You wake up and immediately regret it. This is the worst pain of your entire existence, you feel quite sure of that. Worse than when the invisible monster bit your neck, worse than when the yellow-black stripey buzzy thing gave you owies on your nosie, worse than when you… it’s just worse. Period. There is nothing in your entire life that can compare to the degree of agony you’re feeling right now.
You moan and look around. Only one eye is working right now. You’re inside the hidey place. How did you get back here? Oscar looms into view above you.
“Fwuffy otay? Oscaw hewp fwuffy in hidey pwace, wick boo-boo joos off fwuffy, gif huggies to make betta. Fwuffy stiww haf owies?”
You moan again and close your eyes.
“Chiwpy babbeh? Chiwpy babbeh otay? Fwuffy safe babbeh?”
“Yes! Fiwwy am safe now! Fwuffy safe hew! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy, gud hewd weadew, kiww munsta! Oscaw pwoud uf fwuffy!”
You don’t care if Oscar likes you, you’re just glad you saved the baby. Being a good herd leader, that’s what’s important. You were a terrible herd leader, not like big brother, and because of that, the monster got the little chirpy baby. But you saved the baby. You killed the monster. Maybe… maybe you’re not such a bad herd leader after all? If Oscar thinks you’re a good herd leader, then maybe you are one. If only you didn’t hurt so much.
“How wong… fwuffy… sweep?” You’re not saying your words right, like big brother taught you. You hurt too much to bother.
“Oscaw dun nu. Bwight times cum… twee times? Dawk times… two times? Fwuffy sweep wong time, Oscaw wowwy take fowevah sweepies!”
Three days? You slept three days? You must be more badly hurt than you thought.
“Oscaw keep giffin huggies tu fwuffy, hewp fwuffy nu be huwties! Oscaw… Oscaw take way fwuffies poopies too. Nu smeww gud. Nu taste gud. But Oscaw hewp.”
Oscar took your poopies out of the hidey place while you slept? Huh.
“Oscaw… am gud fwuffy.”
“Weawwy? Yay! Oscaw am gud fwuffy!”
You try to stand and fail. You bop your nosie and mouth on the floor of the hidey place when you fall, but everything else hurts so badly you barely even notice. Oscar stands up in concern, and you rise on your shakey legs, determined not to fall again. You have to be strong. The herd needs you to be strong. You look around, disoriented by only seeing with one eye, and find the mummah and her babies. The mummah is watching you, obviously worried about your owies; both babies are nursing, and the little blue filly seems none the worse for wear from having a monster nearly eat her.
“Fwuffies… Hewd nee weave hidey place. Nu am safe hewe nu mowe. Bad munsta fine hidey pwace once, annuva munsta can fine hidey pwace. Nee fine bettah hidey pwace, fine mowe fwuffies fow hewd. Fowwow fwuffy.”
You dizzily leave the hidey place, glad to be able to crawl on your belly while going under the bush, then get back to your feet again, trying not to fall. You hurt so much, and you just want to lay down and go to sleep again. But you have to be strong. The herd needs you. They need you to be a good herd leader, and a good herd leader doesn’t let owies prevent him from protecting the herd. This hidey place isn’t safe anymore; you need to find another herd, soon.
Oscar quickly pops out of the bush behind you, followed by the mummah. She’s carrying the little blue pointy filly in her mouth. The red colt, you notice proudly, makes it out of the hidey place on his own, puffing with the effort. The mummah puts both babies on her back, and you lead the way. First, you need wawa, badly. Then you need some nummies to give you your strength back. You’ll feel better then.
You fall once on the way to the wawa place, and force yourself back on your feet. You’re afraid that if you fall again, you won’t get up.
You have to be strong. For your herd.
Several days have passed. You don’t hurt nearly as much and you can move your leggie and neck without wincing in pain, but your sight never comes back in one eye. You suspect the eye itself is gone and not swollen shut like you first thought.
But you’ve eaten and drunk your fill every day since you woke up, and while you’re still not in the best condition, you’re better now. You have to be strong. The herd needs you to be strong. You’re not as smart and strong as big brother, but you were the one he relied on most, and now your herd is relying on you. You have to keep them safe, and that means finding more fluffies. There’s safety in numbers.
You stop and look around. The ground is soft here. You think… those look like hoofprints? You sniff the ground. That… might be the faint scent of fluffies. Maybe they came through here a day or two ago. You search the area thoroughly, posting Oscar to keep guard over the mummah and babies, and eventually you find some poopies.
Definitely fluffies. Your heart races. A new herd! And you know which way they went!
“Follow fluffy, herd!”
You tremble in terror. Smarty is angry. Both his toughies are acting big and mean too. Smarty’s dummy brother is prancing around gleefully, being meanie. If Smarty wasn’t the herd smarty, Smarty’s brother would be smarty. And Smarty’s brother is even more terrifying than Smarty, so you’re glad Smarty keeps him under control… most of the time. Smarty is mean when he’s angry, but Smarty’s brother delights in being a meanie.
Now, Smarty and his toughies have gathered the herd around them in a circle. Smarty is sniffing at the green, chirping… you shudder, not wanting to look at it. It’s not right. Not natural.
“Dis am bad babbeh! Smawty teww hewd, nu hide bad babbehs! Smawty an his toughies make bad babbehs gu squish! Gif fowevaw sweepies! Bad, dummeh babbehs steaw miwkies fwum gud babbehs! Bu dis babbeh… dis babbeh am wowse dan bad babbeh! Wowse dan dummeh babbeh! Dis babbeh… am munstah!”
Several fluffies gasp. A mummah covers her babbehs’ eyes with her hooves so they don’t look at the monster baby.
“Smawty nu am happy! Munsta’s mummah hide bad babbeh fwum Smawty! She tink Smawty nu fine bad, munsta babbeh! But Smawty am smawt! Smawty fine munstah babbeh! An naow, Smawty gif munstah babbeh wonges sweepies!”
You are Smarty. You’re pissed. Incensed. Enraged. You are literally seeing red, you’re so angry. The herd knows the rules. They obey the rules, or you and your toughies give them owies. Most of the herd’s mummahs know that bad babbehs are bad babbehs and reject them; they give them to you to get rid of. That’s your job. But this one’s mummah… She was a dummeh. She tried to keep her bad babbeh. Her MUNSTA babbeh. It’s an abomination. Its existence threatens the very order of things. You know your duty as Smarty is to get rid of it.
Besides, giving forever sleepies to this munsta babbeh is almost… pleasurable. You kick the bad babbeh and it cheeps in distress. You kick it again and it cries for its mummah. But its mummah isn’t going to save it, is she? Its mummah can’t hide it from you any longer. You smile as you stomp on the bad babbeh, grind your hoofsie into its ribs, and slowly lean into it, enjoying its panicked chirping, you can feel its tiny ribs right at the breaking point…
“LEAVE BABY ALONE!”
Startled, you look around and take a step back from the munsta.
“Whoo say dat? Whoo am teww Smawty wha du?”
“LEAVE BABY ALONE!”
The voice came from that direction. You stomp your hoofsie (not on the munsta babbeh, unfortunately) and puff your cheeks intimidatingly. Both your toughies do the same.
“Dummeh fwuffy! Nu wun teww Smawty wh du! Yoo cum hewe! Yoo cum hewe so Smawty can gif yoo bigges owies!”
The fluffies in front of you part, scrambling back, in awe of the one who would dare defy you. And how DARE he! You’re Smarty! You do what you want and no one tells… you… oh my.
Striding toward you is the biggest fluffy you have ever seen in your life. A massive, strong-looking monochrome fluffy. A battle-scarred stallion with one gaping eye socket and one glaring green eye, and the longest, pointiest horn you’ve ever seen. He’s stomping his way right toward you. And he looks PISSED.
You barely hear or feel the scaredy poopies squirting out of your body like cheese whiz. You realize you’ve made some sort of horrible mistake, but you can’t imagine what it was. You open your mouth to say something to the big, angry, red stallion, but then he slams you into the ground. You taste boo-boo joos. One of your toughies charges him and he kicks the toughie with both back hoovsies; your toughie rolls across the ground several times, then stops. He doesn’t get up. Your other toughie backs off, making scaredy poopies of his own. Your brother, where’s your-
It’s the most horrible owies you’ve ever felt, as your weggie snaps. The big, red stallion stomped it. You scream and say you’re sorry, you beg, you cry, you try to get away… He stomps another weggie.
He takes a very long time to thoroughly break every part of your body and slowly beat you to death in front of the entire herd, glaring at you with that single green, hateful orb the whole time.
