The morning had come. Mercury stretched out his legs and yawned. Heck of a day yesterday. He had dodged certain doom and found a new mummah. Exciting stuff! He trotted out from under the tarp he’d spent the last night under and along the perimeter of the tarmac, sizing up his new home and planning what came next. He’d have to put together a real nest today, and begin to figure out a way to communicate with his new mother. He caught sight of the picked-clean bones of his two assailants from the day prior.
…maybe Mewcuwy jus’ biwl’ nestie today, he thought, grabbing a mouthful of leaves. He’d helped build the herd nest back home, so he knew the right kind of foliage to look for. It was slim pickings amongst the dry tall grass that bordered his new tarmac abode, but Mercury had a good eye for these sort of things. At first he considered setting up at the bottom of the trench on the east side of the property, but a memory of a rushing river claiming two of her old herdmates put that thought to rest nice and quick.
As luck would have it, there was a tree with a small hollow at the base just outside the west end of the property. Digging out a good area for him to lie down in was tough work for the blue fluffball, but eventually he had a good cubby to lay his rump down for rest. A few sticks and leaves for wannabe walls and a cushion for sleeping completed the home. Mercury took a step back and smiled at his finished abode. Some sorrow did creep into his head as he remembered the fluffpile back in his old den. The smell of happy fluffies, the babbling of babies. All he heard out here was the wind on the long, dead grass. Peaceful for certain, but fluffies are social creatures. They need the comfort of other walking, talking, creatu-
“GOIN’ ON A FLUFFY HUNT!,” Ilene yelled, stomping out of her house. She was in an uncharacteristically good mood. The morning sausage was made perfectly, her coffee came out just right, and she had remembered to wash her black top. The redhead gave a foal corpse in her right hand a small squeeze and hucked it forward into the center of the lot. One of the older foals that wouldn’t stop calling her “mummah”. Sorry Beatrix. She inhaled and stretched her arms out wide. Sun was warm on her skin, wind just cool enough, blue sky promised a perfect day. Ilene called out, “Terrence! Breakfast!” before turning west and marching on through the waist-high grass. Mercury huddled behind the tree and watched his mummah make her way towards the forest.
Fwuffy Hun’? Gud thing Mummah goin’ 'way fwom hewd… he thought, walking back over the tarmac. A large black shape caught his attention. He watched the large bird peck at the deep-blue foal for a moment, before it began to tear off bits of flesh and limbs. Mercury, admittedly, was at first perplexed as to why his Red Mummah would keep such a terrible beast around, until it suddenly hit him. He slapped his forehead with a tiny hoof.
“Oh! Mummah hab fwend fo’ hewpin’ get wid uf bad fwuffies!” he declared, nodding. “Bai bai Tewwence!” he called out, just like his mummah.
Terrence stopped suddenly, the back end of his meal hanging out the side of his beak, and looked at the… food (?!?) waving at him. He watched the blue creature smile at him, turn about face, and follow the same path the human had just before. The vulture gulped down the little legs in his mouth and continued eating. Somewhere in his bird consciousness, he was bemused.
~~
Peanut butter there, peanut butter here, step one two over the log. Threefourfivesix almost fall down. Ilene stomped on her foot, catching herself before tumbling into a depression in the ground. She chuckled at her own clumsiness and continued her procedure. She had gone through an area of the light woods near her home and slathered peanut butter about the place. It smelled strongly, could be applied anywhere without losing its appealing colors or taste, and would keep for a while if not immediately found. She had smelled and eaten more than enough pasta in her time and was not about to stink up her warehouse with the smell of tomatoes.
Mercury stood from afar and watched her inquisitively. Mummah was much too far from any good grass or flowers or berries or mushrooms, he thought. He smelled the ground and couldn’t pick up on the smell of any fluffies. He scrunched up his snout. Poor mummah needed his help; she was in such a good mood today! It would be the worst if she didn’t find any fluffies on her fluffy hunt. Mercury was, for certain, questioning the morals of a “Fluffy Hunt”, but figured that if they found good fluffies, Red Mummah wouldn’t hurt them. Now that he thought about it, there was a patch of flowers they passed earlier that he picked at before, maybe that would be a good start? He waddled back towards them, nose to the ground to smell out a fluff trail.
Sure enough he eventually found the patch of pretty yellow flowers and, mouth full of their juicy goodness, quickly found hoofprints behind a nearby branch. Mercury grinned and followed the path. The smell of fluffies was getting stronger on the ground, he noted. Not long now.
“Hewwo! Nyu fwend?” a voice peeped to his right almost comedically quickly. Mercury turned and beheld a yellow fluffy, smiling at him. Relief washed over Mercury.
“Showe! Am Mewcuwy!”
“Dat gud namesies! Am Sticks!”
“Dat… awso… gud namesies!” Mercury didn’t get foreign fluffies. Such strange names, “Does Sticks-fwend haf hewd? Mewcuwy haf pwesent fow bestest hewd!”
Sticks bounced in place, overjoyed as the prospect of a present. All he was going to do today was walk through some tall grass and feel it rub against his face for a few minutes, he had no idea he’d find something as amazing as a present!
“Sticks hab hewd! Bigges’ and bestest hewd!” he pawed at Mercury’s shoulder, “Fowwow Sticks, bestest fwend Mewcuwy!”. Mercury followed his yellow compatriot farther from the path, a smug grin on his face. He had saved the Fluffy Hunt.
~~
“Ilene this Fluffy Hunt is ruined,” Ilene bemoaned, lying on a log. The smell of peanut butter was fervent in the air, the wind was blowing, why on earth wasn’t she getting any fluffs? She scratched her stomach once, twice, three times. Three days in a row she had encounters with roaming packs, where were they now?
“Probably in Terrence’s stomach,” she muttered, exhaling a soft chuckle. She watched the leaves in the trees above her sway in the breeze. The changing light hit her eyelashes and made the world itself dance in illumination. She caught herself rubbing the scar on her abdomen. A thousand thoughts always plagued her with that indentation. Was this even a good world to live in? Would she have raised Iris right?
Exhale.
One, Two, Three, Four.
“Oooo baby, you’ll always be baby to me,” she sung softly, caressing the scar. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind tickle her face.
A rustle from a nearby bush caught her attention. She sat up quickly when she caught the sound of chatter.
“… sticky nummies … wook babbehs … fowwow smawty …”
It worked. Ilene popped open a pocket on her cargo pants and pulled out a tightly-folded bit of burlap. She quickly yanked it open to its full size and tossed it behind the log just as the first fluffy made its way out of the nearby bush line.
“Dewe she is! Nice wady dat gib hewd nummies!” the lead fluffy declared. He scampered forward, followed in tow by fifteen, count, fifteen others. Different breeds, different colors, different sizes and ages, the perfect sample had waltzed into Ilene’s lap. She couldn’t believe she had managed to bait an entire gang of them. She expected one or two today, and then some more on the following days, but an entire herd? She pet the head fluffy’s mane, shaking her head.
Still got it, Barkley. Still got it.
“Did you all enjoy the peanut butter I put out for you good fluffies?” she asked, laying on the sweetness thick. She smiled with all teeth showing, eyes bright and wide open. The epitome of a perfect new mother. The herd ate it up, each trying to tell her about how much they loved the food. She picked up a tiny foal from a mother’s back and rubbed her nose against its snoot.
“Oh aren’t you just the most precious thing!”
It giggled happily and hugged Ilene’s schnozz, eliciting a cry of joy from its mother.
“Dat Jewwie’s babbeh! Gud babbeh, gib bestest wady huggies!”
Ilene gently placed the foal back in its mother’s grasp and grabbed for the sack she’d prepped, folding it back into place in her pocket. Guess it wasn’t needed after all. She stood up and whistled a little tune, to the joy of the fluffies scampering at her feet.
“Do you gorgeous little fluffies want a new home?” she asked joyously, clasping her hands together and kicking a leg up cutely. Was it too much? The screaming cheers from the crowd beneath her didn’t think so.
“Well then come come, follow me and I’ll bring you there!” she proclaimed, arms outstretched. The band began their triumphant exodus to the lot, singing and hugging the whole way. Ilene was still beside herself at the luck she’d stepped into.
Really surprised I didn’t need the sack.
Two fluffies in the mob, voices lost in the cacophony, reflected on the situation.
“Dis am da bestest day ebba’! Hewd su wucky to meet fwend Mewcuwy!” the first yelped while prancing.
“Bestest fwend Mewcuwy! Gud fwuffy teww hewd 'bout nice wady!” the other chimed in. He looked left, looked right, and was confused, “Whewe… whewe am bestest fwend Mewcuwy?”.
Keeping a twenty foot (or so, fluffies can’t really measure) distance, Mercury followed the pack. Whatever Red Mummah wanted with fluffies, she could do for, well, forever probably! That would make her so happy! Then she wouldn’t be sad anymore, and he could actually introduce himself! He beamed with satisfaction at a job well-done. The Fluffy Hunt was a rousing success, and no one got hurt!
Yes. He was a good fluffy.
He had done well.
~~
“Alright, and you’re the last one,” Ilene said, placing a purple and black fluffy into a cordoned off area of her designated fluffy containment area in the bunker. The last addition scampered off to get hugs from a friend or two. Most of the herd was still gobbling up the kibble she had provided, but there were some that weren’t fond of the dingy lighting, or were trying to jump over the barrier to see the other area she had set up for Beatrix’s family. She took note of two fluffies softly sobbing and hugging each other.
“You two bubs okay?” she asked. Judging by their size, she guessed they were adolescents on the cusp of sexual maturity. The slightly bigger azure one turned away from the tight embrace and trotted to Ilene.
“Tank 'oo fow nummies nicest wady, buh dis homesies am scawy,” he pitifully replied, pawing the carpet beneath his feet with a hoof. Ilene nodded, putting on a concerned face.
“No, no, you’re on the money there, chief,” she leaned in, eyes widening, lip curled into a snarl, “This is a very scary place”. The blue fluffy began to hyperventilate as he stared into the massive mug not an inch from his snout. She began to tenderly pet and scratch at the back of the fluffy’s head, her face suddenly returning to its cheerful visage.
The pets and scratches felt wonderful on his soft, slightly matted, fluff. The blissful sensation of being pet by a human contrasted terribly with the horrible, venomous tone Ilene whispered into his ear. He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t comprehend the duality of the situation, so he sat and whimpered, paralyzed in fear. Ilene stood up straight, nodded at the herd, and left the Nursery.
“Speciaw fwend, yu okay?” the azure fluffy’s hugging partner asked. He blinked. And again. Quietly, he got up, turned to his friend, and buried his face in her fluff.
Something was, very wrong, about nicest lady.
~~
Ilene pulled the tarp off the collection of machinery off to the side of her warehouse. A-ha, just what she was looking for. She rolled the grill to the front of her porch and lit it up. Nice and hot for burger night. She loved cooking, really was a huge pastime of hers. The smell and sound of a well-made meal was tangible anticipation. Arguably the eating of food itself was much less interesting than actual preparation, she figured as she placed four patties on the grill. Two for her and two for Terrence who was roosting on her lawn chair.
Ilene watched the fire under the grills sputter with each drop of grease. She hadn’t noticed it until now, hypnotized by the flames, but… none of the fluffies called her “Mummah”. It was all a deliberate “Lady” or “Nicest Lady”.
Hmm.
That didn’t make sense.
Not at all.
Ilene clicked her tongue. She turned to Terrence.
“All fluffies ought to refer to their human owners, or caretakers, as ‘Mummah’, so why didn’t any of these guys I brought in do so?” she asked him. Terrence fiddled with a wing.
“I know it sounds crazy Terry but this goes against everything I had put in their heads,” she paced off to the side, hands together in front of her chest, “could their vocabulary cues have changed with the last decade of feral life?” Ilene pulled at the bunch of hair at the top of her forehead for one, two, three, four, five, six seconds. Turn about. Blink once, twice.
“…It’s good we got them now though,” Ilene stepped to the grill and flipped the patties, applying seasoning and putting on cheese for her two bits of meat. She heard Terrrence flap in response to the sound of meat sizzling, and smiled.
“Don’t worry big boy, food’s almost done,” she cooed, letting herself get lost in the dance of the grill’s flames.
“Lena you idiot, you were supposed to make sure they didn’t change.”
~~
Mercury sat at the edge of the lot, body engulfed in the tan grass. He was snug in, and enjoyed the flickering light coming from his Red Mummah’s outdoor cookery. He watched her sit and eat with Terrence. Occasionally she would stroke his foot but mostly she sat still, taking in the night and chewing slowly.
It really wasn’t too much trouble getting the herd to follow his directions to Red Mummah. The hard part was explaining to them that she was his mummah, and while she would gladly take care of all of them, he was the only one who she was the mummah of.
Selfish, yes, but Mercury figured he’d deserved it for his unique position. No one else was out here helping get rid of Ilene’s saddies, so no one else called her “mummah”. Simple logic.
Mercury looked up to the night sky. He never really did get a moment of tranquil peace like this with his old herd. It was a constant tirade of talking and hugs, hugs and talking, babies and foraging. He nestled in tighter to his little grass cushion, and closed his eyes.
~~
Movement. Mercury inhaled sharply and jumped back, holding onto a scream when he recognized Terrence’s fluffless wrinkled face close to his. Terrence sized him up with one cold black eye. He vocalized, dropped something from his beak, and took off towards the trees. Mercury sat, puzzled. He looked up to see Red Mummah still in her chair, but the weird metal box she was working over had its light turn off. He looked down at the thing Terrence had dropped. It was brown, and looked like a flattened berry cut in half. Mercury sniffed it.
Food.
He immediately gobbled down the leftover patty, eyes on Ilene the entire time he ate, it was just like he was sharing dinner with his Red Mummah.
Warm food in his belly, Mercury felt anxious and, most dangerously, brave. He began to crawl forward, slowly. He creeped under the porch closer and closer to Ilene, daring to get as near to her as he could behind her. He watched her beautiful, bounding red hair sway in the breeze. He noted some parts where it was tangled, or a little off-color, but it was just like him, imperfect and darn near fluffy, in a way. With just her hair alone, she was perfect, he surmised. Tack on her pretty face, melodious voice, and pension for hurting bad fluffies, and Mercury could barely conceive anything that would make her more perfect.
Then he heard it.
“Hush now baby baby, don’t you cry”
She had begun to sing.
“Momma’s gonna make all of your dre-eams come true”
It was beautiful. Pure. Mercury bit down on his tongue to stop him from crying out in joy and stuffed his hooves in the dirt to stop them from clapping.
“Momma’s gonna put all of her hope into you”
It was perfect, the perfect Mummah song!
“Momma’s gonna keep you right here, under her wing”
Silly Red Mummah, humans don’t have wings.
“She’ll help you fly high, and she might let you sing”
He had never heard a mummah song like this. It was so soft and sincere, much less harsh than the songs he was used to hearing ad nauseum.
“Momma’s gonna keep baby, cozy and warm”
Mercury had never smiled that wide before in his life.
“Oooo baby… oooo baby” Mercury couldn’t see it, but Ilene’s face was awash in tears, “Oo baby, you’ll always be baby to… me”.
Mercury lowered his head to the ground and scooted back, deeper under the porch. He relaxed and closed his eyes. Mummah loved him. Maybe she was happy he was keeping his distance and that’s why she sang? It was so wonderful, he wanted to ask her to sing it again but, of course, he knew that was a silly idea.
A noise stirred him from his blissful rest. Deep sobs getting louder. Mercury listed carefully, oh no. Oh no oh no. It was Red Mummah! Why was she so sad? Mercury shoved his face in the dirt and groaned softly.
Maybe he brought her bad fluffies? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to eat that burger?
Oh Mummah, why are you crying?
Mercury helplessly listened to his sad Red Mummah sob to herself until he drifted off to sleep under the dirty porch.
~~
“Landon, the reports?”
Great. Garret Landon had hoped and prayed that the meeting would drone long enough for him to be saved by the clock. Now he had ten pairs of expectant eyes glistening at him in the sterile conference room. He stood and paused, unwilling to break the bad news. He coughed and shuffed his papers. Blank papers, save for a one-page report of Phyllis and Benson’s failed brokering.
“Despite all, ahem,” he had to collect himself; Mrs. Baker always unnerved him, “…despite all attempts this month, we are not seeing any improved cognition, comprehension, or social attributes in non-mutant Point Oh prototypes.”
The silence crashed against his temples. Eyes darted from him to the back of the table. Beads of sweat formed on all foreheads. A single tongue clicked in regular rhythm.
“We will continue our endeavors, however we appear to be stymied by biological limitat-”
“It’s fine Garret, we all have hit our own hitches in this project. Surely you remember that one incident with Keith, no? My work, too, was and is, imperfect. You may sit down.” A thousand chalices rang through her voice, so graceful in nature and transparent in its emotions. Garret looked into the long-eyelashed visage of the woman at the far end of the table. Her beauty was hypnotizing. One could get lost in the cascading waves of blue her ponytail naturally fell into as it made its way over her shoulders and down her back, or the sparkling amethyst eyes that seemed to have an infinite depth to them.
Fury took hold in Garret. For too long he had droned on in meaningless assignments for Hasbio, never respected or seen as a true contributor to the company, to science at large, to life. He wasn’t content with his supervisor being unable to pick him out as cream of the crop from the other failures working on Point Oh.
He decided to press his luck.
“I did reach out to a former associate of the company. A scientist,” Garret began, his heart pounding, “I was hoping her…” oh how he did not want to give it away, “…expertise on the matter would he-”
Garret’s bumbling was cut off by a sharp gust of air from his left side. He turned to see a pen embedded in the drywall behind him. He heard the creaking of his superior’s chair as she stood to her full, terrifying height.
“Garret Landon. First you come to me with no results. That’s fine, this is a monument of work we’re all undertaking. Then you imply that my work a decade ago is too limiting for modern advances. That too, is fine. I’m used to the criticism,” the woman straightened out her neck, eyes near-glowing from their six-foot, six-inch perch, “However, what happened with Mrs. Barkley was a tragedy. We cannot infringe upon her rights as a human, cannot infringe upon her rights to privacy. Do you understand?”
Garret looked at his hands in defeat.
“…Yes Mrs. Baker.”
“Good. Meeting adjourned. Apologies for the tension folks, but it’s part and parcel with our deeds,” she gave a gruff man to her left a light punch, “Geoff here was there for the first alicorn foal. Couldn’t look him in the eye for a week once he saw that debacle.”
The room erupted into laughter. Ten giddy executives and team leaders at the top of Hasbio Headquarters, and one quiet and sulking neurologist. He collected his files and left the conference room.
Unfortunately, someone caught up with him.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you like that,” Mrs. Baker’s words were wrapped kindly and delivered genuinely. Human, for someone so synonymous with the corporate world.
“No, I shouldn’t have pursued her, and even then she’s…” Garret struggled for words. Baker stayed quiet a moment before patting him on the back.
“Point Oh will be a success, and you’ll be remembered for years, Doctor Landon,” she reassured him, “We must build on our success, not wallow in subpar satisfaction.” She stopped at her office door, opened it, and paused, “You know, Margaret and you should meet with Michelle and I for dinner sometime. It would be nice.”
Garret bit his tongue and stared at her office door as it closed behind her.
Yeah, nice he sarcastically remarked to himself. The words on her office door filled him with disgust. He always felt that Hasbio deserved a better CEO than the bubbly, scatterbrained, half-failure Biologist Lead, Lena Baker.