Author’s note: Short chapter, don’t complain, I have a stick and I will hit you with it if you whine.
Chapter 14:
You are Sophia. You’ve become the “mummah” of two traumatized, if adorable, foals.
Both of which are currently snuggled onto your lap, peeping. They’re talkies, but the ordeal they’ve been through has done a number on them, and they seem to have taken on some more chirpy-like behaviors as a means of coping.
“Can’t say as I blame them…” you think, petting Seabreeze’s back. “Cooo……Wub nyu mummah…” he mutters. You hadn’t really wanted to take them as you didn’t really think you were up to the task, but Hazel had insisted that you were, and Theo took that creature’s judgement as good as fact.
You smile down at them. “You like the TV?” You ask. Wisteria looks up at you sleepily. “Wike Tee-Bee, mummah. Wike toysies making show best.” She said. You were going to have to be careful with what was on TV. The shows about how toys were made, the leggies show, and fluffy education shows were probably fine, but there was a decent list of stuff that was right out:
No happy herd hour.
No BABBEHS.
No Mummah song sing along show.
Certainly no Soon-Mummah Show.
Wouldn’t do to bring up those memories for them. You pick them up gently and move them to the fluffy pen you’d set up in your bedroom. You’d need to set up a saferoom of your own, but they also didn’t want to be away from you for any length of time at the moment. You set them down. “Do you remember where good babies make poopies?” You ask.
Both of them nod, and Seabreeze answers with a single word. “Bocks.”
“Good. Now…… You see right there?” You point to your bed, where you had been sitting with them moments before. “That’s where I sleep. If you need anything in the night, I’m RIGHT THERE, you just need to call.” You tell them, watching Wisteria grab her Mr. Love-Love and coo happily.
“Okay mummah.” they say. You consider asking them to talk about their feelings…….but decide against it. They’ve had a day, they’re tired, they deserve to sleep and recover a bit. There will be time for them to work out their trauma later, what they need now is a safe, happy home.
Well, they’ve got the safe one, at least. You’re still working on “Happy”.
You leave the bedside lamp on for them. Both of them curl up soundly, hugging their trauma-toys and peeping.
For the first time in years, you don’t have bad dreams.
For the first time in years, you feel like you might actually be doing something worthwhile.
Maybe Hazel was right after all.