What a beautiful sky.

  Lovely, fluffy clouds drift from south to north—or maybe west to east. Honestly, I’ve never been good at geography. Let’s just say they’re moving right to left.

  So here I am, gazing up at the vast, high sky and those slow-moving clouds drifting right to left.

  This wonderful view unfolds from the ditch I’m lying in right now.

  How did I get here?

  It happened shortly after the Count’s cavalry ambushed us. Yes—real knights. With swords and all sorts of sharp, gleaming weapons in their hands.

  Our Great Bald Necromancer Leader clearly didn’t expect this kind of reception. But to his credit, he managed to react quickly. He sent twenty-five skeletons charging toward the noise, while ordering the rest of us to fall back behind him and cover his bald rear. As you’ve probably guessed, I ended up in the covering group.

  As for those guys who charged ahead… let’s just say their luck ran out far faster.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  After five minutes of stumbling through the darkness—during which my fellow skeletons, miraculously, still didn’t crash into a single tree—two riders caught up to us. They attacked without hesitation or second thoughts.

  The rider on the left swung his lance and instantly pierced the skull of one of my undead comrades. The blow was so powerful the skull shattered into fragments, and the skeleton collapsed on the spot.

  “No! Save me!” our bald leader screamed, waving his sleeves toward the riders—an action that instantly triggered something inside us.

  Standing behind the others, I lunged at the lance-wielding rider. We’d just raised our old, rusted axes—scavenged from the village—and were about to swing when the lance came crashing down on us. The rider struck sideways, as if his lance were a very long sword.

  At that exact moment, other skeletons ended up between me and the weapon’s shaft. No, they weren’t trying to shield me—the lance simply crushed them effortlessly and swept them all into a tangled heap.

  Thanks to that accidental barrier, I took almost no direct damage—but the impact still sent me flying, tumbling through the air with the broken remains of my already thoroughly dead comrades.

  I flew at least three meters before landing in a streamside ditch.

  The last thing I saw before hitting the ground was our leader—the necromancer—impaled cleanly through his magnificent, moonlit, gleaming bald head