of the barking. The dog, Pretyman, had already found what lay on the other side of the hill, and had caught sight of a crow. Hence, the barking.

“Over here, Roderick,” Gawain called, stopping at the hill’s crest and looking down over what lay before them.

The delicate wildflowers and soft grass of the valley gave way to a pit of mud and corpses below. It was the aftermath of a battle that had come to a close the day prior - and both sides had sustained heavy losses, as was clear by how many now lay dead. Rather than wildflowers, the glint of scattered and smashed armor, flecked with rust-toned splatters of blood, now colored the hillside. The birdsong had sharpened into the calls of crows that picked at the exposed flesh of those who had met their end here.

Gawain scanned the battlefield as Roderick ran over to join them. He would not be able to make out the field below, and perhaps that was for the best - ever since their resurrection, he seemed to have developed a strong distaste for battles and their aftermaths.

“Follow behind me,” Gawain said. “The field is muddy, so you’ll need to mind your steps.”

“I shall be right behind you, my friend!” Roderick agreed cheerily, falling in step behind Gawain as though they were marching in a line.

Gawain placed their steps carefully as Roderick followed behind them, humming what Gawain first recognized as an old marching tune that veered off into an eclectic sequence of notes Roderick seemed to be making up as he went.

Gawain searched for any sign of a necromancer amidst the dead - their kind could usually be found scouring the aftermath of a battle, searching for any dead who were in decent enough condition to resurrect and continue their work. It was a miserable existence, Gawain thought, to be thrown into the maws of battle and not even allowed to rest once their lives had ended. They wondered if others were like them, if perhaps some distant awareness flickered somewhere within them… or if others’ souls were lucky enough to have moved on, and only their bodies continued this hollow existence.

“Is this some manner of a bog, or a swamp perhaps?” Roderick asked as he remained carefully behind Gawain. Luckily, he had not tripped on any of the various body parts that encroached upon the path. “Is that why the ground is so muddy?”

“It is a bog,” Gawain lied in confirmation of his theory. “It is some distance to the other side, so mind you don’t get stuck.”

“Oh, I see,” Roderick muttered. “I hope Pretyman hasn’t gotten himself stuck either.”

Gawain looked across the field at where Pretyman was sniffing at a severed arm. “He’s alright; he knows where to walk.”

“It seems a bit darker here,” Roderick commented absently. “I’ll be glad when the sun is out again. It doesn’t feel quite the same anymore, but the warmth is still nice on my bones.”

They fell into silence again as they walked, and no signs of necromancers presented themselves to Gawain as they continued to search. Perhaps they had come and gone already, or perhaps none had been prepared for an outcome this staggeringly destructive.

Gawain allowed their thoughts to drift to what might happen once their goal was accomplished, once all the death-mages were gone and they were finally able to pass to the afterlife. They thought they had seen glimpses of what lay beyond before they had been pulled back… but those memories were hazy now, along with everything that had come before. It was unsettling not knowing, of course… yet something still pulled them that direction, compelling them to cross to the other side, though a fearful prospect it did seem at times.

“What’s this, Pretyman?” Roderick asked, stopping as the dog ran alongside him with something in its mouth - Gawain turned and froze in place as they realized it was the arm he had been sniffing at. Roderick took it and held it close to his face to examine it before flinching away and dropping it to the ground.

“An arm!” he shouted. “Where did you find this?”

Pretyman provided no answer, of course, only a bark as he picked up the arm and trotted along the path. Roderick turned to look out at his surroundings again as best he could - though Gawain knew this was more a matter of inference than what his friend could actually see.

“Ah… we are crossing a battlefield, aren’t we, Gawain?” he asked, the cheer in his voice evaporating.

“Yes,” Gawain admitted, not wishing to further a lie. “I am sorry… I did not want to ruin your mood.”

“It is alright,” Roderick sighed. “You’re looking for more necromancers, aren’t you?”

“Only for as long as it takes us to pass through,” Gawain said quickly. “I do want to get to a place we can make camp soon.”

Roderick hummed a sound of agreement before gasping as he examined his own hand. “Oh…”

Gawain turned back to face him again. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh… my little finger on this hand seems to be gone…” Roderick carefully held his hand in the air as he crouched to search the ground. “It must have fallen when I dropped the arm.”

As Roderick searched in a panic, Gawain knelt to help him. They knew well why he was so overcome with anxiety - once their bodies disintegrated, they would be no more. The changes had been gradual since their resurrection, but every time there was noticeable degradation, Roderick became terrified.

“I can’t find it,” he said, his voice despairing. “Oh… not that it matters, I suppose… I wouldn’t be able to attach it again, but… still…” He sat back on his heels, falling quiet.

“Are you alright, Roderick?” Gawain asked carefully.

Roderick nodded after a moment. “I know you want to find more necromancers so we can finally move on… But I must admit, the thought frightens me quite a bit. I… I’m not ready to go yet. There are still things I’d like to do, and see, people I’d like to meet… And perhaps it’s selfish of me, but at this moment there’s nothing I’d like more than to travel the roads with a friend.” He sighed, holding up his hand with one missing finger. “But I’m falling apart… I know sooner or later, this will have to end.”

Gawain looked at him, feeling a heaviness in their chest - though no heart beat there any longer. “Wait here a moment,” they said, standing.

It took only a few minutes of scouring the field before Gawain found what they had been searching for. A dead soldier with a sword still gripped in his hands, covered by a fine pair of leather gloves. Gawain carefully tossed the sword aside before straightening each of the dead man’s stiff fingers and deftly pulling the gloves off of them. Perhaps it was improper to deprive the dead of their possessions… But they would be of far more use serving another.

“Here, Roderick,” Gawain called out as they neared where their friend still sat knelt on the ground. “Hold out your hands.”

Seeming confused, Roderick did so - and Gawain carefully slipped the leather gloves onto his skeletal fingers.

“There,” Gawain said, patting his hands, “that should help keep your fingers protected.”

“Oh - Thank you, my friend!” Roderick exclaimed, flexing his fingers in their new protective covering. “This will make much easier work for my hands.”

Gawain nodded, helping Roderick back to his feet. “Let us finish crossing the field. There is nothing more here for us - and I see a nice clearing ahead. We can build a fire, and perhaps tell a few more tales.”

Roderick happily agreed - and the two of them once more set off together.

One day, this path would have to end, and their souls would cross over - where they would go, Gawain could not know.

But they had company for the road, however long it would be. That was enough.