Crows cawed to one another, letting the others know that the feast had begun once again. Carrion and bone were revealed as bits of flesh were torn away from the now decaying bodies. Blood had caked and dried on their corpses; the smell of rot and death hung heavily in the air. Eyes ripped out, fingers torn away from their bonny holds. Cartilage a delicacy among those who ate, and yet it all seemed silent to those who sat and watched; nothing better to do then to throw a rock or two every now and then at the hungry carnivores. An eery calm hung over those who sat their, days after the carnage that was a Spartan’s wrath. A smallish pony with a green mane and tail, maybe a year or two over 20 sat on the edge, a bandage over his eye and a long star piercing the heavy air in front of him for what seemed like thousands of miles. A pony or two sat around him; he paid them no mind. All he could think about were the names of the ponies who laid underneath the fresh meat. Quietly, he spoke, seemingly to no one.
“Green Leaf, Arrowhead, Boulder Bouncer. Names lost to time.” He went quiet again, the ponies around him noticing he had spoken. Some approached but said nothing, wanting to see if he would speak again. Indeed he did.
“You know...they’ll build a monument here, or somewhere in Equestria. When were gone and dead. Like these guys in front of us.” he motioned softly with a hoof towards the crows and corpses. Some sat next to him, looking forward as he was taken up in their own thoughts.
“They’ll build a monument to the war, but we’ll be forgotten. We’ll die here, fighting and dieing for others. They’ll never know us; our names, what we looked like, what books we liked to read or if we even liked to read at all. We will fade, become forgotten.Forgotten in this sound….this sound of silence that hangs over us.”