I was on the road for several weeks, first travelling east along the Farsea coast to South Cove, then south into the Frontier's interior.  There were a few hamlets along the long road in addition to the towns of Meadow's End and Laketon, but while all had graveyards, all were either too conspicuously located to permit me to do what I needed to do, or they were so infrequently added to that I would not have been able to find a sufficiently fresh corpse. Many nights I rested along the roadside, too uncomfortable to sleep. Other nights, the few coins I could afford for inn rooms bought only uncomfortable, common room accommodations, and again, discomfort kept sleep from me.

Then I came to Dryad Falls. This was a large town with a cemetery separated from the town by a stretch of forest. It was secluded, and the town was sufficiently populated that it suffered deaths at least one every few days. I was able to break into a mausoleum that looked like it had not been visited in decades; there I set up my experiments and concocted my elixirs. Two days later, the undertakers delivered me my first experimental subject.

After digging it up that night, I arranged the body and other accoutrements as required for the reanimation ritual. But as I performed the rites, it became clear that something was wrong. The body reanimated, but it lunged clumsily for me - clearly seeing me as either threat or prey, certainly not as its master. Fortunately, the creature did not move well, so I was able to easily escape it.

After leading it away from the mausoleum, I was able to circle back and recover all of my equipment and supplies. But I realized that my animated creature was heading for the town, and  so it became  obvious that I could no longer stay and work here. The town would be able to deal with the creature easily enough, but it would also investigate, and I would surely be found. And so, instead of the sleep of triumph that I had looked forward to, I would instead spend the night fleeing yet another town.

During the week's journey to the next town, Feybridge Crossing, I was able to review my ritual notes and realize my error. At least I could expect to perform that part of my experiment correctly next time. During the evenings of my journey, the anticipation of success and the fear of abject failure competed to prevent me from getting any decent rest.

I had hoped that Feybridge Crossing would be suitable, but the graveyard was next to their church, and the church was in the town square. I recall thinking it odd for the town's boneyard to be in the heart of the village, but these rustics on the frontier do strange things. Regardless, this town would not do. Perhaps Karnstown, about two weeks journey  from here, would be more appropriate. It was known to be a large, but mostly lawless town, so I truly hoped my search would end favorably there.

At the end of another day of walking past the occasional farmstead nestled into the forest, I sought a place to make a camp. Coming upon a roadside clearing, I tried to get some sleep, but as was the case every night on the road, sleep was fitful and unsatisfying. 

In the morning, as I was about to depart, though, I heard what sounded like crying coming from deeper in the wood. Creeping forward, I spied a clearing with a number of wooden markers planted in the ground. Had I stumbled upon a farmstead graveyard? At the far side, stood several people, gathered in a half-circle with their backs toward me. They watched as one man shoveled dirt. The women were sobbing. After a momemt, the people all left, never noticing me as I skulked at the edge of the forest. Where they were standing there were two new markers at the end of two fresh piles of earth.

I could not believe my luck! Not one fresh body, but two! Two chances to realize my life's work. And this place was as remote as I could have hoped for. I resolved to return in the night, open the graves, and conduct my tests. I set up a new camp deep in the woods and attempted to get some rest. I knew it would be a long night, so sleep now would be helpful. But with the anticipation, I could not sleep.

After the sun set, I returned. Digging through the fresh, soft earth was easy and I soon had both bodies uncovered. They appeared to be young, strong men, felled by injuries - one with a crushed chest, the other with a deep gash from shoulder to heart. I hauled them out of their earthen beds and arranged them and the circle needed for the reanimation ritual.

I conducted the reanimation ritual more carefully, making sure to not make the same errors as last time. My care was rewarded; at the end of the ritual, I had two docile zombies awaiting my commands. All that stood between me and triumph was to administer my elixir and await the transformation.  Handing the vial to one of the pair, I directed it to drink, and it did.

The transformation was rapid, but not what I anticipated. Initially, the undead being collapsed, writhing, as if fighting with itself. But when the convulsions subsided, the creature looked up at me not with the eyes of intelligence, but with eyes of rage and hatred. It leapt for me and sunk its sharp teeth into my shoulder before I could even react.

I do not recall how I managed to get out of its grasp, or how I managed to outrun it. When I regained my composure, I found myself running down the road toward Karnstown. My face was bleeding from clawmarks; my shoulder throbbed painfully where it had been bitten. I ran until I could run no further,  and collapsed on the side of the road. But though I was exhausted and hurt, my sleep was tortured by pain and horrid nightmares.

When I awoke, I knew I was in trouble. I was feverish, and after being attacked by a creature such as I had inadvertently made last night, I knew what that meant. I was infected, and if I let this infection take me, I would die, then rise as a creature just like him. As I fumbled through my pack, I realized that I did not even remember grabbing it in my escape. Somewhere in my pack, though, I had elixirs to treat diseases such as this... but I could not find them! In fact several vials were missing. They must have fallen out in my haste to grab the pack and run.

It appeared, at least, that my raw ingredients were all there; I could make more elixir if I had a quiet, safe place to work. I recall hearing from the Feybridge Crossing townsfolk that there was an Inn along this road. If I could just reach it, I could concoct the elixir I needed to survive. I was tired and sick, but had no choice but to move on, hoping the Inn was close enough to reach before nightfall.

It barely was. There were fewer than a dozen patrons in the inn when I arrived. Though I was brusque with him, the innkeeper was kind, accomodating, and asked no questions. He showed me to a private cabin behind the inn and promised to leave me in peace. Except for an old woman who brought me a bowl of stew and pot of tea, I was indeed left alone.  Rummaging through what was left in my pack, I realized to my dismay that I was missing one key ingredient for my antidote.  But I was tired... so tired... In the morning, I would find what I needed and heal myself.  Collapsing on the bed, raging with fever now, I tried to sleep.  But I could not... and so I was still awake as I felt Death's cold, icy fingers close slowly around my throat in the dead of the night.