Head 1: "...Once a day, maybe? Maybe. The others-"

She points out at other dolls, huddled in the darkness.

Head 1: "They go too, some times. When they remember. So, we keep warm. Mostly warm."

Head 2: "C-cold... So cold..."

Head 1: "I-I know! I know, Myla. I'll fix it."

She continues to fuel the fire, pulling her rags to cover her other head.

Head 1: "Every day, lots. Lots of people. But- There's always more, coming. It's like, like this is a tourist attraction. Or! Or a pilgrimage site. Yes.

Some, walk out, too. But! But, not all."

Head 2: "Church... Want... Go inside..."

EVENTS:

The group returns to the truck, grabbing camping, digging and cold weather supplies. Peggy makes sure the cargo bay is locked, covers the engine compartment with a tarp so no snow can get in, and sets up a small flag pole, to help find the vehicle in case it becomes buried in the snow.

EVENTS:

Eigla and Rosa scope out the church. The dilapidated stone building is clearly ancient, and might have been grand once. Most of the windows are broken and covered with cloth, though a few still display stained glass panels.

The most prominent feature is obviously the crooked tower, with its antennas and satellite dishes. A rusted iron bell lies beside it on the roof, blown off its support by some past storm. Whichever toll the zombies are hearing, it's not an actual sound. Though... You can hear scraps of organ music coming from within, though atonal and faint.

The large iron and wood doors are only partially open, and a line of undead wait in front of them. Every few minutes, one or two are let inside.

EVENTS:

Eigla approaches one of the windows, peeking inside through a crack in the stained glass.

Pews. Candlelight. Dozens of zombies, looking blankly ahead. Organ music? And, someone's saying something, but the music drowns it out. Half-melted candles, probably made of human grease.

Suddenly, a figure approaches, staring at Eigla before she has a chance to back out. It has a skinless, skull-like face and hollow orbits in place of eyes. The presence grunts before pulling the curtains tightly closed, rendering her peephole useless.



Klimt approaches the line. The zombies seem mildly confused at first, but soon part, giving way to the superior undead warrior.