Winter lost its pristine grace the moment the corpses dug up through the earth, bursting through the snow and marring the landscape like buboes on a plague victim. They pulled themselves from the earth and pulled themselves through the dry, white covering, leaving slither trails as they pressed forward, forever in lookout for something to devour. Sometimes it was a woodland creature, sometimes it was each other. They wandered directionless across the landscape Until they reached the town. Statistically, it had to happen, they had to reach civilization eventually. That knowledge was of little comfort to those who lived there.