Luna followed the dirt path until it widened into cobblestone streets. She had never seen so many lights before—lanterns hanging on doorposts, candles glowing in windows, and torches burning on tall poles to keep the darkness away. The whole village seemed alive with warmth, buzzing with laughter and voices.
For a moment, she stood frozen at the edge, staring like a child looking at a dream. Her gray fingers clutched at her torn dress. Would they see her as a girl? Or only as a monster?
A door swung open nearby, spilling golden light into the night. A woman stepped out, carrying a basket of bread. She hummed softly as she set it on her stoop to cool. The smell drifted to Luna like magic. Her empty stomach growled, and her cloudy eyes widened.
The little zombie girl took a step closer. Then another.
"Hungry…" she whispered.
Her voice startled the woman. She spun around, eyes sharp, and gasped. The basket dropped—loaves tumbling into the dust.
"Demon!" the woman shrieked.
The cry cut through the air like a blade. Doors opened. People poured out, carrying sticks, lanterns, even pitchforks.
Luna froze, trembling. So many faces, all staring at her—eyes wide with horror, mouths twisting with fear.
"She's one of them!" a man shouted.
"A gravewalker!" another cried.
"Get it before it spreads sickness!"
The crowd surged forward. Luna stumbled back, her legs stiff and clumsy. She turned to flee, but someone hurled a stone—it struck her shoulder with a dull thunk. She didn't feel pain, not really, but the force made her stumble.
Her pale lips trembled. "I… I'm not… bad…"
But her voice was too soft. No one listened.
Just as the villagers closed in, a clear voice rang out from behind them:
"Stop! Don't hurt her!"
The crowd hesitated. A boy pushed through the wall of adults, his brown hair falling into his eyes. He looked no older than twelve, his hands clutching a lantern. Unlike the others, his face wasn't twisted with fear—it was filled with wonder.
"She's… she's just a girl," he said, stepping closer to Luna.
The villagers muttered, uneasy.
"A girl?"
"She's a corpse, boy! Stay back!"
"She'll bite you!"
But the boy shook his head. His lantern light fell over Luna's face, and for the first time, someone saw not just the pale skin and cloudy eyes, but the smallness of her frame, the way her lips trembled like she wanted to cry.
Luna stared back at him. No one had looked at her like that before—not with fear, but with… kindness.
"I'm… Luna," she whispered, voice cracking.
The boy blinked. Then he smiled, small but genuine.
"I'm Elias," he said. "Don't be afraid. I won't let them hurt you."
The villagers looked between the two children, their fear battling with uncertainty. The silence stretched, thick and tense. Finally, an elder man stepped forward, leaning on his staff. His eyes narrowed at Luna, sharp and cautious.
"If the boy's wrong," the elder said coldly, "then it will be on his head."
With that, the crowd began to scatter, muttering as they returned to their homes. Lanterns dimmed one by one, leaving only Elias standing there with Luna under the silver moonlight.
Luna's knees shook. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run or stay. But Elias's smile steadied her.
"Come on," he said gently. "You look like you need food and a place to rest. I know somewhere safe."
And for the first time since leaving the graveyard, Luna felt something strange stir inside her—something even warmer than hunger.
Hope.