The tiny colt woke up from his nap in his new home. Still blind, he used his sense of smell to navigate to what he assumed was his mummah’s teet. While the formula wasn’t as good as the milkies he drank when he was first born, it was still good and filled him up. With his belly filled, he crawled back to his stuffy friend and cuddled him before falling back asleep. That sleep wouldn’t last long as something would pick him up, wipe him clean, and make him go to the bathroom. The little colt didn’t mind this and would chirp happily during the process. As each day passed, he forgot what little he knew of his mummah. By the time he first opened his eyes and looked up at Fred, there was no trace of her lingering in his mind.
Fred smiled at the little fluffy. The dark green unicorn’s mane had started to come in. It was a shiny silver color. A long with the now visible red eyes, there was no doubt that the foal was something special. What Fred held was what was known as a tinsel fluff, a rare fluffy that was originally thought up as a christmas special to be sold in stores during the holiday season. That alone wasn’t what made him valuable, a lot of holiday fluffies existed, but tinsel fluffies had a quirk in their DNA that made the males excellent breeders.
This quirk did two things. First, it made it so that all children they had were born with bright vibrant colors. These were a holy grail for mills that had mares that were shit factories. A mare with bad litters but had good temperament could actually be useful for once. The second, and arguably more important, thing it did was make it so that the foals they sired were resistant, if not outright immune, to developing smarty or bitch mare syndrome. Only problem was that this trait did not pass down beyond their children. Still, a single tinsel fluff stallion could be enough to fix a mill or reputable breeder’s stock and would actually be worth much more that an average fluffy.
Fred didn’t even know what he had at first, but a classmate who’s family owned a nearby mill had informed him what he had during the first day of class that Fred had to lug the foal around. He even offered to buy the foal from him when the course was over, but Fred told him he would have to think about it. Truth was that Fred was slowly getting attached to the foal. The little guy’s constant happy demeanor, even as a chirpy, brightened up his day.
“Hey there little guy.”
“Chirp cheep cheep!”
“I guess I’m your dad.”
The foal’s little brain made the connection to the pre-programmed words in his tiny brain. This large creature was his daddeh! “Chirp cheep!”
“I guess you’ll need a name.” The foal looked up at Fred with joy in his eyes. “How about Cheery?”
“CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP!”
“Glad you like it. Well, let’s get you back in your incubator for now. We have to get to class soon.”
“Chirp?” The foal didn’t know what a class was, but if it was important to daddeh, then it must be good.
Meanwhile, Moppy was busy with the remains of her litter. Fortunately for her mummah, the owner of the stud told her not to sweat the loss of the cutie marked foal as he was after a long haired fluffy foal from the brood for breeding purposes. He also told Helena that it was pointless to sue her ex as the value of a fluffy is basically nothing unless you have actual proof to it’s value, and newborn foals were not considered worth anything as foal mortality rates were so high that no lawyer with a brain would take a case over one. There was essentially no way to prove that the foal would be alive and well if he never threw it out.
While Helena stewed in her anger, Moppy trotted over to her and told her the good news. “Wook mummah! Babbehs open see pwaces!” She preceded to place the squirming foals from her back on the floor in front of Helena. There were two colts(a light blue unicorn with a pink mane and a yellow earthie with a black mane) and two fillies(a bubblegum pink earthie with a light blue mane and a lime green pegasus with a curly white mane).
“That’s great Moppy.”
“Can babbehs hab namsies?”
“Sorry honey, not until they’re older and have a human mummah or daddeh of their own.”
“Oh, otay mummah,” she was clearly disappointed. “Moppeh undahstan.” She picked her little brood up and waddled back to her nest. Moppy already knew that her children needed to leave when they were older, but had hoped that she would at least get to know their names before they left. She couldn’t name them herself after all, thanks to Hasbio programming. Getting a name was something special to a fluffy, even more so than skettis. However, if her mummah said not yet, then Moppy would respect that. Only bad fluffies begged and didn’t listen to their owners.
So Moppy tended to her children while she could. Part of her still missed her little dark green pointy babbeh, but she knew that dwelling on it would give her heart hurties. The speed at which she recovered from a foal being stolen was uncommon in first time mothers, but she had a secret that she never told her mother about the day her foal was taken. She had hobbled up onto the couch and looked out her saferoom window in time to see a human stallion take her foal out of the trash and try to soothe it before leaving. She could tell he was a good person by the way he coddled he child, so she decided to not tell Helena. All that mattered was that her child was safe and happy, even if that was without her.