After surprisingly 3 days of recovery, Ron finally woke up but was still too weak to say anything or move, he just looked at me with more tears in his eyes.
Why was this happening? Why am I feeling compassion for one of these shitrats that I hate so much? I honestly don’t know, but I petted it carefully after some staring that felt like a eternity to me.
“Relax, buddy. You’re safe now, just don’t force yourself, okay?” I said to the fluffy, it leaning slightly into my touch.
I felt I had to tell him about his foal, that female orange alicorn, but also felt like it wasn’t the right moment, so I kept it as a secret, for now.
Damn, that poor stallion really got fucked up by his mate. How can a fluffy be so savage to the point of tearing another fluffy’s ear and arm off? If I find that fucker who did it, I’ll make it regret it.
After constantly checking on Ron for almost a week, one day, he was waiting for me on a cage, and a employee was carrying it alongside some papers. Ron was surprisingly calm even in a unknown environment, EVEN MORE SO that he was a feral.
“Mr. Greenwood?”
“Yes, that’s me. What’s wrong?” I said as I approached the employee.
“I have some good and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
“Bad news first.” I was already prepared for the worse at this point.
“Well, the bad news is that, even if we did attach a new leg to it, it doesn’t move, so he will have a single unusable leg from now on.” The employee said seriously as he carefully lifted up the cage and showed the quiet Ron on it, pointing to the leg it was missing when I found it.
“I see…” I tried to remain calm even if I felt even more bad for the fluffy. “… And the good news?”
“The good news is: Besides that, he is recovering pretty fast, and if you want…” The employee handed the papers for me, these were… some adoption paperwork? But before I could ask, they continued speaking “… You can adopt it, as he kept calling for you when you were out. If not, we’ll have to put it into a shelter, however we cannot guarantee his safety once he reaches it.”
I gulped and looked at the paperwork even more serious now. I could risk it and take him home, it seemed to be gentle and polite, after all, but I didn’t know if I was ready to do it as a former fluffy hater. And if I didn’t, who knows what would happen to him, it could end up in way worse hands.
But then I noded and reached out my hand to the employee. “Do you have a pen with you?”
…
At the end of the day, I was walking home with Ron’s cage in my hand, he murmurred something like “Fank’ yu, mistah” while we walked home.
Let’s see what fate holds for both of us now, even more so for me, as a new fluffy owner that already know what they need.
TO BE CONTINUED.