something quick while i get used to this again :))
. . .
you huff as you push through brambles and twigs, shaking out your pretty fur and standing in triumph once on the other side. your herd follows from behind, staring in awe at the massive house you’ve managed to find. only the best for you - head held high, you lead the other fluffies over to the window. the remaining older foals are bouncing around, the mares trying to keep them in check as your toughie looks around.
“dis housie am empty,” you announce, pointing at the window. “wiww make gud pwace fow cowd times. an if hoomins gu in, weww, den we hab sketties fow wife. nao hewp smawty.”
your toughie is instantly by your side, planting her hooves firmly in the ground. she grunts as you climb on her back, getting on your back hooves to try and reach the windowsill with your front only to miss by a few inches. you hiss under your breath, “dummeh gu highew! nu can weach!”
“fwuffy am twying,” she strains to carry your weight, and you miss the way her fact twists in pain. not that it would matter to you anyway - can’t she see she isn’t helping at all? you knew a stallion would be a better choice for a toughie. you’re sure they wouldn’t have any issues here.
she complies, however, and you’re sent a few inches higher. the inside of the house looks warm, still furnished, and for somebody else this would raise a red flag, but all you can think about is how nice it’ll be once you finally get inside. not once have you regretted leaving your dummeh mummah, but you do regret doing so right in the middle of winter.
but now you don’t have to sleep outside in the cold anymore. you try to pull the window open with your hooves, like you’ve seen humans do, but it doesn’t budge. frowning, you push instead, but get no different results. it isn’t locked; there’s nobody here! why isn’t it opening?! you begin to hit it more forcefully, breaking the silence with the sound of your hooves striking the hard material you don’t know the name of.
“…smawty?” one of the foals in your herd speaks up from behind you, “awe ‘ou suwe dis am wowking?”
“yes!” you snap, whipping your head around to look at them. your toughie starts shaking from beneath you at the movement. “nao shut up an wet smawty jus-”
you only get a few seconds to react when the toughie suddenly collapses, panting. you’re sent falling, fear gripping you for a moment while the world spins. thankfully for you, you land on your toughie, who wheezes pathetically at the impact. your herd gasps, some jumping back as snow flies.
you roll off the other fluffy and stand back on your hooves, trying to act like you didn’t just piss yourself involuntarily and that it was definitely meant to be a punishment. “dummeh toughie,” you scoff, trying to get rid of the tremble in your voice. “‘ou am wowthwess. one of ‘ou has tu hewp smawty.”
your herd balks. none of them meet your eyes, some staring at the toughie at your hooves and others deciding the ground is more of an interesting sight than you. you growl; you can’t just stop here. not while you’re so close. your anger ramps up the longer they stay silent before you eventually turn back around. “den onwy smawty wiww get housie,” you say, “nu need dummeh hewd anyway. ‘ou can aww gu foweba sweepies fow aw smawty cawes.”
ignoring the sounds of shock and sobbing from behind you, you walk right up to the front door. “nao watch smawty get in and wock ‘ou aww out.”
muddled with anger, you don’t actually have a plan to open this door. but to your delight, it takes the liberty of opening itself for you. grinning smugly, you look back over at your useless herd, “see?”
then you look over to see a steel toe boot in your face. the human you swore wasn’t here looms over you, freezing your nerves worse than the cold. you can only stare up in disbelief, mouth agape. “d-d-d-dummeh hoomin,” you force out, “gib smawt-”
you’re interrupted by a hefty kick to the chest. you don’t even have the breath to scream as you fly across the yard, landing on recently cleaned concrete. you can hear your spine snap instantaneously, and you garble and cough up blood while the worst pain you’ve ever felt sends your limbs into spasms you can’t control.
you can’t control your back legs. not only that, but your chest feels heavy and full with something, and you’re only able to tilt your head to the side. there your herd still stands, staring at you with terrified looks. several have already ran away, most notably mothers and their foals, while some of the stronger stallions lift the toughie up. shouldn’t they be helping you? you’re the one that’s hurt! you’re the one that needs help!
you open your mouth to let out another yell, but all that comes is more blood clogging your throat and falling into the snow. “hhhh…” you gasp, and one of them looks over, “h-hewp smawty…”
a few seconds pass. they only stare silently before turning around the way they came, carrying the toughie you so easily tossed away. you sob, unable to do anything but lay there and cry. the freezing cold stone digs into your fur, adding onto the chill starting to envelop you.
the human walks over from the doorway, but you’re only able to see their boots from your angle. you know they say something, but the ringing in your ears is too loud for you to make any words out. before you know it, they raise a foot. you look up for long enough to catch the underside of their boot, tufts of your fur sticking to it, before it comes slamming down onto your head with a sickening CRUNCH.
