I stared down at one of the many corpses littering the field of battle. Unlike many of the others, this one still breathed, and it sent flashes of its lost life out from its mind in agony, as though seeking a final someone to listen to its story, just as the other breathing corpses did. A few cried for help, but I ignored those, for they might still be saved.
Even now, despite soldiers picking the corpses of comrade and enemy alike, there were white-clad, blood-spattered ones who walked between and sent the lessers, in grey, to pull the barely-living to white tents.
My attention rested on these white intruders only a moment before I squatted down beside the chosen one I attended. It was a farmer. Its shoulders were still narrow with youth, and it snarled at the ground as it gripped tightly at the blood-muddied turf. It gasped through clenched teeth as its fingernails drew ragged lines.
An image assaulted my mind, and nearly sent me onto my rear. The face of another, a smaller and different one. I could make out every detail, as though the one had memorized the other.
The small one had pale red hair that it compared to a “peach” fruit, which to the corpse’s mind was a delicious and juicy, soft-fleshed sweet food the corpse’s family grew. The small one had eyes that the corpse saw “blueberries” in, the same it enjoyed as pie, and the little one’s skin, dark and flecked, was like a “cake”, sweet and soft.
The dead thing’s feelings toward the tiny one’s image was the same as a parent felt for its young, but also a a mate felt for its other. I shook my head and stared down at the raggedly-panting corpse. Its eyes did not see anymore. I couldn’t see its wounds, but I knew it was already claimed. No matter what the white ones did, this one was death’s, and though it still struggled to hold on, it was slowly pulled to the void regardless.
Corpses never went willingly.
A sudden image invaded my mind, brought on by the corpse, whose mind somehow remained strong. This image was filled with faceless soldiers, who it called its enemies. Its hate for these soldiers as they swarmed the image of the small one from before was enough to make me dizzy.
Another assault sent me reeling. The corpse dug its hands into the mud and pushed against the ground. Its body lifted, and for a moment, its eyes caught mine. Several in white ran over, but as their time moved more slowly than mine, I knew they would not arrive. Even as they raised their feet, I saw my corpse’s insides slide out of its belly, and a reopened wound gushed fresh blood.
My corpse screamed. Its voice was hoarse as it screamed the name of the small one. Its head snapped back, and it began to cough, blood erupting from its mouth. My corpse’s death was coming faster. I licked my lips. The light was fading now that what belonged inside leaked rapidly out, and as the light faded from its eyes, I took my chance, and I pushed my tongue into the corpse’s mouth. My tongue slid down its throat, and I could feel it weakly trying to reject me. My tongue went in and in, piercing and cutting.
I touched my creature’s heart, and it barely beat anymore. The ones in white were coming. I wrapped my tongue around the heart and slowly pulled. It caught and caught as I pulled at it, eager to feast, to steal its knowledge and will and magic for my Master. I pulled my lips from the suffocating corpse, which vomited weakly as I yanked its heart out its throat. The corpse collapsed, and I sank my teeth into the tough muscle I had stolen from it.
My flesh suddenly parted, and my pack arched. Cold ice jerked itself around inside of me, and then I heard a voice. “Damn thing. It’s a necromancer’s get.” The voice, I knew it. My vision faded, and the wind cut through me as I felt my form tear apart around what must have been a blade.