“Babbehs eat.”
It had been an hour since the three weanlings woke up. They spent most of it crying and Smarty telling them to be quiet. Jade had food for herself but couldn’t bring herself to look at it. Instead she held a branch with her mouth, lowering it into the hole. The leaves were more yellow than green, dry from a harsh summer.
The blue filly sniffed it, looking meekly at the sad nummies.
“Nu… nu smeww pwetteh…” she whined, opening her mouth. As her jaw came together the branch was rushed upward out of the hole.
“Eeep!”
“Nu smeww pwetteh? Dummeh babbeh, dat no mattah!”
“Hab nummies pwease?”
“Pwease hab nummies?”
“NU!” Smarty yelled. “Dat wha’ hab. Knu what ewse no smeww pwetteh? Habin’ nuffin’ fow num.”
Mouths hung agape, watching Smarty strip the leaves from the branch hungrily.
“Mabbeh Smawty feew nice an’ fin’ sumtin’ ewse fow babbehs,” she said, walking off. “Mabbeh no bodda.”
When she was sure she was far enough from the hole that the weanlings couldn’t hear her, Jade vomited up the leaves while crying.
Cabbage watched Vanilla hobble around the yard, his front-left leg in a splint. His meanie daddy deposited him alone, going back into the house without so much as a word said.
“Fwen!” he hissed.
“Nu… nu come! Daddeh madsies!” Vanilla said, hushed. “Vaniwwa make daddeh madsies… am bad fwuffy!”
The bush shook. “Whu dummeh said Vaniwwa bad fwuffy? Gib dummeh sowwy hoovesies!”
“Nuu! Nuu!” the house fluff pleaded. “Daddeh mad! No gib daddeh sowwy hoovesies! Vaniwwa’s fauwt! Aww Vaniwwa’s fauwt!”
“Yu daddeh bad! Wook at weggie!” Cabbage growled. “Cabbage saw yu daddeh gib yu wowstest huwties!”
“Vaniwwa was bein’ bad! Pwease no make daddeh mad!”
“Fwuffy no am fow baww!”
Vanilla sat, stunned.
“Yu daddeh bad, Vaniwwa. No desewb Vaniwwa. No desewb wittwe mama.”
The white stallion looked down, pacing in place anxiously. Daddy was meaning, but not always. Not always! He wasn’t bad. Was he? Please don’t be bad, daddy…
“If yu daddeh awways dwinkin’ meanie wawa and hit Vaniwwa, how wong tiww he yeww at yu wittwe mama? How wong tiww he gib huwties?”
Vanilla yiped at hearing that, running as fast as he could to the dog house he slept in. Plunging headlong into it, all that could be seen was his tail darting back and forth from the entrance.
Cabbage huffed in rage, eyes burning a hole through the porch door.
Summer’s evening was late in coming, as usual but Fern and Twig ran quickly regardless. While they had loaded Cabbage up with nummies, there were more important things on their minds.
“Bawk! Bawk!” Twig said when the toughie was in sight.
“No yeww,” he said, eying the three. “Whatchu want?”
Fern panted a bit before replying. “Was by hoomin housie wookin’ fow tings and hoomin came wunnin’ out.”
“Su?”
“Dey made funneh noisey doh…” Twig gasped. “Pssssh, psssssh, pssssssh.”
“Den say ‘hea kitteh-kitteh.”
Bark’s gut dropped but he didn’t show it. “Kitteh munstah get out of hoomin housie?”
“Tink so.”
“T’ank yu,” Jade sighed, looking at Bark and Cabbage.
“Su, Jay-duh gon’ stay hewe? No am safe.”
“Nebah iz, doh.”
“Smawteh,” Cabbage moaned. “No wan babbehs cum munstah nummies.”
“Dats wai yu hewe. But Cabbage gotta be qui-et so bebbehs no heaw yu.”
“Cabbage scawe babbehs?”
“No wowwy ‘bout it, Cabbage,” Bark said. “Onwy wook out fow kitten munstah. If yu see den yeww, but no twy fight.”
The toughie looked down, feeling a bit useless. “If no can fight den wai hewe?”
“Cause bebbehs,” Jade pointed up the hill where the hole was. “Obah dewe.”
