The Dead Won't Die

The winter days are beginning to lengthen, heralding the approach of the coming of spring. But, here in the northern lands, winter still has the lands locked in its icy grip. Andromeda is out in the forest that the Armada has laid claim to, softly padding through the fresh powder that the night brought them. In the morning light, the snow sparkles like millions of tiny diamonds; the powder catches the sunlight that finds its way down to it and throws small rainbows every which way. The air is still, as if the storm that had blown through sapped all of the wind’s energy. Scents linger, overlapping and muddying the air with their heavy aromas.

Prey animals tracks weave in and out of the forest, their passing marked by a trampled snow and patched of fur rubbed into the bark of several trees. The girl’s pale blue eyes even spy some scratches where elk have rubbed their itchy antlers against the trees. Eyes scan the world around her as she walks, ever vigilant of danger while also enjoying the sights and sounds that come after a sudden snow storm. Andy has been growing in a thicker, double coat so the chill of winter air does not bother her like it once did. The crunching of nearby snow draws the lavender girl’s attention to it and she turns to try and spy one the elk that have been grazing nearby.

Muscles lock as, instead of finding a beautiful, majestic beast, an absolute horror stands illuminated in a shaft of sunlight. What once was a polar bear sags sideways, large, open, infected wound leak blood and puss from its face and left side. Its head is turned away from her, its mouth hangs agape as it huffs great, heaving breathes that causes steam to fill the air. However, the wounds are not the worst part because, when the beast does turn its head toward her, Andy finds that the eye that had been facing away from her is hanging down below the cheek. The tendons keep it attached to the socket. By all rights, this horror show of a creature should be dead but, by perhaps sheer will, it is alive and lumbering in this forest.

It’s one good eye locks onto Andromeda and the pup feels her heart drop down into her toes. Its mouth opens further and a loud guttural roar, filled with pain and anger, rents the quiet of the winter morning air. The girl’s heart thunders hard against her ribs as the bear then begins to stumble toward her. Suddenly, a gentle breeze picks up, pushing the dying creature’s smells toward her and the pup almost doubles over to vomit up her breakfast into the snow. Her brain doesn’t even know how to register the smell of the infection, coupled with dead and dying tissue.

In the very back of her mind, the word ‘death’ leaps up and she realizes that it what she is smelling; death. The beast has become an unstoppable force now that it has moved into a lurching run. Andy’s brain screams at her to run, to fight, to do anything but stand still. However, terror has rooted the girl into place and her attention is locked onto that dead, swinging eyeball. Nausea rises as it approaches, bring the smell of death with it. The beast seeks to take its anger out on the lavender pup and she is unable to do anything… but watch.


"Andromeda Fatalis"