Chapter 12:
You are Sophia Clarke.
The phone rings, you answer it, somewhat put out by being called on the weekend.
“Who are you and what do you want?” You bark.
“It’s Theo, I have a……VERY serious problem on my hands.”
You sit up.
“The foals!? Is Hazel alright? Is it Neapolitan?”
“They’re fine, but……I have two other strays here, and the story of their lives is like something out of a fucking horror film. One of them’s missing his left eye, and I’m worried for their mental health.”
“What happened to them?” You ask.
There’s a long pause across the line.
“A Bad Smarty found their family. It killed the stallion, then “Enf’d” and killed the mare and all the other foals, except for them.” he answers.
You feel sick. Bad Smarties are rare, but when they happen, they’re utter monsters, the inverse of all normal fluffy behavior. “Are they chirpies?”
“They told me this themselves.”
“Fuck….that means they’re going to remember it for the rest of their lives.” You say, flinching.
“Yeah uh….could you just like…… I dunno, come over and talk to them or something? I’m doing my best here, but they’re pretty shaken up.” Theo says.
“Be there in 10. By the way….did you kill that Smarty?”
“….I’d rather not talk about that.”
He hangs up abruptly.
You’re somewhat put out by that, but given his tone, whatever happened to the little hellgremlin had not been pleasant. You haul ass to your car, and grab some gear on the way out. Not sure if it will help, but foal storybooks, trauma friend toys, and the “Mummah’s wuv” foal carrier and bed might be nessecary.
— — — —
You are Hazel.
Chocolate brought two sad little foals to you. Daddy told him, to tell you, to take care of them.
You gave them best licky cleanies, getting all the dirt and mud off them. They shake and cry, you sing momma songs and hug them, Mochi does her best dancing for them and gives them her favorite stuffy friend.
It helps, a little. They won’t talk, beyond a few shakey words, and flinch, peeping and making fear poop at any sudden noise or movement.
As a momma, you know something horrible happened.
“Shhhhhh….Hazew take best cawe of wittwe babbehs……Hazew’s babbehs be just wike bwudda and sissies fow you……Mummah Hazew wuvs you, Mummah Hazew keep you safe and wamsies, give bestest huggies and huv…” You coo.
Neapolitan waddles over and rolls her ball to them. “Nyu fwiends have biggest heawt huwties, can have baww if make feew bettew…” She says, looking at them sadly. The little green Unicorn looks at her, and stares out of his remaining eye.
“Thank you, pwetty fwiwwy……Stiww hab many heawt huwties, wub nyu fwiends….” He says, crying. You lick his head gently. “Mummah wuv babbehs babbehs wuv mummah……” you softly sing, rocking them in your hooves.
The door to the saferoom opens, and your daddy is there, along with the pretty lady from the fluffmart. It’s been a long time since you saw her.
“Shhh” you say. “Dey sweeping.”
You daddy walks to you and pets your head the way you love so much. “Good work, Hazel.” Mochi stops her dancing, panting. “Mochi am…….tiwed….no can keep dancing….” she says. Daddy picks her up. “You did great, your dancing always makes everybody so happy, you’re a great fluffy, Mochi…” he tells her, setting her in the bed.
“Pwetty Wady, you come to wook and nyu babbehs?” you ask.
“Yes, Hazel, I did.” She looks at your daddy, and motions to the door. They walk out.
— — — —
You are Theo.
Sophia practically kicked your door in and was in full doctor mode, drilling you for information.
“So…… this fucking hellgremlin set them as some sort of trap?”
“To the best of my understanding yes.”
“Have you fed them?”
“Hazel’s on it, she’s giving them her kibble.”
“Let me see them”
The two of you walk to the safe room, to be met with a sight that frankly breaks your heart. Your little foals are offering their new friends their favorite toys, Mochi is dancing as fast as she can, and Hazel is softly, sadly singing a mummah song. The babies are sleeping in her arms. She shushes you, and you pet her head gently.
Mochi keels over, exhausted. You pick her up and place her in the fluffy bed, telling her how good she was doing.
There’s fear shit on the floor, no doubt from the newcomers. The kibble bowl, meant for an adult sized fluffy, is empty, licked clean of even dust.
Sophia catches your arm, and gestures to the door. You follow her.
“Don’t wake them, let them sleep.” She says, leaning against the wall and fishing out a cigarette from her pocket. She offers you one.
“No, thanks……God, did you see how they ate? I could tell the damn thing wasn’t feeding them, but they must have been almost dead from starvation….” you mutter.
She nods. “Yeah, looks like it. They’re probably a week or two older than yours, Theo, but they’re fear-shitting, chirping, and are a bit smaller. The poor things were probably still drinking mom’s milk….” she says, taking a draw on her smoke.
“So……what do you think?”
“I don’t, yet. Let’s wait for them to wake up. When they do, we’ll have a look at them, and I’ll see where they stand.” She said. You could see her hand shaking.
You sigh, leaning against the wall, and put out your hand. “Fuck it, I could use it after today.” you say. She passes you the lit cigarette, and the two of you take turns on it.
“I didn’t think fluffies DID that kind of shit….” you finally say, after a long silence.
“Normally they don’t. You have the book on these things, Theo, you should know what a bad smarty is.”
“I DO, but the book only says “Opposite of normal Fluffy behavior.” It didn’t mention fucking WAR CRIMES.” you say.
She shrugs. “Fair enough, what you’ve told me was heinous, even from some of the stuff I’ve seen. So……what DID you do to it?”
You stop.
“I set it on fire, then put it out and left it die slowly from the burns.” You say, looking down. Even if it deserved it, you feel shame. Shame that you could enact such cruelty.
“Jesus Christ……” she says, looking at you, wide-eyed.
“I know. Not proud of it.” You say.
She’s silent for a long moment.
You feel a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Theo. You’re a good guy, you’re a good fluffy owner. That little shit had it coming.” She says with a small smile.
“Thanks.”
Chocolate pokes his head out of the doggy door. “Daddeh, nyu fwiends am awake.”
— — — —
You are Sophia.
Frankly, you’d half a mind to give Theo a fucking medal for what he did to the smarty. You’re damned proud of your friend.
Chocolate poked his head out the saferoom and informed the both of you the strays had woken up. It had been nearly 20 minutes, but they were awake, and on the floor of the saferoom.
You sat in front of them, as Theo cleaned up the fear-poop.
“Hello, little ones.” You say, gently extending a hand. “I’m a friend, you don’t need to be afraid of me, I’m here to help you feel better, okay?”
The little Pegasus approaches you timidly, and sniffs your hand. “Nu smeww pwetty.” she mutters.
“Sorry, it’s from a……”you pause “Special medicine, that humans sometimes use to calm down.” you explain. No need to explain nicotine to a fluffy.
The Unicorn is suckling his hoof. You make note of that, sign of mental distress.
“May I pick you up, little Pegasus?” You ask, not reaching for her. You don’t want to frighten these little things.
She seems to consider it for a long moment. Hazel chimes in. “You can twust pwetty wady. Pwetty wady am fwiend of Mummah Hazew and babbehs.” she says.
That seems to tip the scale in your favor. The pegasus assumes the “upsies” pose, and you gently, slowly, lift her up and hold her close to your chest.
“What’s your name?”
“Wistewia.”
“That’s a very pretty name. My name is Sophia. I’m a human who takes extra special care of fluffies. Can I ask you some question, Wisteria?”
She nods, and you gently pet her.
“How old are you?”
“Nu know.” she says.
“Too many bright times to count?”
“Nu can count above fouw.”
“That makes sense, you count on your leggies, right?”
Wisteria nods.
“When was the last time you ate anything?”
“Wonger den fouw bwite times.” she says.
“You must have been so hungry, poor foal….”
Hazel watches you. You feel something odd in her gaze.
Pride?
Approval?
“I know this is hard……did that monster fluffy do anything bad to you?”
“Gave Sowwy hoofsies, said wouwd give enfies…”
“Oh, poor sweet Wisteria…” You say “You’re just a little baby! Babies are for hugs and love….”
“Wistewia wike Sophia.” She says, hugging your fingers with her little hooves.
“Do you have bad sleep-pictures?” you ask.
Wisteria nods.
“Do you get scared easy?”
She nods again.
“I see. Do you trust other fluffies and people?”
“Gud ones.”
“Makes sense. Who are the good ones.”
Wisteria seems confused. “Gud ones am……gud.”
You sigh. She can’t articulate what she means, but then she’s a foal, what do you expect?
“Okay, you sit here…. little unicorn, can I-“
“Pwease no uppies.” he says.
“Okay…okay…I won’t, can you answer some questions?”
“Aww same answew as sissy.” he says. “Pwease no give huwties.”
Poor thing’s terrified of you. Reaching into your pocket, you produce a “Trauma toy.” they’re made for rejected foals, and those who have been used as enfie babies, or lost family. The toy is nothing more than an extra soft stuffy friend, but it’s packed with pheromones that trigger comfort in fluffies.
“Look! It’s a special friend just for you! This is Mr. Love-Love, he’s very nice and soft, and he wants to give you snuggles.” you say, putting the toy in front of the unicorn. He sniffs it, and his eye widens. He immediately latches onto it, hugging it as hard as he can and breathing in deeply. “Smewws wike babbehs and mummahs and wub and miwkies….” he says, a tear coming down his face.
“That’s the smell of love, little foal.” you tell him, petting his head. “PEEP! Wub Mistah Wub-Wub!” He says.
You give another to his sister, who begins to buzz her wings happily. You use the foal’s relaxed state to examine his missing eye. Cut, probably by teeth, or a sharp object the smarty found, beyond saving, but he keeps the lid shut on reflex. Not infected, by some miracle or another.
You stand up, and walk to Theo.
“Okay, so….they both have a wicked case of PTSD. Neither of them is litter trained, and they won’t be for a while. They’ll probably suffer fear-pooping until they’re full grown, which should be about a year from now. The colt is never going to recover his left eye, and I’d be shocked, frankly, if either of them ever want to breed. They’re suffering malnutrition and will never grow to full size, they’ll always be a bit smaller, and they’re peeping and chirping, which tells me there’s some mental regression due to the stress, but that might subside.”
You feel a marshmallow hoof on your leg. You look to see Hazel.
“What is it?”
“Hazew am having idea. Think Nice Wady shouwd take saddest babbehs.”
Theo looks at her and raises and eyebrow. “Why’s that, girl?”
“Hazew have many heawt huwties when Daddeh find, stiww have saddies sometimes, but daddeh and babbehs fix bwoken heawt. Hazew wuv saddest babbehs, but no think can give bestest heawt fixies. Is hooman magic. Saddest babbehs need hooman mummah with magic toysies.”
You blink. Fluffies? You? No…no no nonono! Not since……well……
“Uh…. I don’t know if I…. that is to say……uh….I’m very busy……it might not be fair to….” you stammer.
“She’s right, you know.” Theo says from next to you. “Look how you took care of them. You know more about fluffies than I do, and they’re going to need a LOT of care and love. But….Hazel, won’t you miss them? You seem to have taken to them.”
“Hazew wiww, but Pwetty Wady can awways bwing dem for vistings, and babbehs need what is best for dem.”
They’re not in the wrong.
You’ve just been voluntold to adopt these abused foals by some late 20’s hugboxer dumbass and his unusually intelligent fluffy who likes the THX name-plate because she can make the noises in time with it.
“Guess I’m “Mummah” then….” you say, giving in.
Hazel hugs your leg. “You wiww be bestest hooman mummah!”
You hope she’s right.