The cold bit into him as he raced uphill past thick copses of icy pines weighed down by blocks of ice. Snow piled up to his chest as he plowed through, desperation and hope pushing him onward as he carved trenches into the pure white field. A blizzard raged with a torrent of snow and wind, stinging the exposed parts of his body through his heavy winter attire.
He kept his wings firmly affixed to his side, a liability in the raging winds that would send him careening back down the hillside should the wind catch them. Frost coated him in a layer of ice as he continued his climb, abandoning his want to return to the relative safety of the walled Canterlot community. It was far too late to turn back anyways. He was in the foothills of Vanhoover and returning would be pointless without finding his quarry.
Foalhood promises of meeting at the cabin in the pines outside Vanhoover should a crisis ever arise. Made when they were younger, but he needed to believe that they still held even in adulthood. Love sustained him through this horrid winter, allowing him to fight past the monsters that roamed Equestria.
As his Captain had said the day he told him that he needed to leave for Vanhoover, what better motivation was there, but that of the heart?
A wooden structure appeared in the distance, worn logs stacked atop each other amongst an open clearing. Through a glass window, a lantern burned brightly illuminating the path to the cabin in a warm ethereal glow through the flurries of snow.
Relief and joy flooded him as he mustered the last of his strength to gallop to the door, bursting into the cabin with glee.
Surveying the living area, he took in the massive woven rug before the fireplace. A weak fire blazed within flooding the homestead with warmth. The lantern he had seen before was placed on a dining room table pushed up against the front-facing window alongside several wooden chairs.
Removing his clothes and discarding them onto a nearby stand, he moved towards the fireplace, warming himself before the flames. Once the worst of the chill had left him, he ventured further into the cabin.
“Seafoam?” He called out. “Seafoam, are you here?”
A groaning sound emanated from a room down an adjoining hall. Racing toward the source, he found himself before a solid door that, according to his memory, led to the master bedroom.
He swung open the door and entered the dark room. “Seafoam?” He called out again, stepping into the room slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust.
Another groan answered him, emanating from the bed that he could barely make out in the dim lighting spilling from the hall. He spied a shock of teal blue mane peeking from the covers. Recognition caused him to move quickly as he reached forward and pulled back the bed sheets with a wing.
“Seafoam! I’m so glad—”
In mere moments, any joy he felt at the reveal of his beloved died. Resting in the bed, back to him, was a dark blue pegasus with a teal mane and cutie mark of seaspray. But his fur was paler than his memory, mane paler still as if the colour was slowly draining from his body.
Seafoam’s head turned to him at an unnatural angle. The fur of his face was translucent, the skull underneath peeking through. He was too late. His foalhood love was just another one of those monsters now.
“No, no, no, no!” He cried out, stumbling away from Seafoam.
The newly undead arose from his bed, tripping over the sheets and landing with half his body splayed out on the floor. He groaned as he lay there, not dead long enough to have recovered his motor function.
New tears sprung from his eyes as his resolve hardened. Though he was too late to be there for him when he was still a pony, he would do what he needed to now before his beloved Seafoam could become like the monsters outside.
He withdrew a knife that he had tucked under his left wing. In a single fluid motion, his mind blank, he killed Seafoam. He stared at the corpse as it gave its last breaths, leaving this place and joining the many in the plains beyond.
Emotionally spent, he collapsed to the ground and sobbed, his tears flowing freely down as he mourned the loss of the stallion he loved. As he did, the bedroom window burst, letting the cold penetrate into the cabin. It chilled him in place, freezing the tears on his face instantly into a permanent trail.
Ice burrowed into him, heightening his grief. What was the point in continuing? What was there left for him without the one who made it worth suffering through?
The cold bled deep into him, grasping his heart as it began to freeze solid. Numbness coursed through his veins as the snow became nothing more than the vaguest hint of feeling. He watched as his own fur began to desaturate, vibrant orange becoming a duller yellow. He was changing. It was over for him. But, despite the chill, a warm core of emotion stayed within him.
Even though he was to become a zombie, at least he would be there with his beloved.