An arduous approach

Harrowing groans and wails of the dead echoed around her as she shambled inside the horde. Peeking out under the hood, her eyes caught the undead right beside her. Most of its cheek was missing, exposing the slug-like tongue and yellow teeth within as it lumbered past her, its attention fixated on the the **** survivors ahead. Keeping her trembling breath under control, she followed behind the zombie.

She didn't know what was worse, the overpowering stench of all the rotten bodies gathered in the town square or the fact that she was starting to become accustomed to the sicky sweet, musty scent. Even with her compromised sense of smell, she couldn't get used to the gunge against her clothing, hair and bare skin. In her movements she could feel the muck from the cloak repeatedly peeling off from her pale skin, each time leaving a little more residue before sticking to her once again, while enticed flies buzzed around her. Annette's brow furrowed as murky fluid trailed down from her hair, congealing in her eyelashes, forcing her to wince and blink rapidly eventually flinging it loose.

Ignoring the repulsive side-effects, masking her appearance and smell with the rags and rot of the undead seemed to be working well as she made a surprising distance across the square. She could make out the faces of her fellow villagers when the zombie with the torn cheek she had been following went rigid as an arrowhead suddenly plunged through the back of the skull. The sudden headshot splattered the Priestess in black fluid, mercifully shielded by her lowered hood.

The creature leant back from the impact and began to fall backwards.

Lurching to the side just in time, Annette kept moving forward as she heard the slimy body colliding with the cobblestone road behind her. She could do naught but pray that the next arrow from the gameskeeper wasn't aimed at her. In an attempt to minimise the chance of that, she tried to follow closely behind the tallest undead ahead of her that featured a sickle lodged between its shoulder blades.

As the ranks of undead spread out around the barricades, Annette's mind raced about how she might scale the defences without being caught by the horde and dragged back. If she timed it too early, then she'd be overwhelmed by the undead, while timing it too late increased the chance of one of the villagers unknowingly killing her.

Looking to her right, she noticed a zombie atop several unmoving corpses at the base of the wooden defences as it lunged forward at one of the survivors after he made a mistimed strike. The impossibly strong grip from the rotting hands dragged the man over the edge as he yelled out in horror. Boasting impressive reactions, an older man with a pitchfork speared cleanly through the head of the aggressing zombie and pulling the screaming man back behind the wall. The newest addition to the corpse pile staggered forward before falling onto the wooden stakes below it.

Springing to action, Annette wrestled the sickle out of the undead she had been using as an arrow shield and yanked the hood of her cloak back at the cost of several strands of hair, her red locks flowed free from the mouldy fur. Sprinting forth towards the new bridge leading to safety, she yelled out to anyone who could hear her over the combat:

"Please, let me in! It's Annette! It's Annette!"

Darting through the startled undead who turned to investigate the feminine screams from within the swarm, the Priestess jumped to the top of the piled bodies as the nearest of the creatures grabbed at her. A putrid, slimy hand clamped tightly onto her tit and another pulled down from the top of her pants as the perverted **** threatened her chances of escape.

"Augh! Get off me! .. YAAGHH!"

Her borrowed sickle accompanied a scream of adrenaline-filled resistance as she wildly swung towards the head of the creature groping her, sinking the blade through its right ear before the curved blade tore out from within its vacant left eye socket. Strength left its lecherous hands as it reeled from the damage. Annette had barely processed the successful strike and let go of the sunken farming implement as a warm hand grabbed her arm and spared no time pulling her up away from the horde and safely behind the piled furniture.