The bitter winds sliced at the families soft faces, with threats of worse to come.
Sheltered by a frozen skip of human refuse and a drenched piece of cardboard, a Fluffy family tried to wait out the winter storm, but with the razor-winds getting stronger and sharper with each passing hour, and the blade-like snowfall getting thicker and thicker, they knew they couldn’t last for long.
The stallion, Hemlock, pulled his mate closer, trying to keep their bodies as close together to protect their children from the hateful winter; five still milk-dependent foals with only their parents for safety, no humans nor herd to save their family. Hemlock had born in a herd to the unnamed enfie-mare of a short-tempered Smarty named Roarke who may or may not have been Hemlock’s father. Born with a dull dark brown coat and black mane, he was spared the indignity of an early death by his mother’s pleas and gifted a rough but loving childhood. But it was once Hemlock was old enough for solid foods, Roarke offered him only the herd’s waste as sustenance.
When Hemlock refused to be the herd’s new poopie-nummer, Roarke nearly killed him, only to be stopped by his mother telling Hemlock to run. Hemlock’s last view of his mother and of his herd, was Roarke’s fury caving her skull in.
Holly had never known a herd, never known her family, she was born in a mill, one of countless foals bred in the dark and dingy underground of the Fluffy trade, never knowing her father’s existence, never seeing her siblings faces, never feeling her mother’s love. Holly was born with a dark green Fluff and bright red mane, near identical to the plant from whence she got her name, a perfect seasonal Fluffy…
Born in the wrong season.
Birthed in the summer, it was Holly’s colours that doomed her, and saved her at the same time, the traders that owned her could never sell her, she was six months too late to make last Christmas and would be six months to old for the next. However her owners figured they could at least keep her around as a breeding mare and see if her Christmas colours were genetic. However it wasn’t much longer after her birth that a raid on the trading network sent Holly and hundreds of other Fluffies into the wild, too scared and confused to band together. Whilst most were rounded up and returned for rehousing or ‘disposal’, Holly and a good percentage of her cellmates, escaped.
By chance the two Fluffies met each other on the cusp of adulthood, they spent that glorious time in the last days of Summer playing together, helping each other find food and caring for each other over their shared trauma of lost families.
Care turned to friendship, friendship turned to affection, affection turned to love. Nights of holding each other close and nuzzling sweet nothings eventually evolved into a loving relationship, a bond forged in the healing power of love that saved both Fluffies from the hardships of their beginnings.
And set the course for new beginnings as well.
Autumn was already in full swing by the time Holly knew she was pregnant, an exciting time for the young couple, too young to know about the harsh reality of the world. Both Hot-Time babies, neither of them had the experience, nor the knowledge passed down from their elders, to know about the approaching cold-times. By the time Hemlock realised that finding food was getting more and more challenging, it was already too late to do anything, and his first children were born on empty stomachs a first snow of the new winter.
It had been just under a month since then, and the situation had only gotten worse.
Hemlock had scrounge as little as he could; cold grass, frozen bread that had been thrown out, mouldy apples, it was never enough but it kept the family going, if only just. But everyday he had found less and less, where the snow hadn’t fallen so thick that his eyeballs were frozen just trying to walk through it, there was only icy waters and treacherous slips, too slippery and dangerous for his marshmallow hoofs. And that was only when the weather permitted him the chance to walk, more and more the shards of hard rain that had partially demolished their makeshift home had made even seeing a herculean task and walking through it nigh-on impossible.
Hemlock hadn’t been able to find food in two days, and the weather showed no signs of brightening up. He could feel one of his foals shuffling between himself and Holly, seeking out a teat that couldn’t give him the milk he so desperately needed.
Not for the first time, Holly started weeping. “Huu, speciaw-fwiend, babbehs need miwkies, am wowstesh mummah, gib babbehs tummeh-huwties.”
“Nu, Howwy am bestesh mummah, Hemwock am wowstesh daddeh, nu can find nummies in cowd wawa.”
“Hemwock need gu, need find nummies su babbehs nu gu foweba sweepies, pwease speciaw-fwiend, Howwy nu wan heawt-huwties fwom babbehs.”
Hemlock stared deep into the eyes of his mate, his love, part of him wanted to deeply to tell her that he couldn’t, that the frozen winds and rain would surely kill him, dooming her and their foals to an even worse fate. Another part of him, a very small part but one he couldn’t ignore, wanted to suggest letting their children feed off what little waste they could produce until the weather cleared.
NO!
No, Hemlock would not become his father, he would not force his own children to eat poopies to live, he would find food in this torturous blizzard until it killed him and then he would keep looking anyway.
“Hemwock gu find nummies, nu wet babbehs ow speciaw-fwiend had tummeh-huwties aneemowe, Hemwock be bestesh daddeh.”
Holly smiled at her love, frozen tears in her eyes. “Wub yu speciaw-fwiend.”
“Wub yu tuu, an wub yu aww babbehs.”
The five foals didn’t respond to their father, too busy conserving energy by trying to huddle together and sleep through the storm, but Hemlock swore he saw a couple of them smile in their slumber.
Carefully, he climbed out of the Fluff-pile and pulled another piece of cardboard over his family, hoping it could offer them more protection in his absence. Then, with no direction to start with and no way of seeing more than five feet in front of him, Hemlock set off into the cold, cold world.
Currently the only worry Hemlock didn’t have was finding his way home, he knew if he faced pointy building where the humans went to do singing, turned right around, and kept walking until he saw the building with the picture of the happy man with mouth fluff and a ‘Pee-Zah’ in his hands then he would only be a few corners away from home.
Hemlock loved the happy mistah place, something about it smelt SOOOOO good, but every time he had went to ask for food he had been chased away by a not happy mistah inside. Once he saw another Fluffy refuse to leave, demanding something called ‘Sketti’, only to be kicked so hard against the wall that his finkie-place popped right open.
Hemlock wasn’t sure what ‘sketti’ was, but something inside him wanted share it with his children.
Currently the ‘Pee-Zah’ place was closed so there was no chance of finding anything even if he was allowed to be given anything. With little in the way of options, he started walking towards the Pointy Building, a large yellow star shone like a beacon on top of the pointy part, beckoning him to come closer.
He had seen humans brave all kinds of horrible weather to make it to that pointy building, surely one of them would have food.
It wasn’t a far walk to the pointy building, and the low roofs of his surroundings made it easier to keep an eye on even as the rain cut into his flesh, but for a Fluffy and in this weather, he might as well be climbing Everest. The day was only just passed the afternoon but the dark clouds and constant rain had blocked out anything resembling the sun, placing the town in a constant state of grey that permeated even the blanket of snow, turning a winter wonderland into a sludge covered bog of brown and black.
It was that sludge that Hemlock had to push through, his tiny legs too stumpy to make any real impact, every step took an age to make as he trudged through the thick clumps of snow, getting most of his round body trapped in the solid mass before trying to move his next leg whilst also freeing himself, then starting the process over and over.
His teeth were chattering, his face in a horrific state of being drench by the rain but so dried by the cold that he could feel small cuts forming around his mouth, his eyes barely able to look up for more than a few seconds before being shredded by the razor blades of rain. His only solace was the star, with every tiny glimpse up he could see that star beaming bright, showing him the way to safety, to food, to salvation.
His mind flashed with fears of dead foals, of finding his family starved to death in his absence, or even worse, of dying cold and hungry waiting for him to return, and Hemlock felt something ignite inside him, he pushed himself forward, fighting every instinct he had to turn back or to hide away and wait out the storm.
Hemlock had to do this, to prove that his father was wrong for treating him like a failure, that his mother was right to protect him with her life, that he could prove to them and to himself that he was a good Fluffy and a good daddy.
Passing the frozen corpse of another Fluffy stuck to the pavement, their mouth stuck in a final, silent scream, Hemlock continued onwards to the star.
It took Hemlock all afternoon, he couldn’t feel his legs or his belly anymore, his tail had the first indication of frostbite and he could taste the blood from his cracked lips, but he had made it to the star and to the pointy building. The star itself was too high up to reach, even for a human, but the land surrounding the pointy building was open for Hemlock to explore. The first thing he saw was a small wooden shelter, a simple wooden wall and a roof with two fences on either side to make up the lack of proper walls around it, but it was a shelter all the same.
Immediately he went for it, not caring about anything other than getting some shelter from the cold, as soon as he rounded the corner he ran head first into… what could only be described as hard yellow grass. There was loads of it, scattered all around the shelter, it was tough and itchy at first on Hemlock’s soft Fluff but the more his body sunk into a natural bed the more comfortable he became, and more importantly, warmer.
Hemlock was so busy being reacquainted with a long-forgotten comfort that he almost missed the people inside the shelter, it wasn’t until an errant look over that he saw them, more people than he could count, all standing in a semi-circle around a wooden box on legs.
“HOOMINS!” Hemlock cried as he jumped off of his new bed and raced to greet them all. “HOOMINS PWEASE, BE NYU MUMMAH OW DADDEH FOW HEMWOCK AN FAMIWY, NU HAB NUMMIES IN SU WONG, BABBEHS HAB TUMMEH-HUWTIES AN NEED… AN NEED…”
Hemlock trailed off as he realised there was something off about these humans, they weren’t moving, barely even an inch save for some light swaying in the wind. He also noted that their faces looked… unreal, something undefined and almost fake about their black eyes and painted smiles.
He looked to the left, there was three men, each of them wearing a clothes a different shade of green or brown and carrying large sticks, to the right, three more men but wearing the brightest, most colourful clothes Hemlock had ever seen, each with a small box in their hands. And in the centre, right beside the box on legs, a man and a woman, both of them smiling at whatever they could see, the woman’s face and her bright blue hood stood out to Hemlock the most, something about her smile, as unreal as it might seem to his eyes, felt familiar.
He was reminded of his Holly, and the look she had when the foals were first born. But if there was a babbeh in the box, it was unnervingly quiet.
Hemlock didn’t know what was wrong with these humans, but they seemed happy, even in the storm, and he didn’t want to disturb that. Feeling a little dejected, Hemlock turned to go back to the weird yellow grass, and by chance he saw it.
All along the wall in front of pointy building were lengths of green leaves, and among the green leaves, several bushels of bright red berries, almost as bright as the star that led him here. Seeing the green body and the shining red amongst it made Hemlock think of Holly and that had to be a sign.
In his haste, Hemlock darted forward, only for some hidden pointies on the green leaves to hurt his sensitive snout, he yelped in shock and jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding a puddle behind him.
“Pwease Pointy Gween Weafies, Hemwock onwy wan wed nummies fow speciaw-fwiend an babbeh, nu gib huwties nu mowe.”
Inching ever closer, Hemlock opened his mouth and carefully bit down on the stem of the berries, with a light tug he was able to pull an entire bushel off of the wall without the pointies hurting him again.
“Fank yu Pointy Gween Weafies, Hemwock teww famiwy bout yu wen babbehs hab miwkies.”
His mood elated so much that even the horrid rain didn’t bring him down, Hemlock went to work pulling off more and more berries from the wall, some bushels fell apart once taken away from the green leaves, but most of them stayed in one bundle making it easier for Hemlock to carry, ensuring he could get plenty for…
“’ERE, GET AWAY FROM THAT YOU!”
The loud booming voice of an angry man in the darkness spooked Hemlock, he grabbed what he had and dashed away, not looking back to see who was shouting at him. Not that he needed to, he had enough food to keep his family going for a little while longer.
They had time now, and that was all they ever needed.
It was evening by the time Hemlock returned, he could sense Holly tensing up when he moved the cardboard to get inside, but upon seeing his face and the numourous red berries in his mouth, she broke into a wide smile.
“Speciaw-fwiend am bak, an hab wots of nummies.”
“Hemwock gu tu pointy-pwace, find wed bewwies, dey am wots an wots, can twy git mowe in bwite-time, speciaw-fwiend can make miwkies fow babbehs nyo.”
“Speciaw-fwiend am su bwave, am bestesh daddeh eba, wub yu.”
“”Wub yu tuu.”
The warmth radiating off his mate was everything Hemlock needed in that moment, his body was still chilled to the touch and sopping wet, but it was all worth it to save his family.
Hemlock climbed inside, being careful to nest against Holly’s back so as not to let his cold, wet Fluff upset his foals. He dropped the red berries by Holly’s head and lay down beside her.
“Speciaw-fwiend nu wan nummies?” Holly asked, looking a little worried.
“Hemwock jus need wittew westies, feew tiwed afta twip. Speciaw-fwiend hab nummies tu make miwkies, Hemwock hab some soon.”
Holly gave her mate a comforting lick on his head before taking the berries and scoffing into them, hunger and desperation to see her children fed pushed her at that point, but Hemlock didn’t mind, he felt content as tiredness overtook him and he drifted off to sleep.
Soon he would wake to five fed foals and a family finally ready to beat this cold time.
Father Francisco Bruni was surprised when he heard the rhythmic knocking on the door or his church, at first he thought it was the wind but after a moment he realised it was too organised to be mere chaos. He dashed for the door and opened it, finding a soaked and sodden Groundskeeper Jenkins on the other side.
“Alfred, what on Earth are you doing out in this weather, come inside you’ll catch a cold.”
“S’rry t’ bother ya Father.” Alfred said as he stepped inside, happy to be out of the storm. “Saw Fluffy out by t’ nativity set. Wanted t’ see if he was ye yin or no?”
“No, no, me and Brachetto have been holded up in my room all day and I can guarantee he’s still there.”
“Th’t’s good. Wee man’s nicked bunch ‘f berries from ‘t holly bush, stuff’s deadly if y’ take too much.”
“Oh my, I had no idea holly was even poisonous.”
“Make’s y’ sick if y’ eat some, but y’ eat loads at once, it can kill y’. I dn’t know what ‘t’s like f’r Fluffies, b’t doubt ‘t’s any good. Seemed wee guy was grabbin bunches o’ ‘em, maybe fir his family o’ summit. Would’ve chased ‘em b’t lost h’m in the storm.”
“That’s quite alright Alfred, as much as it pains me to say, we can’t save every Fluffy and I’d rather you not risk your life to do so. I’ll say see to it that the holly it taken down in the morning, at the very least put in a place where Fluffies can’t reach it.”
“I’d also turn t’ star off and all. Can see t’ thing f’r miles, might be wh’t brought him here.”
“Good point, ok I’ll turn it off right now, saves you having to make this trip again. You sure you’ll be alright getting home?”
“T’is no far Father, I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, well thanks for popping by, and Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas t’ you too Father.”
The two men shared a final good bye before Alfred rushed off into the storm, heading for his home across the road. Francisco wondered briefly about the Fluffy Alfred saw, if he had taken as many berries as Alfred had said then it was likely he and his family were doomed.
The priest said a prayer for him anyway, hoping that even slightly, the stallion and his brood would be spared some heartache, before he locked the door and heading back to his room.
this is sad and painful poor fluffy family 
hope they will be together soon in skettiland.