A Copper Foal in a White Winter
A story for the Fluffy Community by DarrolLayman
Author’s Note
I’d just like to point out that this is a rewrite of my first ever for Fluffybooru. If the page was still active, I’d retrieve the link myself, but it’s not, so this is the best I can do. Let me know what you think. Constructive Criticism is more than welcome, so please don’t be that guy.
Day 1 - The Beginning
If there was one thing you remember from the day you were born, it was the chill in the air. That cold seemed to seep right down to your little bones, prompting you to announce your arrival to the world with your chirps. You were born into this world a newborn male alicorn with a reddish-brown copper toned coat, a runt no less, an exceptionally rare occurence in the wild. Since you were fairly new, however, your eyes weren’t quite ready to open yet. Having said that, you had to rely on your hearing to navigate your environment. For a runt spending its first few minutes in the living world, you were quite strong and resilient. Among the first few things you heard were the lively chirps of your siblings and the loving coos of your mother welcoming you into this world.
“Mummah wuv babbehs…”
As her tongue drags across your back, wiping you clean of placenta and filling your heart with contentment, you hear a blood-curdling shriek of terror from another fluffy.
“M-munstah babbeh! Mus giv foweva sweepies!”
It was almost unfair. You haven’t been in this world not even 5 minutes and someone’s already trying to take you out of it. You curl yourself up into a ball, bracing yourself for the oncoming blows when you hear a voice cry out.
“Nu, speshul fwend! Dis gud babbeh! Mummah pwomise!”
You relax just a tad, listening to the conversation between your mother and what you could only assume was your father.
“Weww…fwuffy nu know…is mummah suwe?”
“Yes, siwwy daddeh. Dis babbeh nu poopie munstah babbeh. Dis babbeh gud babbeh.”
“Otay, mummah. Daddeh convinced.”
As you feel another massive fluffy warmth envelop you, you sigh with relief. That was close. Not even 5 minutes into life and you got your first glimpse of how cruel reality could be. Your eyes aren’t even open yet and you could see that much. Get ready, kid, because things are about to get much, much worse.
Week 2 - Life Had Just Begun
About a week ago, your eyes had opened up and you had started coming into your own, moving around and playing with little to no trouble at all. You are proving to be quite resilient for one so small. I scarcely believe this world is quite ready for you, but then again, I might be a tad generous with that claim. Getting back on track, as you explored your new surroundings, you have learned that your family isn’t the only one in this cozy little forest clearing. You can count at least 3 other fluffy families and 1 smarty fluffy that acts as the herd leader, accompanied by two toughie fluffies for protection. As for your own family, it’s you, your mother and father, and 4 siblings, each colorfully diverse and unique in their own way. This cozy forest clearing you call home is protected by a wall of bramble bushes that keeps all the predators out and keeps the herd safe. 3 fallen tree logs act as homes for each fluffy family, leaving the smarty to take up residence in the stump that used to be part of your family’s log. You couldn’t quite tell if it was just coincidence or deliberate planning on the smarty’s part. Oh well, you were young. You had more pressing things to attend to, like playing with your siblings and friends.
You were just playfully chasing the other foals around under the watchful eye of the smarty, minding your own business when you carefully and gently catch one of your friends, pretending to be a scary monster that will eat them. Perhaps your performance carried a little more than it should have. As the two of you were laughing and carrying on, a similar sound rings out from somewhere to the right. A blood-curdling shriek of terror.
“Munstah babbeh huwtin’ babbeh!”
It was your friend’s mother, and before you had time to properly react to the situation, you catch a bright pink hoof under the jaw, sending you shooting a solid half a foot from your friend. The pain was crippling. You couldn’t help but curl up again, expecting the worst again. What does this world have against you?
“Nu wuwwy, babbeh! Mummah kiww poopie munstah babbeh!”
You hid your eyes with your hoofsies, begging for your life for a second time when you hear a solid whack ring out over you, followed by a pain filled shriek. You open your eyes to see the Smarty and his two toughies standing over you in a protective stance.
“Ova fwuffy’s ded body…”
The Smarty growls, motioning to his toughies.
“Fwuff dis stoopi mawe up.”
The smarty would finish before turning to gently pick you up by the scruff of your neck to carry you to your parents. You couldn’t quite see what was happening to the meanie mummah, but you could hear plenty of screams and grunts. You honestly hope she got plenty of sorry hoofsies.
The Smarty would drop you off at your parents’ log, gently nudging you with his snout to enter. Your mummah was watching the whole thing and wasted no time giving you the biggest, warmest huggies that you ever had. It’s like she said when you were born, huggies make everything better. You close your eyes, drifting off into blissful slumber in the comfort of your mother’s warm fur. After almost being taken out of this unforgiving world twice, you just want today to end. You just want to go to sleep and pretend today never happened. Perhaps that would have been best, given what’s about to happen.
Month 1 - Winter Is Coming
Now a month old and you’ve finally come into your own, seeing the world and exploring it on your own. The colors of the leaves on the trees in the morning sunlight, the assorted reds and yellows, captivated you and filled you with wonder as you started to explore this forest clearing without fear of attack from that dummeh mummah again. Now that you think of it, her log is looking kind of empty. Do you think something bad happened to the rest of her family? Or do you think they just moved along? Either way, you could life more comfortably now that meanie mummah is gone. As the day went on, it was filled with joyful playing with your siblings and friends under the watch of Smarty Friend. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but something about Smarty Friend just rubbed you the wrong way. Something felt off about him, the way he watched you and only you. It didn’t feel right. It could be some sort of subtle malice for all you know. That just set the tone for the rest of the day. Minutes turned into hours of playtime, and you could feel the cool breeze of autumn brush into your fur, and you happen to look up and see the leaves start to fall in hundreds. It wasn’t long before your mother would call you back into the log for nummie time. The thought made your stomach clench for some inexplicable reason. You’ve never been this hungry before and it seems to be getting colder. You pray that it can’t get much worse than what it already is.
Month 2 - The Monsters
It’s getting colder. Even at 2 months old, you’re able to recognize the changes in the weather, and it doesn’t bode well. Most of the food that Smarty, the Toughies, and the others would go out and scavenge are starting to dwindle. Most fluffy mummahs have stopped feeding most of their babies or stopped producing milk all together. To make matters worse, some of your siblings have gone missing. Something is very wrong around here and you can’t put your little hoof on it. You are so hungry that you can’t even bring yourself to get out and play to take your mind off of your gnawing hunger. All you could do is just lay there, curled up in your log and wishing your pain would go away. Minutes would turn into hours and the gnawing stomach pain would make the time pass even slower. It wasn’t long before the sun started to set over the now barren trees, bathing the clearing in a blood red glow. That’s an omen if you ever saw one.
As the night crept in, you started to doze off, praying that it wouldn’t be your last time when you were awakened by the sounds of growls and screams. Scared, you poke your head out of the log to see what was going on. A pack of woofie munstahs had found the nesting area and are eating any fluffies they could come across. Fearing for your life for the third time in a row, you found a good hiding spot in the empty roots of the log, knowing that the woofie munstahs are too big to get into the roots. All you did was just close your eyes and waited for it to be over. In the darkness, you could only hear loud rapid sniffing circling around the log before disappearing into the night, the stillness of the night broken for the last time by the symphony of howls from the woofie munstahs. You closed your eyes for the last time that night, somehow in the back of your mind knowing that things were only going to get worse.
The next morning, you decided to venture out of the log to investigate the aftermath. You stood there in absolute horror as you saw the clearing saturated with the blood, viscera, urine and feces of every last fluffy in this clearing. What’s worse is that you happened to see your mummah, or what’s left of her, within walking distance of the log. This broke your tiny little heart. You never felt alone in this world before, but now that you’ve fully grasped the harsh reality of this world, the loneliness was crippling. Tears run down your cheeks as you laid down next to the remains of your mother, nuzzling into her as you accepted your place in the world. This world wants you to die. Let’s not disappoint it. You tried to sleep, hoping you’d never wake up again, hoping you’ll be reunited with your family in the afterlife, if there is one for fluffies. Why, you ask yourself. Why?
From somewhere behind you hear a familiar voice call out to you.
“Babbeh?”
You look over your shoulder to find another fluffy looking at you with surprise, though your vision was blurred from your tears. It looked like Smarty, but you shrugged it off as another mean dream, turning back into your mummah’s cold lifeless fluff. The dream would then pick you up and place you on it’s back, forcing you to accept the reality of the situation. This was no dream. Smarty has returned to take you away from this nightmare.
“Nu wuwwy, babbeh, Smawty wiww take cawe ov yu.”
The Smarty’s gruff menacing voice would give you a semblance of relief, knowing that from the carnage of your former life, your new life will begin. Oh, you sweet summer child, you have no idea. The monsters aren’t all gone. Just you see.
Month 2 Week 2 - Winter’s as Cold as Death
The snow has finally started to fall, and food has started becoming scarce, but every time Smarty would scavenge food from wherever he can, he’d give you a fair share. For the first time in months, you weren’t hungry anymore. You were actually starting to gain weight, gain insulation from the cold. You are confident you were going to survive. Happiness filled your heart as time went on. At the same time, you couldn’t shake that feeling that Smarty was up to something. You can’t quite tell what, but something in your very soul told you it wasn’t anything good. At the end of the day, Smarty came to a clearing in the forest, a black path cutting cleanly through it.
It was a road. You remembered these from Smarty’s stories about hoomins to the herd. Where there are roads, there are hoomins, and where there are hoomins, there’s the chance for a nyu mummah or daddeh. For a warm housie and sketties. You were so excited. You were finally going to be rid of this nightmare. At least, that was what you thought.
“Dis whewe babbeh get off.”
Smarty would comment, picking you off his back and dropping you harshly into the cold snow. You didn’t understand what was going on. Why is Smarty dropping you off here? Why is he leaving you to the cruel elements you’ve been trying so hard to survive? He would turn to you with the sickest grin and bear down on you with those cold heartless eyes, revealing his intentions all in that moment.
“Smawty have bettew chances ov findin’ nyu mummah ow daddeh if Smawty awone an’ hewpwess. Su, how about nummies fo’ da woad?”
It hit you all at once: he planned to eat you. Not all of the monsters have gone away. One was in front of you the whole time. This was the last straw. You were sick and tired of fluffies and monsters trying to take you out of this world while you fight for your right to survive. In a feral shriek of rage and defiance, you kick a surprising amount of snow in the Meany Smarty’s face and made a run for the road.
If there was one thing you remember from Smarty’s stories about hoomins and their roads, it’s that hoomins drive these big metal vroom vroom monsters down these roads all the time. Fluffy herds met their untimely end on these roads all the time. If luck remains on your side, Smarty will be dumb enough to chase you onto the road and get squashed by a passing vroom vroom monster. As you draw closer to the road with your little legs carrying you as fast as they can in the snow, Smarty hard on your heels, you scan both sides of the road for any passing vroom vrooms. Your luck continues to hold as you can see a set of lights coming down the road and the road drawing closer to your little hoofsies, but at the same time, a very angry and frustrated Smarty dove into the snowdrift behind you, sending you rocketing onto the road. You land very painfully onto the road, sliding on the black ice to the otherside.
It took both of you a moment to regain your bearings, but the plan seemed to be working. Your luck just needed to hold out a little longer. Your eyes would never leave that Meany Smarty as you stood your ground, buying time for the vroom vroom to get here.
“Dummeh poopie munstah babbeh…”
Smarty would growl as he charged, picking you up in his muzzle and throwing you violently onto the road. A sharp pain filled your chest as you felt a bone or two crack, weakening your body but not your resolve. The vroom vroom was almost here. If this is where you go to forever sleepies, at least he won’t be too far behind. As your vision slowly fades to black, all you can hear was…
“Smawty gunna du what dummeh daddeh shudda dun wong ago…”
“HEY! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
December 3rd, 20XX, 10:30PM - Closing Day of Deer Season
You are Darrell Laymen, antiquer and hunter by trade. When you’re not out looking for any WW1-WW2 Militaria, you run a Fluffy Shelter that triples as a breeder and a Fluffmart that has very high renown across the state of Missouri. Well, you’re the ONLY Fluffy Shelter/Breeder in the state of Missouri as of right now, but that’s beside the point. You were driving down the road in your restored 1941 Willy’s Jeep with your Custom M1 Garand across your lap and M1911 on your side, a good sized 10 pointer buck in the back, when you noticed something going on in the road. You slow down to get a better look without running the risk of running whatever it is over. Looks like a feral fluffy stallion trying to…kill an Alicorn Foal?! In that color?! This rarely ever happen in the wild among ferals, so you had to step in and stop this.
“HEY! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
You roar out to get the stallion’s attention. It worked as his attention shifts from the foal to you, glaring daggers at you, puffing up its cheeks, looking all mean, typical smarty behavior.
“Smawty nu scawed of dummeh hoomin. Gu way.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and chuckle, knowing that his intimidation tactics were so pathetic that it was adorable.
“Oh? And what if I don’t? What will you do then, tough guy?”
You knew too well that fluffies were literally no threat to humans outside of overpopulation, so you had this in the bag. This seemed to infuriate the stallion even more as he starts kicking and huffing like a wild bronco, flinging piss and shit all over the place.
“Gu way, dummeh hoomin, ow Smawty giv wowstest huwties!”
You got him now. You lean down, look him in the eyes, and utter one simple word:
“NO.”
Having thoroughly tested the Smarty’s patience, he’d rear up with a feral shriek, charging towards you and proceeding to attack your legs…with expectedly minimal results. It was only a matter of time before he realized how pointless this was, and when he does…
Checkmate. He stops his assault, one of his little hooves still firmly planted on your shin as he looks up at you with a nervous grin on his face a mile wide.
“What awe da odds dat we can tawk about dis and go on owa mewwy ways?”
You couldn’t help but grin when he realized how screwed he was, but you couldn’t let him leave for him to turn around and try to kill the foal. In the end, you couldn’t help but humor him.
“What do you think?”
“Smawty didn’ fink so.”
You reach down to pick up the Smarty by his scruff, lifting him to eye level.
“Pwease be gentwe.”
“I promise nothing.”
“Smawty appweciates yow honesty.”
Wasting no more time, you pull out your M1911, switching from Safe to Fire and pressing the barrel against his forehead. Just a slight amount of pressure on the trigger and… BANG The bullet exits out the back of Smarty’s skull, blood and brain matter shooting out the exit wound. Now, to dispose of the body, you simply toss the dead fluffy into a nearby snowdrift before returning your attention to the foal. You picked up the small mass of fluff, closely examining it. It was a little alicorn stallion, appears to be a runt but somehow, he managed to survive this long. That stallion really fucked this little guy up. He’s not gonna make it if you don’t get him taken care of. Swaddling him in your Battle of the Bulge US Parka, you rush to your jeep and hurry down the road, calling about the only available staff at the shelter that was certified in fluffy trauma care: your good buddy, Marcello Rodrigo Allende Herrera Rosendo, or Chendo for short.
“Hola, Fluffy 3-in-1 in Kirksville.”
“Hey, Chendo, it’s Darrell. You’re not gonna believe this, but I found a copper colored alicorn foal, runt from the looks of him, in the wild! 2 months old and he’s alive in the wild! He’s pretty fucked up, so I’ll need you to be scrubbed up by the time I get there.”
“Oh, shit, for real?! No problem, carnal, let’s save this little milagro!”
As you hung up the phone, you glance down towards the little miracle in your pocket, shivering in pain and the cold.
“Hang in there, little guy.”
Month 2, Week 3, Day 1 - A New Life
You don’t remember what happened on the road prior to you passing out, but when you woke up, you weren’t cold, and you weren’t in pain. You were warm. You were safe. You were laying on something soft in a well-lit and colorful room. In front of you, two hoomins loomed over you with care and relief. They seemed to be talking among themselves because their comments weren’t pointed towards you, but you know they were about you.
“It’s done, ese. The little hermano had only a few fractures, so I splinted them and gave him a light painkiller. He’ll need some time to heal, but I’m confident he’ll make a quick recovery.”
“Good work, Chendo. Hey, I think our little friend is coming to.”
Your vision clears, getting a clearer look at these hoomins and your surroundings. They didn’t seem scary at all, compared to what Smarty and Daddeh made them sound. This place they have you kept appears to be for fluffies. You heard stories about places like this. You knew for a fact you were safe, so you felt comfortable enough to ask where you were.
“Whewe am babbeh? Wha happen tu Smawty?”
“You’re safe, little buddy. That mean old smarty won’t be bothering you anymore. What were you doing out there, anyhow? Where’s your family?”
The hoomin was kind enough to take care of you so you felt inclined to answer him, but the memory of your family butchered by woofie munstahs was still fresh in your mind. Your little heart broke again, finally giving into the sorrow you fought so hard to suppress as you laid yourself bare for the hoomin to judge.
“Babbeh am aww awone. Was poopie munstah babbeh, su daddeh twy an’ gib babbeh foweva sweepies. Mummah stop daddeh. Was pwaying wif oda babbehs, meanie mummah twy to gib babbeh foweva sweepies, Smawty stop meanie mummah. Woofie munstahs num whowe hewd. Smawty twy to num babbeh. Babbeh am aww awone. Nu mummah, nu daddeh, nu bwudda ow sissy. Babbeh wan…”
You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your thought, knowing that you had fought for your life, so you didn’t deserve to die, but even then, the hoomin understood.
“Don’t you dare finish that thought, little one. I understand that you had bad luck up to this point, that the world isn’t fair, but that’s gonna change tonight. As of tonight, I’m your new daddy.”
The words from the hoomin’s mouth brought something into your heart you haven’t felt since you were born: hope. You could scarcely believe it.
Given your luck this far, you couldn’t resist asking, “Am hoomin suwe? Hoomin nu mind?”
He smiled as he reached to scratch behind your little ear in comfort.
“I’m sure. I’ve been wanting to get a fluffy for a while now, so you saved me the trouble of buying one.”
The hoomin behind him leaned in and commented, “Bro, you own the store. You could just take one if you wanted. Just saying, hombre.”
Then Nyu Daddeh would reply, “You know I’m not like that, Chendo. I’d rather come by it honestly. Having said that, little one, we need to give you a name. Your color is pretty unique, so I’m thinking Copper. Do you like that name?”
Your excitement could scarcely be contained. Despite your injuries, you leapt upwards in excitement.
“Coppew wub nyu name! Coppew wub nyu daddeh!”
The two of you share a smile and a close embrace. You knew things were going to be okay from here on out. This is the start of your new life.
The End.