I sat there for a while, looking down at the blood-mixed water in front of me, knees to my chest. I’m not sure how much time had passed, my eyes staring uncomprehendingly…until eventually, those previous questions began to enter my mind, curiosity slowly overwhelming the horridness of my now-tortured existence. How had I become undead? More importantly, how had I even known what an undead was? I couldn’t remember…much of anything, before I woke up. The memories that I do have are a blurry mess, barely recognizable besides the occasional voice and word.

As time blurred by, I continued to think. As the revulsion slowly fell away, I began thinking of ways to salvage this situation. Sitting here wasn’t productive. I may be dead, but I don’t want to die a second time.

So, the first order of business was learning my limitations.

I turned towards myself, feeling for sensations inside my body, something that indicates how I am…animated. For a long time, I didn’t sense anything. I just felt…alive, somehow.

But eventually, I felt something.

It was slight, tiny really, but I felt an energy stretching from my chest, moving out and lining the inside of my body with miniscule tendrils. Looking closer and closer to the state of my form, I couldn’t help but be disappointed. The energy there was just so…tiny.

Eventually, I took a deep breath, even though I was sure I didn't need air anymore.

Time to do something about this shoddy situation.

I began to move. I felt the tiny tendrils of energy in my body strain with even the simplest of movements. I slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to lift myself off the ground. I tried to take a step, stumbled, and fell again, my face sticking into the mud.

I grit my teeth, and tried again.

After many tries, I managed to get myself to my feet, and started moving. I tried to walk, but only managed a slow shamble, essentially using my body weight and collapsing knees to move forward.

A grim smile managed to find itself on my face. Is this why all those zombies walk like that?

I continued to stagger forward, just barely avoiding falling over many times due to the mud, the bodies, and the still-pitiful amount of energy traveling through my body.

As I continued my walking-shamble, I realized the totality of the destruction on the battlefield. Bodies, in varying states of decay, were covered by even more bodies. The muddy ground bore no plants, and blood was almost as abundant as water for the soil to gather. Scavenging animals were all over the place, feasting on the rotting remains of what was once a large army’s worth of people.

I looked over at the corpses with an almost wistful feeling. If I had just stayed dead, maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about this. I wouldn’t have to feel the deep-seeded horror at my existence, the disgust over the fact that I was not quite alive, but not dead either. As I watch the corpses turn to carrion for the vultures and other creatures, I begin to think. I look down at my fingers, dully noticing the slightly blue tips that were there. I realized that I would start to decompose soon. I needed to find some way to hide my nature before then.

I sighed, continuing my shaky march through the corpses and destruction.

I heard a noise. More like a whine, really. Whimpering, pained noises coming from somewhere nearby. My back straightened and my senses sharpened. I felt the energy pulling my limbs start to curl and twist with anticipation, and I found myself walking towards the sound.

I rounded behind a corner, around a pile of corpses, with as much speed as my staggering form could muster.

Behind the corner was…a beast.

The wolf-like creature scratched against the mud, trying to pull itself along, only to be pulled back. Its hind leg was caught in what looked like a bear trap, the vicious edges of the trap grinding into its bones and making the creature whimper with pain.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

My heart reached out for the pitiful creature. I stumbled forward, getting near the beast…

The creature’s whimpers turned to a snarl as it leaped out at me with renewed vigor, its jaws almost reaching me before it seemed to snap back, its body halting as it reached the edge of the leeway that the trap had given it.

I stared at the pitiful beast. It had tried to attack me!

I took a step backward. Then I felt something. Something…stirring within me. A hunger. I wanted to kill this creature, to tear out its throat with my teeth, to feel its blood running out of it. I stared at the beast with bestial eyes of my own, a frighteningly strong urge to end the life of this insolent creature roaring through my mind.

I took a step forward, a snarl forming on my lips and a very inhuman growl escaping my throat. That thing needed to die. I almost stepped into the range for it to reach me, but then I stopped.

Whatever was happening…I didn’t like it.

I didn’t want to mindlessly kill, to rave and slaughter without remorse, despite what my brain was screaming at me. No. No. I will not kill without reason.

I frowned at myself as the bloodlust dulled and eventually ceased roaring in my ears. The disgust about my condition from before returned in full force.

Why had I even considered doing that? What was that ravenous, angry feeling?

More questions without answers, it seemed.

With a sigh, I relaxed my shoulders, feeling the tension release from my face. I looked back at the wolf, its pain-filled eyes glaring at me with hatred, fear and distrust.

If I managed to get behind it, maybe I could release it…? No, it would definitely try to kill me, even if I could get close enough to free it. I didn’t have any way to heal it, I had no supplies, even if I knew how to do any of that. My hand tightened on the strange dagger resting in my hand.

I looked at the problem from every angle. Ultimately, I reached a conclusion that I really, really didn’t want to reach.

The best thing was to kill this beast.

I couldn’t free it. I couldn’t nurse it back to health, and even if I did, it might still try to kill me. Leaving it to die on its own would be cruel.

It wasn’t the act itself that disgusted me. It seemed that my mind was well-adapted to killing, as long as it was necessary. It was how I felt about it that really brought my concern.

I was excited about ending a life.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that, but all the conclusions I reached weren’t good ones.

I steeled myself. I knew what I was going to do. Now, the question was how?

___________________________________________________________________________

I sat by the wolf for hours, the light in the sky- the sun, I thought to myself-fell, rose, then fell again. The entire time, I just watched the wolf as its strength and energy waned, until it eventually collapsed to rest. I hadn’t had to sleep the entire time, which I supposed was an advantage to being dead.

It was good to keep positive, in these situations.

Once I confirmed that the beast was properly at rest, I slowly snuck up to its side, dagger in hand. The beast’s breath came in deep, ragged gasps, its body heaving with the strain of keeping it alive. I pitied the wolf’s sorry state, and envied the fact that it, unlike me, was still fully alive. For a moment, I questioned why I hated being dead so much, but quickly banished the thought for a later time.

I continued to sneak up to the creature, my eyes looking for weak points. Ideally, I would be able to kill it in one strike, but with the weak state of the strange energy animating my body, I somehow doubted that that would happen.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I raised the dagger up above me, hoping to push as much of my weight and gravity into the strike, and aimed for the beast’s eye. And, with a moment of deliberation, I struck down.

Bliss.

Pure euphoria wracked my body, my soul, as I felt energy pouring through the wound I had placed in the monster’s eye. It pervated every sense, a blast of power that was both refreshing and comforting, cold and warm, wonderful and terrible. It felt like moonlight, like the scent of blood and forest, like howling with abandon and fighting for every scrap, of feeling freer than anything else in this world or the next.

The energy seeped into my body, the tendrils of energy throughout it greedily seeping up the energy, filling my mind and body with a sensation of cold, pure power. Taking a life has never felt so wonderful, and its life force fed me in a way that I never had experienced before.

I could never have enough of this. This, this is my salvation, the solace in the horrors I have experienced in my short time of existing.