They call her Lady Grimm, the other knights, the peasants, her lord. Nobody has asked her what her name is, but neither has she volunteered it. She volunteers almost nothing, says almost nothing. Since the day she showed up at the fort, half-drowned and wearing a ruined arming jacket, her eye and face marred by a livid cut, she has been mysterious and quiet. But she has also been fierce, the strongest defender of the fort, the first into any fray. Zombies stop moving when she hits them with her war hammer, and don’t get up again.