Blood
The Dead Girl opened her eyes, her body stiff but more alive than it had felt when she had lost her life the second time. She was slowly gaining at least the illusion of mortality. Her fingertips were pink and her eyes clear, though still seeming to be without soul. It had been a few weeks since she had faced the serial killer and had taken a few lives since then.
In that time the cave had been turned into a home. A wall with a lockable door had been installed. The fireplace had a drying rack. By the stream was a rain catcher. The pile of bodies had been moved behind the cave and inside a small shack. The Dead Girl had worked her magic to preserve them to hopefully last as she grew stronger.
Her bedroom now had a chest of clothes for her and Constance. Past their bedroom, deeper into the cave, were the bedrooms of the dead that had risen.
It wasn't a home, but it was good enough. Though, when The Dead Girl recognized the hands massaging her feet, carefully working out the stiffness in her joints, she felt at home. She leaned up on her elbows and looked through hooded eyes at Constance. The older woman didn't react to The Dead Girl's movement. Her hooded eyes were filled with intent. She bit her lip when she put strength into her wrists, crackling The Dead Girl's joints.
"Good morning," She sang, "I thought you could use a foot rub now that you're healing. I figured I may do more harm than good while you were still so stiff. Does it feel good now?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad."
Constance moved her hands to massage The Dead Girl's calves, then her knees. The Dead Girl sunk into the mattress. She could feel her muscles turning to butter under Constance's deft hands.
"Your skin is softer than I'd expect."
The Dead Girl felt tingles run up her legs. Her warm muscles melted and her body sunk further into the mattress. Constance gently turned The Dead Girl onto her stomach and sat atop her. She slid her fingers under the younger girl's shirt and worked her fingers through The Dead Girl's muscles with ease. Her back crackled. She felt Constance rub circles on either side of The Dead Girl's spine.
"You never told me your name."
"Told you mind own."
"Does that seem like me?"
"Point."
"I'd like to get to know you."
"You bad ideas."
Constance scoffed, "And why's that?"
"Danger situations."
"Do you mean you get in dangerous situations?"
"Yes."
"That doesn't change the care I feel for you."
"Should."
"Maybe. Maybe having a friend will lead you to be more careful."
"Am."
"You can never be too careful."
"You annoy."
"I know the feeling."
"Just massage."
Constance flicked the back of The Dead Girl's head and resumed massaging her back. The Dead Girl stretched. Constance moved to The Dead Girl's neck and The Dead Girl let out a satisfied groan when tingles took over her body. Warmth spread through her. Constance's hands moved to the front of The Dead Girl's neck and her body tensed. Constance's hands immediately moved to The Dead Girl's shoulder blades.
"I won't touch your neck. I'm sorry."
"Not fault."
"Did something happen to your neck?"
"Decap-tate."
"That's horrible. You were executed?"
"Yes."
Constance paused. She stroked The Dead Girl's hair before returning to her massage.
"I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt you," She thought aloud, "Why were you executed, if I may ask?"
"Necromancy."
Witchcraft wasn't illegal, but necromancy was viewed as far worse than murder. Constance knew that The Dead Girl still practiced the forbidden art. The Dead Girl couldn't help but wonder her opinion as silence fell over them.
"I enjoy massaging you," She hummed, thoughtful.
The Dead Girl hadn't considered what touching another would mean for Constance, what pleasing another could mean for her. The Dead Girl was far more dangerous. Her lifeless eyes and the scar circling her neck would draw terror out of many. She hoped maybe Constance took power from her actions.
"You're powerful woman."
Constance's hands stopped. She pulled back and The Dead Girl looked at her from the corner of her eye. She saw tears brim Constance's eyes. She turned and sat up to take the crying woman into her arms and together they laid down on the bed. Constance squeezed The Dead Girl. She buried her face in the pool of black hair and let herself cry as The Dead Girl soothed her.
"I'm here," The Dead Girl hummed as she rubbed her back.
Constance recovered quickly. She pulled back and laid her hand on The Dead Girl's cheek. She gave a pained smile.
"I'm so thankful for you."
"Too."
"Can I give you a name?" She asked as she tucked The Dead Girl's hair behind her ear. When she received a nod she pursed her lips in thought, "Minta."
"Minta?"
"You don't like it?"
"I like. Minta."
"I'm glad."
"Make food for you. Relax."
Minta stood and walked outside to where a deer hung from a tree as the servant carved the animal. She took a steak and began cooking it on the bonfire. She watched as the flames crackled. Through the corner of her eye she saw the black boots of the thief come into view.
"Yes?"
"Can I teach Constance to fight?"
She figured that since the cave had finished its renovations that the thief would need a job to keep her busy. Growing up on the streets she'd be a good choice.
Minta had practiced her necromancy since her death. It took some relearning since she was working with an everchanging body. She had reversed the decay of the thief. The servant, however, would have needed far more skill to reverse what had been done to him. She had reversed his decay but she wanted to wait to heal his wounds when she was more confident in herself.
She had resurrected a hunter and a guard. They both tended the small farm beyond the stream during the day.
"Yes. Ask guard help. First, though, food."
The thief scampered into the cave to propose her idea to Constance. Once Minta finished cooking she added spice and sauce to the steak and brought it into her room. She set the plate before Constance who thanked her and ate readily.
Minta relaxed as the women spoke about self defense and weapons. She found her eyes to always stray to Constance.