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There was something else alive in this area besides her, and she was going to find it.
    It didn’t take her long to track the sound. It was close and it was in trouble. Rachael knew that she was running into danger, but the cry of that horse mattered more. It touched something deep inside her.
    Not far beyond the trees were acres of fenced fields, the long grass rustling in the wind. Ducking under the posts, Rachael moved swiftly towards the barn in the center, scanning around nervously for possible threats. She could see movement along the side of the barn, and pulled one of her daggers, creeping closer silently. There were Orcs, though she couldn’t tell if the smell was from them or from the barn, a handful of them that were trying reach through the open barn windows. There was no way they could get into the barn—the fields were fenced and gates locked, and the big barn door led directly into the fields. There was at least one horse in the barn though, Rachael could hear it, though why it didn’t just leave the barn she wasn’t sure.
    Using the pommel of her dagger she banged it against the metal gate, the hollow clanging unnervingly loud.
    “Over here, you ugly lumps!!” Rachael yelled, continuing to hit metal on metal. The Orcs, distracted by the sudden and new sound, turned to stumble towards her, lunging with moldy hands reached out for her, flesh and sinew hanging from bone. Pulling her elven dagger out of her belt, she waited until the first one was within arm’s reach, then drove the dagger into the back of its skull. It crumpled to the ground as the second and third one reached the gate. She cleared the group without any problems, holding her breath as the rancid smell washed over her, breathing out her mouth and fighting to keep down the power bar she’d eaten earlier. Wiping the thick black blood on the grass, she kept it in hand, just in case, and moved over to the barn cautiously. The frantic cries of the horse had stopped, though she could still hear the hooves against the hard floor and deep snorting.
    Could a horse become infected? Rachael hadn’t come across many animals since New York, and a mental image of a half decomposed horse carrying an Orc across a field as if it were riding into battle flashed across her eyes. It was almost comical, something absurd from a corny movie, but she shook that off quickly. This wasn’t a movie, and if animals could become infected there was a whole lot of new problems they were going to run into. Dead humans were bad enough; dead wolves were terrifying.
    She peeked around the corner hesitantly, worried about what she might find. The horse was halfway down the barn, watching her with wild eyes. Living eyes.
    Tucking her knife into her belt, she put her hands up in front of her, trying to calm the horse. It tried to back away, but the lead kept it in place. Rachael didn’t need to imagine the horrors that this horse had seen in the last year. It probably thought she was going to try to hurt it.
    “Shhhhh…it’s okay.” Rachael slowly inched her bag off her back and reached in, scouting for an apple. Taking a bite out of it and putting it in her hand, she moved closer to the horse, hand out, trying to tempt it with the treat. Its nostrils were flaring, watching her with panic, but it let her come closer.
    “Look… look… it’s an apple. You remember apples?” she asked in a calming voice, standing still with her hand out. The horse’s ears flicked forward at the word apple. Rachael didn’t move, letting the horse come to her. Its brown hair was matted and fur caked with mud and dried blood, but it looked to be in one piece—no gashes, cuts or bites.
    Pablo—she already mentally named him Pablo after a horse she’d rode when she was a kid—shifted back and forth nervously, ears flicking, watching her every move, but let her approach, taking the bit of apple and munching on it eagerly.
    “This isn’t going to be easy,” she said to him quietly.