I still didn’t know where the horde was going. I knew that Master had told us so, so many times, but like most information nowadays, it seemed to just circle the drain and flush out of my head the second I heard it. Which was silly, because I was killed by smoke inhalation, not a head injury! You’d think any information coming from Master would stick, but in practical terms, “that way” is enough of a direction that we don’t really need the rest.

I noticed that the zombie next to me had lost a leg and was hopping to keep up with the rest of the horde. Wordlessly, two acolytes swept him up and deposited him on the repurposing cart. Zombies aren’t supposed to feel sad, but I’m pretty sure I remember him giving me first pick of a merchant caravan we encountered last week, which was considerate of him. I hoped he got his parts grafted to someone nice, and didn’t just get ground up into raw material.

Oh! The horde was stopping! As we reached the top of the hill, a village was clearly visible in the nearby valley. I love villages. They’re so full of food and shiny objects and new friends. Master loves villages too, judging by how much laughing he does whenever we sack one, and that just makes me love them even more.

We picked up our plodding pace and descended toward the village. Zombies aren’t supposed to feel excited, so I guess I wasn’t excited, but then I don’t know what I was, because I definitely wasn’t feeling nothing. The call of alarm bells and shouts from guard towers confirmed that they were excited to see us, so why shouldn’t we feel excited too? I don’t really understand, but Master says I’m not really supposed to understand things anyway, and that part makes sense, so it’s fine I guess

The Patagia Troopers swooped down on their leathery wings and turned the tower guards into our first prizes of the night. I shuddered with something that wasn’t envy, because envy is another one of those emotions Master says zombies don’t have, and it’s not like Master can be wrong. Still, it’s definitely the feeling of wishing Master would transform me into an unliving testament to his genius with his brilliant touch. I hadn’t been dead for more than a month, but I was just positive I could prove I was a good enough zombie to deserve a special place in Master’s horde, and all the special grafts that came with it.

The front line of the horde came crashing against the village gate moments after. There was screaming and the splintering splintering of wood and the tearing of flesh audible from all directions. Some of my fellow zombies busily stripped the carcass of a local blacksmith to a polished skeleton, before starting in after the marrow. I still couldn’t be sad, but I definitely felt something every time I watched the others reduce another perfectly good corpse to a rapidly-forgotten snack, leaving nothing behind to turn into a new friend. It seemed terribly wasteful. 

Not to mention inefficient! We had an entire village to overtake. I clubbed a fleeing baker over the head with my leaden corpse fists, and took a quick chomp out of her neck; just enough to make sure she was ready for Master, before carrying on. That was what a good zombie does, I’m just sure of it.

As I looked up from what I hoped (or whatever the zombie equivalent of hope is, because apparently Master says we don’t have that either) was Master’s newest recruit, I saw the village temple. Something about it seemed to call to me.

Temples were… bad, right? They were full of people that hated zombies like me, and hated masters like Master even more. Still, something about the idea of a temple seemed to resonate with me. 

Was I a temple when I was alive? Wait, no, a temple is a building. I’m not a building… am I? No, no, I’m a zombie, and zombies used to be not zombies. But temples aren’t zombies. So was I a temple? Oh, wait, people go inside temples! Maybe I was an inside-temple person!

(I chose to ignore whatever sensation sparked up when the word “inside” came up, because Master says that one is definitely a feeling zombies don’t have.)

That would explain why every time we take a village, the not-zombies are screaming things like “They got a priestess!” and “The gods have abandoned us! Our prayers mean nothing!” when they saw me. 

Wow, Master said zombies don’t think, so whatever that was, it was hard! (There’s that weird feeling again…) 

I was so lost inside my own numb skull that I hardly even noticed myself blundering past the temple gates.

In front of me, there was a girl with a determined expression, already crouched into a fighting stance, staring at me with steely intensity. If I had remembered much of anything about the not-zombie I used to be, I might think that she was around my age, but I didn’t, so I didn’t.

“That’s far enough, abomination.” she said with grim resolve. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Sacking a village meant taking everything. How were we supposed to sack a temple if we didn’t go all the way into it?

“I was hired to protect this village, and that’s exactly what I intend to do!” she shouted, her hands glowing bright. She launched a wild haymaker at me. 

People seem to expect zombies to be slow and awkward, and I guess a lot of them are. But I guess I’m way faster than people expect, because they always look super surprised when I dodge out of the way of their hits. This girl was no exception, which was silly, because she had big boobies that visibly threw off her center of balance. Why did she ever bother trying to be a hand-fighty lady? She would be way better and way happier as a zombie!

She was exactly the kind of new recruit Master loved! And she was way too cute to just repurpose! I knew if I brought this new friend back to Master, he would tell me I did a good job, and look at me, and think about me, and maybe even touch me…

And so I bit her. It’s super fun having the cognitive limiters that usually cap your bite force taken away. It feels freeing, knowing that you can chew through plate mail if you need to, assuming that you have a replacement jaw lying around for after it’s done.

Her arm came off with a satisfying *snap*. She screamed and staggered backward as the severed limb fell with an unceremonious *thud*. 

“I… you…” she sputtered woozilly. The wound was gushing. She would be ready to be brought to master in no time. I took a lurching step forward. I was such a good zombie. My mouth spread into a rictus grin. This girl was going to make such a good member of the horde! Maybe even Master’s second favorite, behind me!

As her vision faded, I’m sure she caught me greeting her as I grabbed her by the shoulders to haul her to Master.

“Beeeeeesssstiiiiieeee…” I moaned.

Master had his house guard set his palanquin outside the village walls, where they had begun setting up camp by the time I got to him with my prize. Again, zombies don’t feel envy, so I didn’t envy Master’s house guard, I just wanted what they had so badly that I would do anything to get it for myself. That’s different, right?

I could see the look on Master’s face shift from irritation to shocked amusement. Master got to have all the feelings he wanted. I wanted to love seeing all the feelings he felt, but zombies don’t do that, so whatever the fluttery feeling in my long-stopped heart was, it apparently wasn’t that.

“Huh, wow. I knew adding an ex-priestess to our horde would pay dividends, but this is exceeding my expectations. You’ve already taken down the adventurer guarding this place? I figured this was going to be an all day experience. Good job, I guess.”

All of a sudden, there was something running down my leg. Not effluvia nor the juices of decay, but something that felt incongruously warm and alive. I shivered. Or whatever zombies do instead of shivering. 

Master regarded me dispassionately.

“Well that’s interesting… do you… like it when I compliment you?”

I could only respond with a grunt and another trickle of mysterious liquid visibly splattering on the ground.

“Hmmm… y’know, you’ve been demonstrating incongruous behavior for a low-level mindless undead for a while. Is it possible that your frayed connection to divinity kept some part of you alive in undeath?”

He had seemingly lost interest in the gift I brought him, but there would be time to make a new friend out of her. For now, Master was looking at me. Just me. His undivided attention felt like a grace far stronger and more tangible than any distant divinity I may or may not have consorted with in life.

I giggled. It was a sound far faster and breathier than I could normally make, but it came like second-nature.

Master’s eyes widened.

“No, regular zombies definitely don’t do that. Have I… have I stumbled on the greatest necromantic discovery of the millennium?”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he was holding me by the shoulders and staring me straight in the eyes, and that made me feel complete in a way that no pile of delicious rotting meat ever had.

“Do you remember your name, Zivinia?”

I didn’t. Even though it was literally the last thing he said, I didn’t remember it, because Zivinia died in a temple fire three weeks ago, and Master’s best zombie simply didn’t have the faculties to keep so many (one) name(s) organized. Certainly not while his glorious gaze scoured my simple undead psyche clean with its intensity.

“Nuuuuuhhh…” I finally managed out, a thick glob of gore and drool falling from my mouth onto my modestly-sized titties. I was downright flat compared to this new girl, but that really wasn’t a fair comparison. Master looked down and seemed to agree, if the thing I saw visibly shift beneath his robe was any indication.

Master drew back just a bit. "I see. Well, still, being coherent enough to answer a question at all is pretty remarkable.”

I nodded enthusiastically. Still totally lost trying to parse what he was talking about, but being a “remarkable” was good, right? Maybe if I reminded him of the gift I had brought him.

“Maaaake… frieeeeend…” I moaned again, pointing to the one-armed girl on the ground next to us.

Master’s face was a smorgasbord of forbidden feelings. Shock and excitement and curiosity and arousal and pride and terror and a whole bunch of other words I didn’t really know anymore flickered and dissipated. It was mesmerizing.

“She… she has priorities? That level of independence is almost worrying…” he said. That didn’t sound good. 

I nuzzled up to him. Is that what good zombies do? I couldn’t remember, I was too busy reeling from feeling that feeling zombies definitely aren’t supposed to have, and it told me to nuzzle him, so I did.

Master sighed before, gesturing to summon one of his acolytes.

“Alright, get her prepped. We’ll start the ritual…”

Master looked down at my gore-and-drool-soaked body, and began to guide me by the hand to his personal tent.

“Mmmph. In, like, two hours, okay?”

By the time we were in his tent, I no longer had any doubts that I was, in fact, master’s favorite zombie.