Scent

The mud smears under my feet, the rain trickling onto my tangled head of hair. Slowly it drips onto my face, filling my nose with the stench of the battlefield before me. A part of me pretends the rain to be my own tears, yet all I can really think about is the mulititudes of corpses that lay spread about. I cannot discern any wounds that could cause so many deaths, yet the look on their face remains the same: In pain. The rain brings up the smell of the rotting flesh into the air, and quickly it circles me. I can't help but to run from it, in hopes to find another survivor.

My toes greet the mud with ferocity as I frantically search, yet find none. I suppress the urge to vomit from the scene. Bodies beyond count, each with a blonde head of hair, each rotting now with nobody to bury them. I cannot even discern which side was which. Which was the Controller, and which the Survivor.
Subtlely, however, I picked up something else. A different scent not from corpses or filth, yet unsure of what. I followed it with much haste, hope once again surging through my veins. I stopped to find myself at a door, it's massive size intimidating at the sight. The scent was just on the other side, however, and to be this close brought me such unfounded joy.
I bursted through the door, falling onto my face. Yet not onto the wretched mud, but onto a patch of grass. The sunlight streamed my eyes into a blind stupor. Two pairs of hands reached towards me, and at first I felt a twinge of fear. When they instead hoisted me up, any fear had immediately dissipated. I embraced each figure, inhaling the life around them. Hope's surge found its way once more, but I did not feel pain from it. I found myself smiling at it all. Smiling that My War was over. Smiling that I can simply smile. Smiling, that I had won.