Season of the Dead 2
In a certain town, things were going normally. It was a foggy morning, but they didn't let that stop them. They still went about their business as normal. It was thick, but they had encountered fog before. By noon, as the fog still hung in the air, they began to worry. It showed no sign of dispersing; if anything it only got thicker.
Then the coughing started.
It started small, just a few people here and there.
But it spread like a plague. Before long, everyone in the town was coughing, some just a little every now and then, but others, the old, weak, and sick, were coughing up blood. By night they realized the danger of the fog, but it was too late, all they could do was stay inside and board up their doors, hoping to keep the deadly smog out.
Some had ventured out, seeking help, or just to escape. The problem was that few in the town had vehicles or even horses. Escape just wasn't an option for them. All they could do was ride out the storm and hope it would pass.
Many cursed the big city for this, figuring that this smog was a result of pollution from the urban centers they sought to avoid. They thought that even here, in the heart of nature, they were not free from the corrupting touch of man.
Then they heard it.
The sound of hooves clapping against the hard ground. It was a slow, methodical pace. The pace of a horse taking its time, one in no hurry. They had thought all had long since left, so a curious few looked out their windows and doors to see who was riding through.
And so it was, to their horror, that they found two sets of burning red eyes looking back.
It was here they realized that there was no escape, there was no "riding through the storm", for death itself had rode into town, and it was here for all of them.
Black smoke poured from the horse's mouth of the Grimm, mixing with it's poisonous fog, increasing the density of it in the area to unbearable levels. By now the once light grey fog had turned dark and smokey. In this dark fog it's eyes shone like malevolent beacons, spreading fear and despair to all who looked upon it.
And the Grimm itself felt satisfied, taking in the darkness pouring out of all the humans in the town. All of them filled with such fear and despair, and all of it feeding it. Soon they would die, and it would reap all of their souls, consuming them for its own power.
I suppose it's unfortunate, however It thought, considering the being on it's back
It would have been nice to take her to mother while she still maintained her un-life It all but sighed.
It turned to glance at the dead girl, taking her extended period of silence as a sign that she had perished under the effects of its poisonous breath.
So it was that it's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise from what it saw.
She was fine.
The girl was fine.
Instead of being fearful, confused, or even having the slightest cough, she was looking around the town with wonder and awe in her eyes.
How is it not killing her? It wondered, It should have destroyed her lungs by now
That's when it noticed something, something it should have realised before.
She wasn't breathing.
She was already dead, reanimated through some unknown means, and as such had no need for mortal things like food, water, and even air. As such, it's likely the case she didn't have any of it's smoke in her lungs, it's like she doesn't even really need lungs at all.
So while humans all around her choked and died on the breath of death, she sat happily upon its back, taking it all in, her chest still and lifeless.
Before it had a chance to think further on the matter, it noticed something moving in the fog in front of it. Turning it's human torso to attend to the incoming matter, it saw four humans walk out of the fog, each of them wearing something around their mouth to try and block out the fog, either but each of them impromptu and ineffective, such as a bandanna or welder's helmet.
In each of their hands was a weapon. One was a woman with a short bow, another was a man with a longsword, a woman a spear, and finally the last one was a man that held a rifle, ammo packs strapped all over his heavy jacket.
It almost smiled, letting out a quiet raspy sound that one might call a chuckle
This was what they had to defend the town? These are the only ones in the town that held enough fire in their gut to fight it?
They don't even have aura It thought, amused at their attempt.
Still, it had to respect their willingness to stare death in the face and fight back. As weak as they were, these humans were wolves, not sheep like the rest of their town. They would die on their feet, fighting to their last breath.
The rifleman and the bow woman both ran to the sides, flanking it as they hid inside abandoned buildings. The other two faced it, the spear woman and the swordsman charging at it.
The swordsman reached it first, and slung his blade at the legs of the beast before him. At the same time the spear woman attacked it's flank, trying to disable its other leg.
In a flash of movement, however, a cry rang out and blood soared through the clogged air.
Looking over in fear, the woman saw, to her horror, that the swordsman had fallen to the ground, his chest cut in half from the hip to the shoulder. Sliced open like a pig, his organs and blood poured out onto the ground, mixing with the dirt into a bloody mud. The Grimm held some kind of spear made of what looked like bone in one of its hands.
Turning it's burning gaze upon her, the woman could see the end of the spear growing further, curving like a claw, and turning it into some kind of scythe made of bone. Releasing the spear from her grip from shock and fear, she idly noticed that it was stuck in the hide of the Grimm, not that it seemed to really notice.
She barely had time to blink, to say a silent prayer, before her own life was ended. Her head rolled to the ground not a moment later, shortly joined by the rest of her body falling beside it.
The Nuckelavee's victory was short lived, and a shot rang out, and a bullet shattered against it's skull. It turned to look at the source, a store across the ways from it, only to get another bullet slamming into it's armored head. Now mostly irritated, it threw the makeshift scythe at the building.
The massive bone scythe crashed into the building, slicing through walls and columns with ease, causing the whole structure to collapse. While they man might not be dead, he was likely now in no condition to fight back. Besides, the smog would take him soon enough.
It was pulled from those thoughts when it felt a sharp pain in it's upper back, between its shoulder blades. All in all, it felt little worse than a bug bite, but it was still an annoyance.
Turning it's head to look in the direction the pain had come from, it saw another arrow flying at it. Instead of hitting the Grimm again, the arrow struck low, piercing through the body of the silver eyed girl on his back. The girl let out a gasp of pain, before falling off it's back and hitting the ground.
Now rather annoyed that its passenger had been struck, it ended the archer quickly and dismissively.
It raised its arm, pointing its wrist at her as she readied another arrow. Before she could launch it at it, a small bone spike, the size of a shortsword, was launched out of its wrist at such blinding speeds that it flew through the air and impaled the woman through the heart.
With that taken care of, it directed its attention back to its passenger. The girl was on the ground, looking at the arrow in her chest in surprise and pain, blood pouring from her mouth. The Nuckelavee was curious how her status as being dead would affect whether she would live. The arrow was lodged in the area her heart would be, if she was a normal girl she would be dead. But seeing as how she was handling its deadly breath just fine, it's possible it was little more than a flesh wound to her.
Its attention was once more stolen by several gunshots impacting it's back.
Not dead after all, I see It thought, turning to face it's assailant.
But the rifleman ran past it, instead scooping up the girl in his arms and trying to run away, likely in some bid to save her from it.
The man didn't make it far before the Ancient Grimm sliced his back upon with another blade grown from its own bones. He made it several more steps, before collapsing to the ground in agony. Blood poured from his back as a fit of coughs erupted from his mouth. In his death throes, he rolled onto his back, releasing the girl from his grip.
He had fought hard, and he had given it his all, but he would still die all the same. Still, it was enough to earn a modicum of respect from the Grimm, something most humans didn't think it had. So the old rider moved to give the man a swift end, when something strange happened.
The girl, the one he had tried to save, the one that had been shot in the chest by an arrow, the one that was dead and yet not, she made a move.
She stumbled over to him, crawling over his chest, compelled by some unknown desire.
The girl, for her part, felt driven by a hunger. Something she can't truly remember feeling. She didn't know how to express it in words, but she could feel the calling, she could sense what it was telling her to do, she could sense what she need to do to feed the cold hunger within her.
The man was on the edge of life, his time as come and he had minutes left at best. He looked up to the smog filled sky, so dark it might have been night, and despaired. Then he spotted that pair of small silver eyes looking down at him. The orbs seemed like the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, though it's probably just trick of his dying brain.
The way they seemed to glow in the dusky light, the way they seemed to call to his soul, it had to be a trick.
And yet, the Nuckelavee saw a light, glowing, wispy, smoke-like thing flow from the mouth and eyes of the dying man and into the girl's. Her eyes shone with an ethereal power as it happened. All the while it knew what she was doing, but could scarcely believe it.
She was consuming the man's soul.
Something no human should be able to do.
And yet, when she was done, the man's head fell to the ground, his eyes looking absently with no life remaining in him. His soul was gone and he was dead. Looking at the girl herself, she seemed to radiate for a moment, her own spirit growing in power. The arrow lodged in her chest was pushed out and replaced with healed flesh. The girl looked up at it with a satisfied smile, not at all put off by what she had done.
...why is she not disturbed by this? Most humans would find all this quite distressing. It wondered idly.
In truth, the girl had no reason to be frightened. Logically, yes, most humans should have a reason to panic, to be afraid.
But she was reborn in death. The very first thing she saw in her new life was her mother dying before her. She awoke in a land of death. Death has been more of a companion to her than life. And humans? She felt no special attachment to them, not so much that watching the Grimm kill them made her feel distressed.
As far as she could tell, this was normal, and this was right.
She had latched on to the Nuckelavee, and for the time being, it was her guiding her light. Something that would only grow as time went on.
Shortly thereafter, the Ancient Grimm left the town. The girl resting on its back. For some reason, consuming the soul had cause her to feel tired again, prompting her to rest as soon as she got situated on it's back. Her small and frail arms were wrapped around it's waist to keep her secured. As her sleeping form hugged it tight to herself, the Nuckelavee considered what this all meant.
The girl was far more interesting than it had thought. A strange new thing it had never encountered before, a mystery waiting to be unraveled, things few and far between for something as old and experienced as it.
Ruby It though, looking back at her.
I believe that's what she said her name was. I ought to remember that. It considered. I'm confident I know what mother meant, now.
Because this young girl most definitely has a Special Spark.
A/n: I kinda forgot to post this. So now we're going on a monthly basis. Yay.