“Tyson… It’s been all night.” Giselle said. She had a soft spot for Tyson. No one could match her love for him, and some day, she soon hoped to marry him.
“Tyson” She said again, “Let me take guard.” But it was no use. He stood still at his post as would a rock. He ignored her, for he knew it would work to get her away, he did not like her to be out in the night ever since the nightwalkers came to stalk the living.
Giselle did not know what to say, she knew why he stood at his guard, ever since the death of his brother, Willem, Tyson had forgotten all his wants, all he wanted was to fight, fight for the living and his dead brother who came to his nightmares every time he dreamed.
Tyson’s baby brother had gone out the day before last, it was after he returned, crazed, had he learned of the death of his brother, and preached of some kind of tree that grew out of the well in seconds after he had wept of his brother.
Tyson had rifle in arms.
They are coming he said A war is to be fought