It was almost like having a home.

But homes needed protecting, and the rumors and tales spread of the woman dressed as a superhero and armed with a sword, cutting through the undead. People traveled to join them, looking for safety, for a place to belong in their new, more dangerous world.

As their numbers grew, however, so did the threats. They would welcome anyone who wanted security and agreed do their part, but there were always enemies who would try to take their home, and orcs who stalked the landscape. Rachael couldn’t protect them all herself, even with Brett at her side. He was a brute of a man who used to cosplay Thor without having to use padding. Brett was enormously powerful and moderately quick, but he did not share Rachael’s combat intuition. Or her ruthlessness.

Then Alice, one of the women who had joined around the time of the battle at the farmhouse, expressed interest in learning how to fight so she could help, and that had given Rachael an idea. But she never expected the number of volunteers who stepped forward when she posed the idea to their group.

Wandering through the lines of training survivors, she tapped her stick lightly against legs and arms, adjusting stances and grips.

“Andy, foot farther forward,” came a familiar voice. Rachael smiled at the sound. Brett came up to join her on the field. She was glad he hadn’t left with their last patrol. The group was safer for having another competent fighter and . . . well, she was happier when he was around.

“Take a break,” she called out, handing her stick to one of the fighters as they walked away, “we’ll resume in twenty minutes. Make sure to stretch!”

She turned, walking with Brett a short distance away.

“How are they doing?” he asked. He brushed strands of long blond hair that had escaped from his ponytail out of his face and leaned back against a tree, folding muscular arms as he did so.

“They’re getting better,” she responded. “Some of them seem to be picking it up faster than others, but they all want to learn. They all want to protect the people they care about.”

“They have a good teacher, a strong leader.” Brett smiled at her, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her close and draping an arm around her shoulder. “You’ll get them to where they need to be.”

Leaning against his side comfortably, she rested her head against his chest. They watched together in silence as Andy and Brian began to spar, the sound of wood hitting wood echoing across the field. It was a lighthearted practice spar, neither of them trying very hard, but Rachael could see how much they’d improved over the last few weeks.

In the moment of calm, it seemed that everything could be right with the world. No orcs, no bloodthirsty gangs threatening their safety, no loss.

So when the small pack of orcs emerged from the tree line behind Brian and Andy as they fought, the words of warning stuck in her throat . . . lost on the wind that carried the unsettling death rattle of the undead.