On a dark cold night a man sits in the woods, alone by a fire keeping warm and watching the fire burn. As he watches a small group of fluffies walk toward the man. “Pwease mistew hewd cowd, need nummies and wawmies?” The herd begs and pleads in which the man responds " got no food, but your welcome to warm yourself by the fire". The herd relaxes, they talk to their foals and start a fluffpile… an hour later the fire starts to die, cold creeps back in with the fear of death, the herd panics and looks to the man, “pwease mistew warm burnies go way, make warmies cum bak?” The man looks over, “the fire needs wood to burn and im all out, if you want to survive the night your gonna have to sacrifice some of your herd to survive, maybe a few foals or a fat adult… but its your decision. Better hurry tho, once it goes out i wont relight it.” The herd stares at the inferno, burn the foals? Maybe a poopie fluffy, or one of the fat dams. They stare on into the baze deciding what to do…
The fattest fluffy makes the sacrifice play and gives a dramatic, “neads ov da many way moor dan neads ov da feu…” speech and belly flops on to the dieing fire. Snuffing out the remaining flames with it’s fat fucking flabby fatrolls.
wonderful work as always, their expressions could also be seen as a call of the void with fire. so starved for light and warmth they are drawn to it regardless of the danger, their reverence only broken by the first to tumble into the flames. id imagine the few fluffs that make it to Alaska would eventually succumb to this madness on polar nights
The poopy is quite big so hes probably the smarter decision.
Of course what they will probably do its feed there foals to the fire one at a time. or threaten the fire with sorry poopies and end up extinguising it 
It wasn’t until almost half of the herd had either willingly or by force been consumed by the fire, the man “realized” he had “forgotten” the huge pile of wood he had been sitting up against.
The real question is this the first herd that passed thru …
Stupid, dumb fluffies.
Sometimes they make my brain hurt.
Just go get more wood.
Its cold, and the babies might not live anyway. Might as well make use of them.
“Well, maybe just start with the poopie babies. They’re ugly and unwanted, and might as well serve a purpose. Also, after they’ve cooked you can eat them!”
The herd was surprising with their eagerness to accept this suggestion. The few malnourished poopie babies were thrown on the fire. The herd was seemingly saved.
After the small foals had began do blacken the man used a stick to toss them out of the fire. They were quickly consumed, not offering much of any substance to the tiny few lucky to get even a single bite.
Shortly after the flames began to dwindle again. The cold was working it’s way back through their bodies.
“Huuhuuuuu Mistew… Wawmies gu way…”
“Fwuffy stiww hungwy…”
“Good babbehs nee’ miwkies!”
“Well, I don’t have anything I can do about any of that. Maybe put your least prettiest foals on the fire?”
The herd was noticably more disturbed at this prospect. Poopies were an easy choice, but these were good babbehs.
It wasn’t long until one starving mother made the choice. After that, it was a frenzy of the good foals who least resembled their parents to the fire.
The flame roared to life, and the meat cooked. The herd ate, the best babbehs drank.
The game continued, until just the bestest babbehs and their mummahs and daddehs remained…
The herd still hungry, the fire once again dying out…
“Listen fluffies. You are the best, prettiest, and smartest fluffies I have ever seen. You can always make more babies. But you have to make it through this night first. You know what you must do.”
The greatest betrayal. The remaining fattest and greediest foals were shoveled to the flames. Their parents barely waiting for them to have cooked before they started digging into them, some while still fully alive.
Screeches of agony, betrayal and misery permeated the air as the flames grew higher.
Then suddenly, only blackness. The flames instantly went from a mighty roar to being completely sniffed out.
The silence was pungent before panic set in moments later.
The herd erupts into a new chorus of suffering, their progenie gone, the atrocities they committed and now their sole source of warmth extinguished despite all they sacrificed.
As this happens, the man stands from his seat and grabs his propane tank, disconnecting the hose leading to the portable fire pit.
Chuckling to himself as he walks away "only took this batch an hour and a half " as he makes his way through the darkness back home, where he turns on the TV and cranks the thermostat.
As he passes out on the couch with his hounds a weather report plays on TV. Another terrible snow storm is headed through the area tonight, and the lows are predicted to reach the double digits below zero.
Smarty gets annoyed that fire keeps demanding more fluffies in order to keep burning, so gives it “sorry poopies”. Then the fire goes out, confusing the fluffies.
Go weirdbox. There’s enough of them they could probably roll the human into the fire. Even if not, horse poop burns pretty well on its own.