You are a fluffy pony named Midnight, and you are a very lucky. You live in a nice, comfortable housie with a nice mummah and daddeh, and a fluffy friend, and a new tiny little mummah or daddeh on the way, because Mummah is a soon-mummah! And when her babbehs have had enough milkies and gotten big and strong, she says you can have babbehs, too. It will be forevers, but she promises to tell you when. Even if she never tells you when, you’ll still be lucky.
Your fluffy-mummah told you about being ‘feral’, an outside fluffy, because her fluffy-mummah ran away from home to have babbehs. And it was hungry and cold and scary, and they had a herd, but fluffies went forever-sleepies all the time, and it was never just because they got too old and tired, gentle as going to regular sleepies. They didn’t even get old enough to get the kind of bad sickies that human magic can’t fix, like how old, old Snowball next door had had to eat those yucky treaties to make his sickies not hurt him so much, and let him run and play for longer. No, the woods had been full of munstahs, and hurty-places, and there had been human-munstahs sometimes, too. A good day with the herd had been beautiful, your fluffy-mummah always used to tell you, but it was never worth the bad ones.
After your fluffy-daddeh and the good old smarty who had done her best for everyone had gone forever sleepies, and the new smarty had been dummeh and meanie, Mummah had picked you all up as soon as she could move again after biggest poopies, and gone looking for a good human housie. Not all humans are good, she had always told you, but a good human is the best thing a fluffy can have. She had watched all of the humans for forevers and forevers, so long that you actually remember when she took you all to Mrs. Davis’s house, because you had just started to be a talkie-babbeh. Mrs. Davis had said not to call her ‘Mummah’, because she only had room to keep your fluffy-mummah forever, but that she would take good care of you, and find other people to keep doing it.
And Mrs. Davis had! Your Mummah and Daddeh live close enough that you can still visit your fluffy-mummah, and sometimes just meet her in the fluff park by accident. It’s the same with your brothers and sisters, except for your pink wingie brother, whose Little Mummah’s daddeh had to move for work, but he still uses human magic to talk to you, sometimes. You have toysies, and good kibble, and even though Mummah and Daddeh are gone for work a lot (human soon-mummahs don’t get so big, so Mummah isn’t very big or slow yet, she just has a fat tummy that she can still hide with the right not-fluff) you’re not lonely all day, because you also have Coconut. Coconut is another mare, and she’s much older than you, so she’s kind of like a fluffy-mummah, but she’s also a lot smaller than you, so sometimes it’s almost like having a half-grown talkie babbeh. You all call her Coco, most of the time.
There are microfluffies, who are really little, but Coco is just a small regular fluffy, like you’re a big one. She’s a wingie-pointy friend, and Mummah and Daddeh were so happy that you didn’t mind. You love Coco. She’s smart and nice, and only a little cranky from her bad eyesight and hurty leggies. She has shaggy white fluff, and a brown mane and tail. She always says that she looked all right when she was young but that you really have good colors, but you think she’s silly. It’s a special brown, all golden. Mummah and Daddeh call her their toasted coconut, sometimes.
Because Coco is so smart and has lived here so long, and because you always listen to her, the two of you don’t have to stay in the saferoom all day long when Mummah and Daddeh are at work. They do it a lot right now, to get moneys for their babbehs, and because Mummah isn’t going to do it as much when her babbehs need her and her milkies. Which makes sense, soon-mummahs and new-mummahs never went nummy-finding when your fluffy-mummah was an outside fluffy.
So they’re gone a lot, to get all these moneys, and while you and Coco have a wonderful saferoom, it is just a room, and Mummah and Daddeh have decided that you’re good enough fluffies to be allowed out of it during the day. You know not to get into Mummah and Daddeh’s things, and to stay away from all the not-skettis, and not to get too close to the blue water behind the house. Wawa am bad for fluffies and this wawa smells very not-pretty, so that’s easy to do.
Forevers ago, when you were still just a big talkie-babbeh, Mummah and Daddeh took you to Wawa Safe, where there were a whole bunch of babbehs and big fluffehs, crying and yelling and making bad poopies, while the nicest lady in the whole world besides Mummah helped them learn what to do if they ever did fall in the water. You learned, and got your shiny paper to prove it, but ever since you have just tried not to fall in the water.
You have to go past it to get to the back yard, which is all sunny and full of dandelions and perfect for huggie-tag and naps in the sun, but it’s not like the water will reach up and grab you, not like it used to in the forest sometimes, when all the snow melted into the river and all the sky water fell in and it got all big and angry. The blue water is still dangerous, much, much too deep for fluffies to stand up in, even where it’s shallow at the end, but it’s very quiet. It only eats the buggy-munstahs that are dummeh enough to try and land on it.
There’s also a camera. You don’t fully understand cameras, but you know they’re human-magic, and are like extra eyes, and can somehow keep what they saw. Mummah says the camera is there to keep you and Coco safe, and that she and Daddeh make sure to check and see what it sees lots of times a day. Sometimes they miss when something happens, like when the bad barky munstah got in, but you and Coco ran back in the housie, and Coco had given the red ee-mer-gen-see button stompies, so the fluff door wouldn’t let the barky munstah in.
Mummah and Daddeh hadn’t seen that, but they had known by the time they got home that you and Coco had been really, really scared, and that they needed to find that bad barky munstah. Mummah had given you huggies and told you how you had done just what you were supposed to, while Daddeh used the phone to call something called Animal Control.
Today, you’re following Coco out to the back yard, because the older she gets, the more she likes to lie in the sun. Her eyesight is also getting worse, but she’s stubborn and won’t admit it and let you lead the way. So she’s far ahead, and you’re just in time to see her get close to the edge of the blue water. Much too close. You’re suprised that she can’t smell that she’s too close, and hasn’t turned away already.
You yell her name just as she slips and falls in. The water didn’t reach up and grab her, but it has her anyway. “Coco, nu! Wawa am bad fow fwuffies!” You know she knows that, you just can’t help yourself.
You have no idea what to do, but you run over a fast as you can. A lot of fluffies would just scree and sink, but Coco went to Wawa Safe and got a shiny paper, too. It was even more forevers ago than when you did, but she thrashes her leggies and wingies and doesn’t sink. She can’t seem to get out, either. Both kinds of wingy fluffies have such little hoofsies! It makes them fast, but they have a hard time grabbing onto things and climbing. Especially when they’re as small as Coco
“Mi’nite, hewp!”
“Coco, gwab hoofsies!”
You reach down and Coco desperately tries to cling onto one of your much, much bigger front hoofsies with both of her own, but the size difference makes it awkward, and holding onto things is hard with hoofsies at the best of times, and she slips free before you can even start pulling her up.
“Wawa, pwease nu huwt Coco!” you sob, trotting after poor Coco as she thrashes and splashes around the edge of the pool, panting and crying, her poor, sodden little wingies helping her swim the way they showed the wingy fluffies at Wawa Safe. As you pass under the camera, you look up at it for a moment, tears pouring down your face. “Mistuh Camewa, pwease hewp! Hewp, Mummah, Daddeh! Wook at camewa! Hewp Coco!”
It would be easier if you could catch Coco by her scruff, but it’s so hard to grab her because she can’t stop moving or she’ll sink, and she’s so small that you have to lean so far down that you’re at risk of falling in, yourself. It’s the scariest thing ever, with the water so close, and Coco so frantic, so much worse than the barky-munstah. Any danger is better if you can run together. You try and you try to grab Coco, and she keeps slipping free of your hoofsies or your teeth and back into the awful, stinking blue water. It goes on for so many forevers.
Over and over, you get one of Coco’s little black hoofsies onto the edge of the pool, or get a grip on her scruff, and she just keeps slipping back in. You keep yelling for help as loud as you can, but you know no one is going to come. All the Mummahs and Daddehs are at work, and Mistuh Simmons, who doesn’t go to work anymore, is visiting his babbehs. The whole neighborhood is quiet, except for you, yelling and crying, and Coco splashing and panting and scrabbling at the edge of the water.
Even if all you can do in the end is trot stupid circles around the pool until Coco sinks and goes forever sleepies, you’re going to do it. You love Coco best of any fluffy in the world, maybe even more than your fluffy-mummah, and you’re not going to let her go forever-sleepies alone. Coco is a good fluffy, and she has a family that loves her, and she’s supposed to go forever-sleepies gently, with time to say goodbye. If she can’t have that, she’s going to go forever-sleepies with you right here, trying to save her and letting her know you love her so, so much.
“Wub Coco,” you sob, as she slips through your hoofsies again.
“Wub… Mi’nite,” she gurgles, spitting out that awful blue water.
And then somehow, you manage to lean down just far enough. Your belly gives a terrible lurch, you feel your back hoofsies leave the ground for a moment, and you just have time to think that maybe you’re both going to go forever-sleepies, and that you’re really sorry because one of you should be here to help Mummah and Daddeh feel better, and then your weight rocks back, and Coco makes a desperate lunge, slamming those tiny hoofsies further up onto the edge of the water than you have ever gotten them before. It’s still slippery, and you lose your grip on her scruff, and there’s this awful moment where it seems like she might fall back in, but then she gets one of her back hoofsies up onto the ground, and heaves herself up. You grab her in a tight hug and fall backward, both of you sobbing.
It takes a minute for your sobbing to calm down and turn into cooing, but then you sit up and give Coco some licky-cleanies, even though the blue water is disgusting, and makes your throat and nose burn. She shakes her long fur, and beams up at you.
“T’ank ou! Wub!”
“Wub ou,” you tell her, nuzzling her and then standing up and giving your own coat a shake, even though you’re dry. It still helps you feel more settled. “Ou otay?” you ask, and Coco nods, trotting off toward the backyard.
“Nas’y wawas! Aww cowdy, nee’ bwite-baww mowe now!”
You giggle, catching up to her and prancing around in the sunlight. “Su happies ou nu foweba-sleepies!”
“Coco happies tu,” she says, and flops over onto her favorite patch of soft, sunlit grass.
You do the same for a while, and then bring her some flower-nummies to share. Mummah grows some that you’re not allowed to have, but she has a whole area that’s meant for you and Coco, because she’s a good mummah. Once Coco has rested, you play some huggie-tag, and talk to Lemonade through the fence when his little Daddeh brings him by on their walk.
When it starts to get dark and cold, you go back inside, and eat your kibble, and then you cuddle up with Coco to watch some FluffTV. The two of you doze off to Best Of Dancie Babbehs, and wake up to Mummah frantically calling for you from the saferoom door. It’s not good for soon-mummahs to worry like that, so you hop right up.
“Ams hewe, Mummah!” You trot over to her, Coco following. You’re not sure why Mummah is crying. Everything is okay, right? “Mummah am otay?” You ask, and she just cries more, kneeling on the floor to give both of you huggies, very, very tightly.
You and Coco hug her back, and when she says she’s a bad mummah for not already putting a cover over the blue water, and that she can’t believe this happened when the cover is coming next fucking week, you tell her she’s a good mummah, and that you love her. It’s not her fault that Coco won’t let you go first, and that wawa am bad for fluffies.
[Author’s note: inspired by this clip of literally this entire thing happening with two dogs. Don’t click if you don’t want to see real animals in mortal peril, but I can promise that everyone is okay now: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHgy75FqOZk]
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