Troy lay upon his back, making quick, panicked breaths while the knife in his chest, delivered by the one he loved, allowed his blood to spill on the holy tiles.
Sister Florence, or whoever the monster was that wore her face, looked down at the dying stag and watched him. Other than the fact that she had plunged the knife into his chest, the doe before him looked almost completely different in the light, weather resistant coat instead of the normal robes that he was so familiar with. “Now… be a good boy and tell me who hired Glasglow’s gang to dispose of the body?”
With his hooves over the opening in his flesh, Troy whimpered, “I… I don’t know! I just watched the road in case cops showed up… I don’t know! Oh, oh Shiya I can’t die in Temple, please I can’t!”
Acting in the cold opposite of the normal warmth the old Kasha would be, Sister Florence’s rack lit up and slowly began to pull the knife out from Troy’s chest, just enough to make his body jolt around in electric pain, “Tell me who hired you to dispose of Melody Stanza’s body and you won’t.”
The Stag coughed out blood began to whimper once more, “Okay… it was...a pony! Yeah!”
“Don’t lie to me, Troy.” Another serrated tooth from the knife rose from his chest.
“Ah! He didn’t have a horn… he was red, and had a white mane! Please stop!”
“Hmmm...” Sister Florence hummed, “did he look like...” from her large rack atop her head, the old doe had a green aura pass over her. When it passed, the pony who Troy had seen meet his half cousin ,Glasglow, and their gang of thugs two days ago with a bag of cash, was standing in her place. “This?”
“Yeah… What the hell are you!?”
“Uninteresting,” the shapeshifting thing said. “What else do you know?”
“He said that we needed to hang tight… because he was going to come back with instructions for a second body. That’s all I know! Help me!”
The thing that had once been a doe, but now was a red pony, kept thinking to himself but spoke aloud, “hmmm…. Bullseye… makes sense.” He turned to his dying hostage, “Thank you, this has been very enlightening. I highly suggest you to consider a career change, you’re too nice to be in this business.”
The pony set a hoof on the stag’s neck, and then used his mouth to pull the knife free from the stag’s chest. Troy cried out with enough volume to rival that of the temple’s golden bells above. He was so focused on the intense pain and free flowing blood from his chest that he did not feel a package of bandages being dropped onto his stomach.
He used his legs and covered the opening, trying so very desperately to stay alive. He didn’t want to die in the temple; that was the very worst place to perish. Anywhere except for the house of salvation.
He turned over to his front and watched in a shocking betrayal as the pony/stag thing walked away from him, “Wait!” he called out, “I told you everything! Help me! you promised! Please, I can’t die in Temple!"
The Doors to St. Gaal’s Cathedral opened, and the pony stood in the doorway as the light from the streetlamps lit the area around it. “Start Crawling.” It said.
The same glow that turned him from Sister Florence to the pony who paid his friends to dispose of a body came again, this time turning him into a yellow mare with a red raincoat.
“Auf weidersehen!”