The nice thing about zombies, is that they don't tire and they'll eat any part of another monster. Karen was able to rid herself of most of the entrails in her waste pit, by feeding it to Carl's undead tyrant. This meal of rotten flesh should sit heavy in the thing's stomach for a good month at least.
The zombie pulled the wagon north, up into the foothills of Shiptaker Mountains. These steep hills are home to the Groaning Forests. When the winds blow heavy, tree branches throughout the thick mixed forest rub against one another, making ominous groaning sounds. It can be a little unnerving to someone who's never been in such an enviroment.

Instructing Fluffy on how to use the reins and properly guide it's beast of burden, was like a exciting game to her. Leading the wagon up and down the hills of Thunder Trail, the scenery was changing from one fascinating suprise to another.
Various farms and orchards, a river with a beautiful waterfall, and a boggy swamp filled with the sounds of frogs croaking all around them. Even the covered bridges that allowed passage over waterways and crevices were built by artistic hands.
"This forest is a wondrous place of natural treasures and dangers," the old man began. For the moment, he didn't care that he was just talking to a monster. All that he's had to talk to most of the time was either that annoying Hot Foot or his assistant, Seth.

Seth hasn't been good company for quite a while. Her attitude towards the necromancer of late has been leaning towards impatience and scorn. She has always been a little overbearing, now she's down right bossy. Occasionally when he's been in the mood for intimacies, Seth will oblige him, as would be expected from any ranch assistant. But, she always let him know how much of a favor that's she's doing for him. His desire for her has been decreasing in proportion to the increasing resentment building up towards that arrogant ranch hand. The greatest satisfaction that he has in his sad life, is to deny Seth the knowledge of necromancy. Not, just the creations of zombies and ghosts, but also the rare art of combining monsters. Without that knowledge, she will never be more than just another monster rancher.

This kitten is like a breath of fresh air. Earnestly listening to him prattle on any and everything that came to mind. Fluffy's youthful enthusiasm, sense of wonder, and overflowing joy took years off his troubled soul. Her constant leaning into him, her affectionate nature, stirred other feelings as well.
Passing Sticky's farm, the last habitation on this trail; they crested the last, highest hill in time to see the steep black granite mountains take on a purple tint from the setting sun. Much steeper than the hills, the mountains' bare walls gave no purchase to any vegetation; except for the occasional remote ledges and cracks. Streaks of dark gray marble bleeding into some of the individual mountains added a strange perception to how the eyes perceived the closeness and depth of these guardians of the forests. Tall waterfalls fed by the glaciers hidden from veiw poured down, as if to show the rocks how to slide.
Thunder Trail is named for the sounds that the rockslides make, on a almost daily basis. The trail from here on, travels a straight line north by northwest. Running parallel to the base of the west side of these mountains, the trail has many false leads where the way had been blocked by large rocks and boulders that came pouring down.
Despite the danger of having the trail so close to the mountains; townfolks and farmers continue to use this trail in order to gather building materials strong enough to stand against the deep heavy snows, that bury the roof tops of so many homes and barns.
To the north and east of these mountains, is Shiptaker Shoals. Fog enshrouded ships are still being taken by suprise today. Adding even more to a graveyard of ships that runs many miles along the coast.

Pulling the wagon over to the small clearing that the old man normally camps at, he shares some smoked and pickled gordish jerky with his pet. After drinking and washing up at a nearby stream, he pulls out a naga skull and sets it near the fire pit.
Carl considered using fancy hand movements and long meaningless words to impress Fluffy, but he gave up that kind of foolish showmanship long ago. So he simply said,"Hey Stupid. Come here."
The kitten obediantly stopped playing with frogs, and headed towards her master. Fluffy was stopped short when she saw the ghost of a naga float up from the skull. Hissing, fur standing on end, she crouched into a fighting position.
"It's alright Fluffy. Stupid is going to watch over the camp while we stay here." He motioned for her to jump into the wagon, and then climb up after her.
In the pitch dark wagon, when the necromacer began to enjoy his kitten; her loud cat-like screaming piercing his ears indicated that she was in terrible pain. Yet, she held on tightly. For some reason, this intensely excited the old man's primal desires.
When she had went out to wash afterwards, he wondered if he should have put the collar and leash back on her. Exhausted, he fell asleep before giving it a second thought. Only to be awakened by Fluffy, asking for more. After a third time, he had to refuse; falling asleep with her in his arms.

nice detail, carl.

I like the way this story is shaping out, keep up the good work. Your well on your way to making a great saga.

I'm glad that you're enjoying it. This beginning part is based on a style of Monster Rancher that I'd like to play.
It seems that most people who play this game are either too light hearted or too good natured to care about my dark ideas for MR3. At least by writing, I sort of get to play it out the way that I had imagined. J

Good job. I like "dark", too. I share your points
of view. I think it's brave to split yourself off
from the basic run-of-the-mill story of a main
character and his friends trying to kill one
person in power. GOod Job.