"Meh," you say with a short wave and a turned back. You leave the hut and travel to the nearby tavern where you lose the last of your beet profits to the largest stein of mead you've ever seen. As you down the brew, you consider the day's events.

The whole reason you chased after your future with such haste this morning was to avoid diving blindly into dangerous caves. Anyhow, if the world needs this Horn so badly, someone else will probably handle it. Maybe eve--*hiccup*--even, even one of those dirty, awkwardly smooth-cheeked--*hiccup*--should go in there. I mean, I meeean, they seem justtas capa--cape--capabull.

You black out against the counter of the bar and wait for morning.

In the morning you travel back to your small hut, and continue to live out your small existence as a smalltime beet miner. You're somewhat surprised to experience the apocalypse two weeks later. Huh, you think as a zombie begins to eat you, starting with your left foot, I guess those guys were right.


Mike Kayatta is a contributing news writer for The Escapist and the author of John Gone. Paul Goodman is a loyal editorial assistant at The Escapist. Together, they fight crime.

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