Death Becomes Her

by daOtterGuy

Spread

Somnambula stared out across the battlefield. Ponies, both allies and enemies alike, appeared to move in slow motion. Weapons cut into flesh. Gore and blood splattered and spurt in a graphic display that could be considered artistic. She had never expected to feel so disjointed from what happened around her.

It was horrible, but what made it tragic was how one-sided the battle was. Her people mercilessly slaughtered the enemy, their blood dying the sands red. Her forces had suffered few, if any, casualties. The military of her home were strong and honed warriors. Their enemy was… emancipated.

They had come to call them Corpse Walkers. The ponies that charged helplessly against the blades of her people were barely ponies at all. Fur all but fallen out, skin taut against bone. Ghastly, skeletal specters with pink-tinged eyes that wept openly as they met their demise on the end of steel.

The plague had ravaged them, leaving behind only a desperate need to find a cure that didn’t exist.

She turned away from the battlefield and to the dying soldier cradled in her hooves. One of the Corpse Walkers. Blood from the pony’s wounds stained her fur as the soldier looked up at her, tears in their eyes.

They were mouthing words too quiet for her to hear. She leaned down to better catch the sound.

“—Shouldn’t have come. We’ve—” A ragged breath “—doomed you. It’s here now. We did what it wanted. I’m so…”

A final pained wheeze. Somnambula gently let the soldier’s head fall to the sand. She looked out at the battlefield once more. New information allowed her to peel back the horror and see this event for what it was.

It was not a war. It was an epidemic.

She looked up at the sky. Tears fell from her eyes. She prayed, hoping against logic that her people will survive the coming storm that had been inflicted upon them.