“Shhhh, babbehs.”
The three had stopped crying for a while, but couldn’t help but look at the dead body in their midst til they heard an unfamiliar voice above them. One hoof, two legs, a whole fluffy came into the hole with them. The biggest fluffy, brown and warm.
“Bawk hewe fow hewp babbehs.”
“Pwease take fwuffy!”
“No wan stay hewe! So scawy!”
“Su meanie! Fwuffy scawed!”
The toughie hugged them, listening to them sob and tell them about the past few days. About the mean smarty who had everything but wouldn’t share. Who could give them forever sleepies. Who hit them when they complained.
“Oooh, scawy,” he said, nodding his head.
The three weanlings agreed.
“Cum, howd on tu Bawk’s fwuff,” he said, putting them on his back. “No wet go, no mattah what.”
They went down the hill, passing by trees and bushes, over logs, through a shit-filled clearing, til the treeline came to an end and human houses appeared. The almost colt and near fillies felt their eyes grow wide, never knowing any of it existed.
Twig and Fern joined up with Bark, the babies looking back at the scouts.
“Wead on.”
Past the chain link fence, onto the concrete sidewalk and down the street, Fern and Twig lead Bark to a light blue house with a tall, dark man reading a paper with coffee on the porch.
“Well, hello you two,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Brought friends with you I see.”
“Hewwo nice mishtah.”
“And who is this pretty lady? With three foals?”
Bark looked at him. “No am mawe. Am stawwion.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! Do you have a name? My name is Anthony.”
“Am Bawk.”
“So, are these your babies?”
“Nu, nu am. Foun’ dese babbehs in howe.”
Anthony’s eyebrows piqued. “A hole, you say? Where is your mother, babies?”
“No hab mama,” Red said.
“No mama…,” chirped Blue.
Yellow just looked down, exhausted.
“Huh… well, let me get something for the little ones to eat then.”
Bark, Fern and Twig watched as Anthony went into the house, talking to someone in there. A few minutes later a little black girl came out, setting down a bowl of milk. The brown toughie lay down, letting the weanlings get off his back and trudge to the milk.
They looked at it.
They sniffed it.
Red licked it. Then again. And again.
“Miwkies!” he proclaimed, diving back in.
“Stay back and let them eat, Michelle,” Anthony said to the little girl. She nodded, giggling, as he walked out of the house with his wife, very clearly pregnant.
“Bawk no can take cawe ob dese babbehs… am stawwion, no am mawe. Can nice mistuh An-ton-ee be nyu daddeh?”
“Well,” he started, his wife playfully slapping him on the arm.
“I think we can do that for these three.”
Cabbage watched from a distance, looking through the window of Mr. Anthony’s house. Some time had passed, and he could see the babies from the hole weren’t babies anymore but were turning into a fine looking colt and fillies. They never left the house, and he couldn’t see them unless they were by a window facing the forest. Sometimes he’d catch the blue one looking out into the forest, almost like she was remembering something, but would turn shaking her head before leaving.
As he walked down the street saw another human with sheets of paper, stapling them to fences and poles. He hid, watching her. The human mare looked sad as she did it.
The paper had human drawing on them that he couldn’t read, but it had a familiar face.
“Wittle mama?”
She jumped, surprised, til she realized it was a fluffy. But not her fluffy. Coughing into her hand, she presented a flier to Cabbage.
“Have you seen this fluffy?” she asked.
“Yesh,” Cabbage said. “Sowwy, he go fowebah sweepies.”
She looked down, sniffling. The green earthie walked up to her, huggin the child’s leg.
“Vaniwwa was Cabbage’s fwen. Gon miss Vaniwwa.”
“You were friends with Vanilla?”
“Yes… Vaniwwa wub wittwe mama suuuu much… onwy t’ing dat made Vaniwwa happeh.”
She sat down on the ground with a thump, clinging tightly to Cabbage as they mourned together.
The hole had been filled back up, Vanilla buried underneath. Jade brought him flowers and some fruit nummies even though he couldn’t eat them. She knew it, but it made the hurting feel better and worse rather than just worse.
“How Smawty? Bark asked, walking up behind her.
“Smawty no hewe. Smawty no wan cum back.”
“No toughie hewe, eithaw.”
Bark nuzzled up against his special friend. Swollen eyes looked at the night sky, the small human town blanketed in darkness and stars.
“How wong did yu knu?” Bark asked, wrapping his legs around her.
“Awways knu.”
“Vaniwwa wuz wast babbeh hewe…”
“Jay-duh wike dat name. Vaniwwa.”
“Bawk wundah how owange babbeh an’ pink babbeh du?”
“Jay-duh dunno… but dew wuz gud babbehs. Gud house-fwuffies.”
“Bawk miss puw-pul cowt.”
Jade pulled tightly against Bark’s leg. “Wai dis hab su hawd?”
“Cause Jay-duh iz good fwuffy an’ good smawty… now wike da oldesht way ob gibin’ pwetteh babbies fowebah sweepies.”
“Suuu heawt huwties.”
“Bawk knu.”
“Dees pwetteh babies,” she said, looking at the sky. “Wike fai-ah-woks… su pwetteh, but go so fas’… no stay…”
“What hoomins caww woudest night?”
“Joo-wy.”
“Joo-wy babehs…”