Another impact. Violetta began to sob, the sound faint. Muffled. Cara tried to say something. She heard Idelt’s voice instead. He was whispering under the door crack.

“Violetta. Be calm. They will not get in…”

The sobbing didn’t change. Cara thought it was so wrong. She should have been in the same room with him. Let Idelt hold her. But…she whispered.

“Idelt?”

The man shifted positions to her door.

“Are you well, Miss Cara?”

She couldn’t see; the crack between floor and door was too small. But she saw a shadow amid the faint glow of light.

“Is Violetta…I mean, she was so fearless when she killed the rabbit.”

“That was different. Children are taught to ensure the dead stay dead. Violetta—remembers something else. We have had to take shelter from the undead before. And once—”

The man’s voice broke off. Cara heard the strain, the faltering words. The [Singer] opened her eyes as another thump came from the door. Heavier. The bear was trying to get in.

“Did she—?”

Silence. Something hit a wall, and Cara heard a crack as something broke. The impact came again, and Idelt moved.

“Wait. I must check the door.”

She heard his footsteps moving. Violetta was crying. Cara heard her, muffled. And then Idelt returned.

“Nothing broke through the walls. The deer must have broken its antlers. Or a bone. Violetta. The undead can’t get in.”

Sure enough—despite their persistence, the shambling zombies had neither the speed nor intelligence to really do a run up and crash into the door. And even if they did—it still might have held.

It didn’t stop the crying. Nor the terror Cara herself felt. She remembered the zombie looking at her, clawing at her. Screaming for Ser Dalius and—

“Idelt! I mean—Idelt. W-what happened to Violetta’s mother? If it’s not…”

If it’s not personal? Cara gulped for air. But the man replied after only a beat.

“She and Violetta were home when I was absent one night. I had to stay in town; it was too dark. It was…a pack of animals. Raccoons. The door was locked. But Violetta had forgotten to shutter the chimney. Her mother was in the living room.”

Cara felt sick. She clutched at her arms.

“I—don’t tell me any more. Please.”

Thump. A scream, muffled again. Idelt rustled.

“Violetta. You’re safe. Be calm. Be—”

He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t open the door. He should have. Custom be damned. Cara clenched her fists, grinding her teeth to feel the pain as the undead scraped and bumped around the house.

How could someone live like this? Night after night of this? Even if it wasn’t a bear, fearing that some mouse or bird had died and might sneak up on you?