Clasping a hand over my mouth, I bite down so hard on my lip that it hurts. The taste of iron fills my mouth where the skin has cracked.

  The unfortunate victim tangled in the branches continues to stare down at me with blank, lifeless eye sockets.

  Their scalp is completely bare, with nauseating, pulsating veins embedded deep into the flesh—threading out from the surrounding branches. From their mouth, small rivulets of blood begin to trickle over their teeth.

  One drop hangs there for a moment before falling to the ground, where the mud immediately swallows it.

  I continue to stand there. Slowly, I blink and look away.

  This is a murder. Corpse trees don’t take in human corpses—or larger bodies—unless you physically plant the seed in the body while it’s still alive.

  Narrowing my eyes, I scan my surroundings a few more times. Several tentacles are now high on alert, flicking and twitching as their side of the bond hums with energy.

  No wonder the corpse tree’s colors look so strange. I’ve never seen one before; Crystal Blossom is too saturated with asura for them to survive. I just didn’t expect it to have that weird mix of purple.

  Refusing to meet the victim’s eyes, I slowly breathe in and out.

  …This isn’t the first dead body I’ve seen. Dismemberment, dissection, vivisection, liquidation—sure….But…it was never this disrespected. And judging by the state I found them in… they’ve been stuck like this for several days.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch a few tentacles beginning to reach toward the victim’s body. Before I can get a word out, several of them curl tightly around the corpse—and yank.

  The body drops from the branches in a blur of skin and bones.

  'Squelch!'

  Mud flies everywhere, some of it hurling toward me. I swiftly raise my arm, quickly shielding my face.

  As the wet sludge splatters against the sleeve of my coat, a few drops still manage to strike my cheek. A memory I’ve spent years trying to bury suddenly tugs itself free.

  Mud clings to every part of my body as I rest my back against the massive mounds of dirt that make up the trenches. A high-pitched noise vibrates against my skull as my ears begin to ache.

  'Bang!'

  The person beside me suddenly falls, collapsing to the ground. He lies there, eerily still, even as flies begin to buzz around him.

  Clawing myself out of the memory, I grasp my chest and quickly breathe in and out. Bile rushes toward the back of my throat as everything around me spins.

  “Hey, there you are!” a voice suddenly calls from behind me. “What’s taken you so—”

  Swiveling around, I immediately tackle the person to the ground. In a flash, my right hand is at the man’s neck. The tips of my gloved fingers poke through, tearing holes in the fabric.

  Little skeletal tips press close to his skin, just barely nicking it.

  “What are you doing?!” the man screams, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  Snapping out of it, I slowly blink.

  ...What have I done?

  The man starts to struggle, hitting and slamming at my back with his legs. I let go of his neck and quickly back away.

  Placing a hand over my forehead, I slowly breathe in and out. Briefly closing my eyes, I glance back at the man.

  …That man… wasn’t he one of the hunters who sent me in here?

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  “You crazy bitch!” the hunter shouts, raising both arms. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

  In one of his outstretched hands, a ball of asura slowly begins to gather. The tentacles let out a string of annoyed clicks as they quickly move in front of me, ready to lunge at any moment.

  “What’s going on?” another voice calls out as someone approaches. “Don’t tell me you lost her.”

  Before I can respond, the man I had pinned points a finger at me.

  “This crazy zombie tried to kill me!” the hunter shouts.

  Hours later, I squat on the muddy ground a little ways away from the corpse tree. Both my hands are cuffed together, and an uncomfortable, tight piece of cloth is wrapped around my torso, pressing the tentacles against my back. Through the bond, several emotions clash against one another.

  Staring at the mud before me, I slowly blink my eyes.

  …What happened? …How did things end up like this?

  Recalling what I did earlier, I briefly close my eyes.

  …Damn it… Why did I lash out like that? …I had—no, I should have—gotten control of them by now.

  'Crackle!' 'Crackle!'

  Opening my eyes, I turn toward the noise. Several hunters emerge into the light.

  “That corpse tree is kinda freaky,” one of them mutters, loud enough for me to hear. “Gross, too. I don’t want to touch the fruit.”

  “You say that about everything,” another chimes in. “How did you even make it as a hunter in the first place?”

  “I’m serious! Did you see what it does to the corpse? Creepy.”

  While two of the hunters continue to argue and the rest watch on, one of them suddenly stops and turns toward me. I immediately recognize him as the one I had pinned down earlier.

  He begins stomping toward me with a scowl. As he nears, someone grabs him by the shoulder.

  “Calm down, dude,” the other hunter says. “You can’t just go beating people up willy-nilly.”

  The man shrugs off the hand and glowers. “Easy for you to say! You weren’t the one pinned down!”

  “Yeah, but you still can’t beat her up. Mark still has the final say. What he says, goes.”

  Just as the man opens his mouth, looking ready to let loose a string of curses, the other hunter jerks his chin to the left.

  I follow his gaze and see Mark slowly emerging. His body is a mess of fresh scars and fluids.

  Trailing behind him are several hunters—each a little roughed up—and most of the porters. Among them, I spot Mary and Hazel walking side by side.

  “Well, would you look at that,” the hunter casually whistles. “He’s here.”

  As Mark marches closer to us, sweat begins to run down my back. My mouth goes dry as I quickly breathe in and out.

  A slow, dripping dread trickles from the tentacles. The feeling wraps itself around me, threatening to swallow me whole.

  Haaaa… I’m a dead, undead walking…

  “Looks like he got my call,” a hunter says behind me. “Didn’t think it was possible, even with the modified walkie-talkies, considering how dense this place is.”

  “Beatrice!” Mary calls out as I catch her running toward me from the corner of my eye.

  Before she can reach me, a figure suddenly steps in between us. Narrowing my eyes, I look up and see the familiar face of my leader: Mark.

  “So this is the undead that’s been causing trouble?” he asks, eyes boring into me. “Did it do anything else?”

  Staring back at Mark, I fidget with my fingers and bite down on my lip.

  “No. We subdued her, just in case she tried to do anything else,” someone chimes in.

  As Mark is about to speak, the familiar figure of Mary suddenly steps in between us.

  Blinking my eyes, I stare at the woman back. After a moment, I quickly close my mouth and shake my head.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper. “This is my problem! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  Without answering, Mary spreads her arms and glares up at Mark, despite his towering presence.

  “Move,” Mark says, staring down at her.

  "…Look, I don't know what happened, but shouldn't we listen to her side of the story first?" Mary says.

  "First of all, this isn't something that concerns you," Mark says, jabbing a finger at Mary's chest. "Second, are you even aware of what that thing has done?"

  He points at the hunter I had pinned down earlier.

  "That zombie tried to kill one of my men," Mark continues. "This isn't some funny little mishap born of a misunderstanding. The undead pinned him down and nearly nicked him in the neck."

  "No, but…" Mary starts, letting her words trail off. "She doesn't usually act like this. Something must have happened for her to behave that way."

  "So whatever that thing does is excused, then?"

  "I never said that," Mary retorts, tilting her chin up slightly. "Don't twist my words. All I'm saying is that we should have listened to what she—"

  "Mary," I quickly interject, "Enough."

  She pauses, glancing back at me with a questioning, raised eyebrow.

  I give her a look before smoothing out my forehead and turning to Mark with a neutral expression.

  "I’ll take whatever punishment you see fit," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and even.

  Through the bond, the tentacles are a mess of feelings—none of them seem fully aware of what’s going on. Doing my best to ignore them, I push them out of my side of the bond and continue.

  “What happened was my fault,” I say. “No need to bring anyone else into this.”

  A long silence follows my statement. Mark stares at me the entire time without breaking eye contact. Resisting the urge to flinch, I continue to meet his gaze.

  After a moment, the man finally nods.

  “Very well,” Mark says.

  “What are the rest of you lot doing?” Mark barks. “Get back to your work.”

  At that, the onlookers quickly look away and busy themselves with something—anything.

  A rough hand suddenly grabs the collar of my coat and yanks me forward.

  As my body is dragged by the collar, I catch Mary staring at me, her expression fearful and mournful.