It was the same every day, standing there on the wall, shoulder to shoulder with thousands of others just like him, pushing his bladed spear into the mass of dead things climbing to overwhelm them. He did this two hours each day until his arms burned and his back ached and someone came to relieve him.

The siege had been going on so long no one even remembered when it began. In the distance, beyond the wall was the crumbling remains of the towers of another wall, lost so long ago the tale of it's fall had faded into legend. He often wondered about that wall, especially because even as he helped defend this one, workers were erecting another, even taller one behind it.

Who could say how many walls there had been, or how many yet there might be? Such was the reality of being besieged by the dead who dragged off whatever corpses they could and returned with their force added to their own.