It was perhaps only a matter of time

The undead grew restless to eat the two bodies on the ground. I didn't have time to worry about the hooded man's words or anything else for that matter.

As weakened as I was, passing out was not an option. Do I drink the elixir and prepare to fight these things? Before I could make a decision one of the undead- the one of the goblin- came rushing at me. I stopped in my tracks. My trauma came back. I froze. Shit! Move! I screamed at myself but my body wouldn't listen.

Two screeches came from behind me. One horse jumped above me and kicked the goblin to pieces. Another horse walked right behind and probed me with its head. They were mine and Dune's. I was breathless. I forgot to breathe. I touched the neck of the horse and smiled. I guess these guys had more courage than me.

Who was he? I don't know who he was but next time I'd have to thank him. I could understand that this was the hooded man's doing. But whoever he was, I had to thank him the next time. Though he claimed to not be my enemy, for now, he did help me. Even if he turned enemy in the future, I'd have to remember this debt.

With my willpower alone I picked up both of their severed heads and bodies. I took the severed heads in a spare bag and placed the bodies on the second horse. I touched the head of the horse and it nodded. These guys were intelligent or perhaps just loyal.

It wasn't a pretty situation but my life depended on it. In reality, Dune and Sheila were too much of a burden for me alone to carry. In a matter of minutes, my stamina was fully drained and my body gave up. I remembered what the hooded man said before leaving. Something about my pocket. I checked and there was a small vase with blue liquid. The script read 'drinking potion'.

Potions in this world were quite rare or so I'd been told. My reason for not drinking one during the fight was simple. I had forgotten about it altogether. I didn't even know I had one, to be honest. And yet that man knew it.

I drank the potion, I felt recovered. But a single sip was not enough to completely heal my half-dead self, but it was enough to enable me to function. I could finally see a glimpse of hope.

I mounted on my steed and the other one followed me through the forest. It was a miracle that they didn't run away: I knew they would have if not for that guy. So it was more of a staged miracle, but a miracle nonetheless.

Within minutes I passed the statue of Misrael. She didn't say anything. She probably knew that I wouldn't have replied anyway. The silence only made me feel worse. The undead were still after me, but they weren't much of a treat anymore. Somehow I felt reassured of that. Or maybe I was just too sad?

I came outside. With both of the horses I headed for the village, I could breathe easier. The undead were behind me but they were too slow. The horses were a lifesaver. I applied some herbs to my chest. It stung and I barely stood conscious. Herbs in this world worked better than anything else found on earth. And here I thought, medical facilities would be weaker in this world.

It was evening. The undead would come after me even outside the forest in mere minutes. And then there was the problem of goblins. But I wasn't concerned about the monsters. It was as though, I'd given up. It was as though, I was reliving the past. The past I wanted to bury deep within.

The two lonely heads in the bag were definitely mortified to find out that I was the reason behind all this. All the way, only two thoughts crossed my mind. How did I survive? Why did I survive?

I reached the village by nightfall, with a raging torch in one hand. This time I got in and received a welcome. The gate wasn't closed. A single pyre burned on top of the wall but no undead were in the vicinity. I could understand why. My being here was the worst thing that could happen to the village and it did.

There were lots of people here to witness my presumed triumphant return. But alas! I was naught but successful. Everybody knew what had happened just by seeing my face and the headless bodies on the second horse. I could tell it just by looking at them. They already knew before even sending me out. Probably they were relieved to see that finally at least someone came back alive and that their fellow villagers didn't end up being one of the undead.

But what kind of relief was that? How could they be satisfied of just that? I couldn't believe it. Two of them just died and they were glad to see me? Like seriously? What was wrong with this world? "Guy I-"

Milai came through the crowd, with overflowing tears. "Where are they?" she asked as tears slowly dripped from her ever so red face. Her voice trembled and my chest hurt. My wound was probably a little too much for me to bear.

She grabbed my hands. Her hands were warm and the drops of liquid from her eyes fell on my hands. I couldn't bear it anymore. "Where are they!"

I handed over the bag I was keeping both of the heads in. She was surprised for a moment to see me hand over a bag. But as she opened the bag, her cries turned into the cruelest, saddest mourn ever. She screamed as she clenched on the severed heads with all her might, mortified. To be honest, I too cried before fainting for good.