So close the spotted stallion got before realizing his mistake, Crake did little to chase him but took a quick step forward so that his gurgling laugh and the flying chunks of you-don’t-wanna-know flew out in his direction. “No need to be rude.” He croaked out towards the retreating figure in his mutilated voice, bogged down by the thick black phlegm growing in his throat. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

More were coming, drawn by the darkness or the eerie light, and there was one that yelled out in familiarity. Removing his eye from the larger stallion he focused on the colt, twisting his neck unnaturally to get a good look. “Do I know you?” The name of the colt was flickering on the outer edges of his consciousness but it was eluding him, like the name of this land. Memories from a former life that hardly seemed important in that moment.

He moved to approach the colt but suddenly someone else was there. Someone who didn’t feel like hanging back. Defense did not seem to be important and Crake allowed the horn scraped his side, peeling back rotten flesh and allowing black ooze to seep out of the wound, mixing with blood.

He felt nothing.

For a moment he just turned to look at it and wondered if he should, if there should be pain associated with it, but the thought was gone as he reacted. He was no slow-moving zombie, though he certainly preferred to take his time usually, and in a swirl of black dust he turned after the brown stallion and with a snarl reached out to grab hold of anything he could with his rotting teeth – even just to scrape a layer of skin off of his back or hindquarters. He felt a couple of the worse-off ones splinter and fall out from the action. He hardly needed to do considerable damage, just enough to share what he had brought.

Again that sickly laughter rose up before his voice thundered at those that had gathered – another had joined them though he seemed less inclined to charge into the fray like the one had. He was shorter than most here, barely a yearling, but his voice and his presence swelled - that haze condensing around him. No, there was nothing youthful about him now. “YOUR HOME IS IT? This is my home. I am PESTILENCE and DEATH and you... are pathetic. But you could be so much more.” Funny how he remembered not considering it home before this very moment. But if someone was willing to attack him and his companion for it, it must be worth a little something. Lowering his voice again he coughed up more words accompanied by a smirk. “You’re all welcome to stay, provided you evolve.” His state of mind made him reckless, uncaring about the fact that it was him and a rotting mare against a group. Well, sort of – only one of them seemed remotely interested in defending their home.

That single working, dark eye found the colt again. “It won’t hurt.” The lie was choked out and with its punctuation he advanced towards the others now, his sick sister joining him, forgetting the stallion that had attacked him and focusing on the other three. The first few steps were taken slowly as he got used to the movement with the new gash in his side – that sulphurous cloud falling in behind him – before they lunged after them.

Crake, or the creature that was Crake, cackled manically as he focused his attention on Sacre – his rotting teeth once again snapping but this time the aim was more for the nose, the ears, the flesh on the inside of his neck, anything sweet and tender. Something easy to bite into and infect.

The girl went for the chestnut, the one who stood by, using her glowing horn to feign a stab before rearing at him – striking out with her hooves. Her fury flashing with her sharpened teeth, a promise of what was to come. They had a gift to share, and no one would be exempt.