I told them. I told them that winter would bring the Dead, but did they listen? No. They relied too much on magic and conmen to listen to a farmer whose family lived through this shit before.

When my grandda was seven, I told them, the Dead walked. The blizzard of 358 decimated the land, killed a lot of livestock, and killed everyone who was caught out of the bonfire circle. And then, those what died came back to slaughter their old friends, whose bodies rose and killed yet more people!

'Loony old man,' they called me. 'Lost his mind years ago and doesn't know what he's talking about.'

When the Dead walked again, last night on the Winter Solstice, I was home safe in my circle of fire, with my daughter and her baby. We kept the fires burning all night, and when dawn came, we watched the Dead die again.

You should have listened to me. A few did, and they emerged from the flames with us, seeing the world changed this night. But the rest of you?

An entire town, rotting and bloating in the cool winter sun. We can't bury all of you, and to be frank, I don't want to bury any of you.

We still have the fires burning, just in case. If the Dead stay down again tonight, we'll burn your bodies tomorrow.

It's the funeral you fools deserve.