The White Doe

They scouted about, hoping to surprise a Walker or two asleep, but luck was not with them. They started a fire and ate their evening meal of stewed meat, fish, fruits and vegetables early, before the sun set.

When they had finished, Ceremonial Fox removed the smalls pots of paint, blessed them and carefully painted the warriors in preparation for the battle.

The others took naps, but White Doe could not sleep. All she saw when she closed her eyes was the shuffling Walkers, rotting flesh dripping from their faces, approaching with slow, implacable purpose.

The sun began to set.

Takes From Eagle added more wood to the fire.

White Doe noticed that he kept looking at her. The irritation she felt drove out the fear and she was grateful.

Ceremonial Fox tensed, his alert pose mimicking that of the fox for which he was named. "They come." He said, softly.

White Doe tensed. In the bag slung across her shoulder were the tools she would need: several sharp stakes of wood and a small tomahawk, to bash in the Walkers' skulls. Now she withdrew a stake and clutched it, ready to strike as she had been trained.

As one, the warriors got to their feet, their backs to the fire and waited.

The Walkers--seven of them--emerged from the shadows and White Doe blinked. These did not look like monsters. They looked human. She even saw the familiar face of Careful Listener, who had disappeared a few months ago.

"Father," She said. "These are not Walkers." She lowered the hand that held the stake and looked at her father.

And that was when the Walker sprang. Careful Listener's face contorted before her eyes. His brown eyes went yellow, his face angular and bestial. Hot breath that smelled of old blood assaulted her as he opened his mouth, crammed full of impossibly large teeth.

Instinct and training kicked in and White Doe fought back, getting her hand under his chin and shoving upward with her full strength. She saw surprise flit over his obscene features, but he rallied. Twisting, she managed to flip the Walker onto his back. She saw an opening and took it, jabbing the sharp stick into the center of his chest.

Careful Listener cried out, sharply, then the next thing White Doe knew she was kneeling on the earth, covered with fined dust.

She sprang to her feet and seized another stake in a single smooth motion. Shouting, she leaped onto the Walker who clutched Takes From Eagle. A fluid motion and the Walker was destroyed.

White Doe whirled to catch the next one and the next one. Dear gods, there are so many... She was dimly aware that she was not alone in this fight.

Ceremonial Fox's chanting voice rose above the furor and Takes From Eagle and Evergreen Thunder swung their clubs fiercely.

And as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

White Doe stood panting, her body slick with sweat, her fine golden hair was matted to her brow.

They were gone, save the three that lay with smashed skulls at their feet.

A hand fell on White Doe's shoulder. She whirled and was only just able to stop in time to prevent herself from injuring her father. She stared at him, then wordlessly let herself be folded into an embrace. She began to sob. She had not expected it to be so horrible.

"You are very brave. I have never seen anyone fight as you have, little White Doe. We shall call you the Slayer, for you slay with the strength of many men." Said Takes From Eagle.

As she recovered and pulled away from her father, White Doe saw Ceremonial Fox regarding her with an odd expression. She did not like that look. Something about it frightened her.