But this very nonsense had chased her from her home. Poor dead Baker and the others had faced her across an open grave in Edgemont’s cemetery, with a mob behind them, pitchforks and torches in the hands of people she’d known all her life. People she’d only wanted to help.

Admittedly, she’d tried to help by raising the dead to fight on the town’s behalf. In her travels since, she’d learned that certain kinds of people could not accept certain kinds of help. She would make different choices now.

— Dead Country by Max Gladstone (Page 36)