Fiore dunked her hands into the stream and tried to rub the blood off. It stuck to her fingers and was dried under her nails. With enough effort her hands became passably clean. She sniffed them for a second and cringed at the foul dead smell. She tried to wipe it off on the skirt of her torn dress but knew it would continue to cling to her like mold to old bread. 

    A twig snapped in the distance. It sounded like a large creature moved through the forest. Fiore straightened herself up and smoothed down her frizzy hair. As she wiped the dirt from her brow, a horse and rider emerged through the brush on the opposite side of the stream. The horse was a magnificent golden beast. He towered above Fiore and would have been intimidating if not for the white star over his eye that made him resemble a painted fool. A woman in expensive leather armor sat on his embellished saddle. She wore a sword at her side, a bow on her back, and a rather dangerous looking hat with a spiked metal ball on her head. The two stopped. They considered Fiore. Then the woman spoke. 

    “Please tell me that Roughtnigh is a mere five minute ride from here.” Her voice was surprisingly gruff and low. Her horse pawed the ground as if to punctuate his mistress’s request. 

   “Roughtnigh is a mere five minute ride from here.” Fiore repeated tonelessly. Then she shook her head and shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid, however, that would be a falsehood. I believe it’s to the east of here, perhaps a couple days out?”

    “What?” The woman growled and looked to the heavens. The view of tree branches didn’t entertain her long and she looked back at Fiore. “Apparently I’m more off track than I thought. Where are we? Where’s the closest village?”

    “This is The Forest.” At the woman’s dry look Fiore huffed. “That is what we call it. Folk around here are somewhat simple. We’re not like you city folk who have to stick names on their chamberpots.”

    The woman’s mouth pursed and the opened and closed like a cow chewing cud. With a sideways look at Fiore she shook her head and sighed. Her fingers drummed on her horses neck. He looked back around at her and she pet his soft nose. Then she dismounted and grabbed his reins. 

    “You don’t want him drinking that.” Fiore warned. The woman paused and raised her eyebrow. “It’s tainted.”

    “Tainted?” The woman clicked at her horse and he backed up. He stayed put as she approached the water, but stomped his foot. She carefully found a large rock to perch on so she could inspect the stream. “It looks clean.”

    Fiore held up a finger. She then retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and dipped it so half of it was soaking wet. It took some clambering around but she managed to reach across the stream so the woman could take the dry end of the handkerchief. 

    The woman held it up in confusion only to choke on the smell and throw it far away. It landed in the stream. The handkerchief sunk before the lazy current could take it out of sight. Fiore sighed and said a few words of remembrance over her fallen handkerchief. The woman rolled her eyes and took a handkerchief from the purse at her side, balled it up, and managed to hit Fiore in the face with it before she finished with her old handkerchief’s funeral. 

    Fiore caught the replacement handkerchief before it dropped to the muddy ground. She readjusted how rich she thought the stranger was and tucked it into her pocket. 

    “I’ve smelled many a battlefield but they’ve never been that bad.” The woman took a step back and gestured wildly. “Is it cursed?”

    “Perhaps.” Fiore wrung her hands. “If you know battlefields, I know magic- but I’ve never been able to find the spell. I believe it comes from upstream, from the creatures who live there.” Fiore grinned when the woman looked interested. Perhaps she’d finally found some help.

    “My name is Sir Sunniva of Glaunde and I’ve taken on several creatures in my time. I might be of some aide.”

    “I thought you wanted to get to Roughtnigh as soon as possible, Lady Knight?” 

    “Don’t be smart with me!” But the woman laughed, knowing Fiore was only jesting. “And you don’t have to use any titles. You can just call me Sun.”

    Sir Sun the Lady Knight. Fiore giggled slightly and offered a curtsy. “My name is Fiore. I would be happy to accept your aide, but I fear I may scare you away. Now I’m sure that you are as courageous as any brave-hearted knight, but the undead are monsters to make any warrior nervous. I can help you with some magic, but unfortunately I’m not much of a fighter myself.”

    “Undead?” Sun’s mouth twisted. “I’ve fought them before. I can at least say I’m prepared for the creatures.” She tapped her sword. “This is an enchanted blade. There’s very few things in this land that it can’t set to rest.” 

    “That’s fortunate. Perhaps we can actually do this!” Fiore rubbed her hands together in glee.

    “First, I need to know the undead’s numbers. Also, what can you do, Fiore?”

    “I’ll tell you everything… as long as you tell me your horses name.”

    His name was Soldier Baldr and Fiore professed her love right then and there. It was fortunate for Sun that the stream was too wide to Fiore to cross, else-wise their planning would have been interrupted by Fiore constantly telling Baldr he was a good boy.  As it was, she directed every other comment his way. 

    The two made camp on their respective side of the stream and settled down for the night.

    

                                                                    …

 

    As the dawn sun rose, the two women crept up on the encampment. The camp, like them, straddled each side of the stream. Mud walls formed resembled an attempt at structures and skeletons milled around like cattle. Some of the creatures looked closer to live than others. One man had most of his skin. A woman had a surprisingly well kept coif even though her arm was rotting off. It hit the ground with a loud squelchy thump. On top of a rock pile on Sun’s side of the stream there was a rough lean-to. Branches were arranged to make a sort of tent shape. A small figure’s head could be seen peeking out of it, their small hands holding a leather-bound book. The necromancer.

    Sun ducked behind the nearest wall and waggled her fingers at Fiore. Fiore hid herself behind a thick tree and made an elaborate hand gesture. Crimson light gathered in her palms. She raised it to her lips and blew it towards the undead. The skeleton closest to her cracked and its bones fell down in sharp splinters. The others around it lost limbs or ribs, depending on where they were hit. The noise drew the entire camps’ attention. The undead moaned if they had vocal cords and approached their splintered comrades cautiously. The figure in the lean-to snapped to attention so quickly the shelter fell on top of them.

    Sun jumped up and sliced a zombie’s head off. By the time the confused undead hoard managed to notice her, she’d taken out five of them with swift brutal strikes. Fiore used her distraction to start climbing up the tree. 

    A skeleton charged at Sun. It waved an old leg bone as a club. The bone came down weightily on Sun’s sword. She tried to pull to away, but the blade was stuck halfway. A zombie came in on her left. She grimaced. She planted her feet firmly and yanked on her sword. 

    Rip. 

    She tore the skeletons arm off. 

    The skeleton’s jaw dropped, literally, clattering to the ground with an odd clack. 

    Sun spun and used the momentum to bash the skeleton under the zombie’s feet. The zombie’s ankle got stuck in the ribcage and Sun used her momentary reprieve to step on the leg club and pull her sword free. The zombie tried to grab her and she retaliated. She kicked it down and stabbed quickly. 

    A squishy something grabbed her shoulder. 

    With a shriek, she attempted to stab it with her spiky helmet. She missed and a rotting arm snaked around her waste. It held tightly. Her guts were not appreciating it. 

    As she struggled, she saw a creature approaching Fiore’s tree. No! If it reached her then she’d be defenseless. Sun thought back to their plan and knew she should focus on her own battle. 

    Something was close to her ear. It was distinctly not breathing on her. She had to deal with it now.

    The creature had noticed Fiore. She was frantically trying to build up her magic. The creature opened its mouth to gather reinforcements. With a scream, Sun switched her sword to one hand and grabbed a knife from her side. She threw it and it speared the creature in the chest. It fell. Fiore was safe.

    There was no reprieve for Sun however.

    Something dribbled down her neck. The arm around her squeezed even more and she almost threw up. She could barely breathe now but she readjusted her sword’s grip. She just needed to stab it. That was it. No regrets now.

    Cold flesh nuzzled cheek and she plunged her sword behind her. It wasn’t a good hit. She ignored the burning in her lungs and tried again. 

    The monster holding her twitched and fell to pieces. As she took a deep breath she noticed the red aura around the fleshy chunks before it dimmed and disappeared. She shot a weak smile at Fiore. She would have said something but she didn’t have the breath. As is was, she had more undead to make really dead. 

    It was tricky to fight on bone splinters. She nearly tripped when de-spine-ing a skeleton.

    Fiore hissed as a another zombie almost bit Sun. Luckily, the warrior dodged and sent it stumbling into another zombie’s pitchfork. She prepared another spell but hesitated. Was this time for area control or removing the skeleton creeping up on Sun’s back? 

    Sun jumped on the short wall halfway to the center of the camp and kicked the kebob’d zombie backwards. This sent the one holding the pitchfork stumbling backward. Fiore shook her head and blew her magic at the hoard trying to cross the stream. 

    She needed to focus. She wouldn’t be able to keep this magic up for long.

    Fiore tried to clear Sun’s path. Luckily, Sun didn’t need too much help. Fiore sent a large spell around her and Sun took this opportunity to rush to the fallen lean-to. The necromancer managed to squirm out from the wreckage only to have Sun’s sword pressed to their back.

    “Stop them.” Sun ordered. The person under her sword shivered.

    “Please don’t hurt me.” They said in a child’s voice. Sun did not relent and repeated her demand, this time adding even more steel to her voice. “Stop!” The creature screamed. All of the undead collapsed. 

    “What are you?” Sun repositioned her stance so she stood firmly on the rock pile. The small creature looked up at her with wet eyes.

    It was small enough to be a child. In fact, if Sun had only seen half of its face she would have said it looked around six summers old. But she saw all of it. The other half was dark blue and dead. There was nothing human to be found in that eye. It sneered at her with a demon’s grace. 

    “You attacked me without knowing that? And here I thought human rashness was exaggerated.” It chuckled like a cave echo. Its sickly sweet child’s voice rose an octave. “I don’t think you actually want to know.” Its fist enclosed on a lock of its long frizzy hair. 

    “Maybe not.” Sun shrugged. She looked towards Fiore’s tree. “Are you gonna get down here?” 

    Fiore reluctantly climbed down and slowly walked through the bone shards. Her boot heels ground them to dust. She stopped.

    “Don’t be scared, Fiore. We’ve won.” Sun beamed at her. Fiore smiled back. The not-child laughed once me. Its eyes never left Fiore.

    “What shall you do with me? Punish me? Banish me? Take my territory?” It squinted at Fiore with a rotten smile. "After all this time and it's a random adventurer."The creature ripped out the chunk of its hair. The action startled Sun and the sword cut into its back. The creature didn’t react and rubbed its tiny hands together.

    Fiore pointed at its hands and shrieked, “It’s doing magic!” Sun reacted accordingly and dispatched the creature. Fiore put her hands on her chest. “Thank you, Sun. I have no idea what it would have done.”

    Sun pulled up her sword and regarded the scene with a critical eye. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped some of the gore off of her sword. Fiore continued to heap praises on her and she nodded a few times. She sheathed her sword and looked at the stream that still separated the two. Some of the bone shards had formed a little bridge of sorts. She could step across. 

    Fiore shut her mouth as Sun drew closer. The first step on bone seems solid enough. Sun took another. Then it all collapsed beneath her and she had one final thought of how this was how she goes. Not from fighting the undead or mysterious monsters. Just crossing the very stream she’d been trying to save. There was no way that the taint cleared this quickly. 

    She splashed down and bone shards dug into her armor. To her utter bewilderment, the stream felt completely clean. It didn’t smell like death anymore. It was cold, and crisp like it came from the mountains. She looked at Fiore who seemed much closer than she was a second ago. 

    Sun expected a hand up. Instead, Fiore stood over her impassively. She pressed a thick boot to Sun’s chest. How was the girl so heavy? With horror, Sun smelled death. 

    “I really do have to thank you, Sir Sun. I’m truly grateful beyond all measure. You are just the sunshine to my day.” The corner of her eyes crinkled. “I apologize, I’m sure you’ve heard every sun pun known to man.” Her fingers began an elaborate dance of a spell. 

    “Fiore… What are you-“ Now that she was so close to Fiore’s skirt, she noticed that its brown color wasn’t even. Her dress was dyed with stains of faded blood. She felt wrong, suddenly more inhuman than the creature they'd just defeated. Sun tried to think of someway to fight but she her brain kept getting stuck. This was the girl who loved Baldr. This was the girl who’s irreverent humor made her laugh. They’d fought on this battlefield, together. 

     Sun was suddenly all to aware that said battle was at Fiore's request. What exactly had she done?

    “You should have stayed on your side.” Fiore gestured across the stream. “It’s where you belong. Don’t you see what happens when things try to meet in the middle?” She gave significant looks to the remains around them. 

    The magic she had gathered was a great crimson cloud by now. It hovered above Sun and she knew it was evil. Fiore put her lips together. Sun flinched. Then Fiore clenched her fists and waved the magic away like a violent slap. 

    She stepped off of Sun and returned to her side of the stream-bed. She knelt near a skull and dipped her skirt into the water as if trying to wash it. “You never told me what’s at Roughtnigh. I would venture a guess that it’s a heroic quest of some sort. They know all about The Forest. I’m sorry you didn’t.” 

    The chill of the water was seeping into Sun. She wasn’t sure what weapon to reach for, if any. She started to slowly scoot backwards. When Fiore didn’t react she stood, back on her side of the stream. Sun was shocked when Fiore didn’t follow.

    Fiore remained still for a moment. She dabbed her check with a handkerchief, but then stared at it. She carefully put it away and stayed on her side of the stream laughing.