She sat there, crying.

She always cried, except during the day. In the day, she wandered around. The nights, she would spend crying. Why she cried, she didn't know, nor did she care.

She didn't have a name, but the occasional human who came across her just called her “Witch.” That is, until she got angry. They always made her angry, and it always ended badly for them.

Witch had a few things that made her stand out from the rest of the horde. Sure, she was thin and pale skinned like the other witches, and she wore nothing but the remains of a white tank top and panties just like the other witches, but what set her apart from the others was that she had a red streak running through her greyed hair, and she had a slightly more muscular build.

Right now, Witch was sitting on the roof of some building, away from the horde, just how she liked it.

She didn't like being with the rest of the horde. They made too much noise and were too stupid for her taste.

She was smarter than the others, and they knew it. Whenever they caught something, they always left her little in scraps, but she didn’t mind. She didn't eat that much anyway, so it didn't bother her.

There was a creaking as the door to the roof slowly opened, and something stepped through it. Why couldn't humans just leave her alone? All she wanted to do was just sit there and cry, but they keep trying to kill her! Why?

"Shhh! I hear a witch."

Witch listened to them clicking their torches off. They were smart enough to leave her be, so she was more than happy to return the favor.

You see, Witch hated the light. It burned her eyes, and she didn't like it one bit, so if one of them had shone their lights at her, she wouldn't have thought twice before ripping them limb from limb.

She knew they were trying to get to the shoddily made bridge to the next building. As long as they didn't disturb her, she would let them pass.

"Oh shit!"

A torch rolled into view with its lens facing her. It wouldn’t have been a problem, had the motion not turned it on.

The beam of light burned her eyes and made her jump up, screaming.

"Witch's angry! Witch's angry!"

She turned to the "survivors," arms and claws out. There were four of them. They were all armed with shotguns, and each looked like they had been through hell.

Witch screamed again and charged at the nearest one: a large, black, bearded man. She tackled him to the ground and began slashing at his chest. She found that her claws met not flesh, but some sort of hard stuff that she couldn't get through.

One of the man's friends knocked her off and sent her rolling away. Witch got back up and tried to jump back on the downed man. She got within arm's reach before one of his companions shoved her away.

After that, they began shooting her repeatedly, knocking the screaming witch back further and further.

"Throwing Molotov!"

The liquid spread across her body and was subsequently set alight by the burning rag. She screamed as she was both burned and shot.

She tried to lunge forward again, but the sheer number of bullets being fired at her was just too much.

With one final shotgun blast, she was sent tumbling off the edge of the building, towards the ground below.

"I think she's coming around."

"Are you sure this is going to hold it?"

"I'm sure."

Witch heard voices again. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

She opened her red eyes and rose into a slouch. She was in a cage. The area was dimly lit, though not enough so as to impede her vision. There were figures walking around outside.

The room had no windows of any kind, and the only entrance was a small door on the far side. As her eyes adjusted to the low lighting, Witch saw that small, horse-like creatures were scurrying around, many holding odd things in their hooves or mouths.

Witch tried to recall how she knew what they looked like. She was a lot smarter than most of her kind, but, just like the others, she had little memory as to what she was before. There was the odd flash from her past, but nothing concrete. She didn't even know why she cried.

Four of the creatures stood in front of her cage, staring at her. Witch growled at them in a futile attempt to make them leave her alone.

These four were taller than the others, and each had a horn, as well as a pair of wings. Witch knew they were wings, because she had seen them on the many birds that she had caught for food.

The tallest one bent down close to the cage and stared into her eyes. "I am Princess Celestia. Don't be afraid. We're here to help you."

Witch growled at the creature before burying her face into her hands, sobbing. The creature, this "Celestia," looked at her, concerned, and stepped closer to the cage, only to leap back when Witch slammed herself against the cage wall, growling.

One of the others rushed to Celestia's side. "Are you alright, sister?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, Luna. She just startled me." She stood up straight and stared Witch in the eye. "I think we've picked a worthy candidate."

Celestia called over one of the smaller creatures. "Start the treatments. I'll oversee the project myself." She looked back at Witch. "Also, get some more guards down here. I don't want a repeat of last time."

Witch was glaring at the white creature with crimson eyes of hatred when something slammed into her back, knocking her forward. She heard the gate to her cage grinding open as she lost consciousness.

Author's Note

I got the idea for this from a shot comic strip I read a while ago and decided to give it a try.
I would really appreciate it if you could comment on what I can improve and what the next chapter should be.
I hope you enjoy