We’re creeping through the forest toward the Count’s manor.

  Well… “creeping” isn’t quite right. Skeletons aren’t exactly graceful. In truth, we’re just a clattering mob stomping through the underbrush like a bone wind chime caught in a hurricane.

  Towering, dark firs loom all around. Surprisingly, not a single one of us has smashed face-first into a trunk. How? Do we sense obstacles through magic? If so, does that mean we automatically recognize living things too—and attack them on sight, just because we’re undead? That would explain a lot… and yet it’s still deeply weird.

  Ahead of us, the bald one—yes, him—leads a throng of thirty-one skeletons (including me, apparently) through the gloom. We’re almost there. I can already feel it: a dense cluster of life pulsing ahead. Our targets—the Count and his precious son—must be just beyond the treeline.

  Above, the sky holds only one enormous moon…

  Wait.

  Two moons?!

  I freeze inwardly. So this world is even stranger than I imagined. How do they orbit? What happens when their paths cross? And if there are werewolves here—do they transform twice as often? What if both moons are full at once? Ha-ha! Damn… it’s almost fascinating.

  It’s a shame I’m stuck under the command of this bald avenger. Though… maybe once he’s done with the Count, he’ll go after a king? Or an emperor? We might finally learn whether this world even has kings.

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  Suddenly—noise ahead.

  And not just me: the other skeletons are chattering their jaws in unison. Someone’s coming.

  But… what about our surprise attack? Weren’t we supposed to catch them off guard? Or do I just not understand war tactics at all?

  I strain my non-existent ears—and realize: hoofbeats.

  Cavalry.

  They sent horsemen against us—just regular skeletons. Are the undead really considered that threatening? I always assumed we were among the least scary monsters imaginable.

  Sure, we don’t die from poison. Or from anything, really. We’re immune to slashing weapons (mostly), and we do look fairly terrifying.

  But everything else is a massive disadvantage! A single villager with a heavy log could scatter us like kindling. And cavalry? Don’t get me started. They’ll trample us into dust!

  You might wonder: Then how did we take that village?

  Simple.

  One: we struck at night, completely unseen.

  Two: there were barely any people there.

  Three: we had rusty old swords, and they didn’t even have sticks.

  That’s it. Remove any one of those factors, and our chances of winning would’ve halved—at least.

  …Ugh.

  This battle? It’s not looking good for us. Not good at all.