Runny
If you’re completely honest, this bright-time isn’t that bad, all things considered.
It’s quite warm, even though the cold-times shouldn’t be too far away now. Not so warm you need to hang out under a tree to be comfortable, only to feel safe. It helps there’s no breezie-monsters running about, not even baby ones. You haven’t seen any sky-fluffies or sky-monsters either, not yet at least. Though, you’re starting to think there aren’t such things as sky-fluffies, that they’re all in fact sky-monsters. What everyone calls sky-fluffies are probably just monsters that don’t feel like hurting anyone just then.
That’s a funny idea. What kind of argument would you start if you said that out loud, if this was a bright-time at the herd, when you felt like saying stupid things. But it’s not one of those bright-times, you’re trapped in this place with mostly fluffies, watched over by humans and fluffies working with humans for some reason!
So you don’t feel like talking, not at unless it’s about how to escape or trying to make your babbies feel better. Thinking about them, you raise your head slightly and take a closer look; they’re still there, playing with Ricky and Olive’s babbies. Alright, “playing” might not be the right word but it’s the closest any of them have gotten in a long time. You watch them push strange rocks around with their hoofies, and sometimes their heads.
Again, “rocks” probably, no, definitely aren’t the right word for these things. Sure, you’ve seen rocks with a round shape before, but none as round as these. You never saw any with the same colour as a fluffy, or one even half your size that a fluffy, let alone a big baby’s could hope to push around! According to Ricky these aren’t rocks (obviously) but “balls.” You’re not sure if they’re related to the sky-ball, neither does Ricky nor anyone else you’ve asked. Not that you’ve actually asked many fluffies; it’s not something that worries you, anyway.
You’ve got other, much bigger and worse things to worry about; there’s just no way out of this place. You’ve walked around and around the strange wall and haven’t found a single place to squeeze under. There’s no where to climb up and jump over either but with how high this strange wall is, even if there was such a place, well…
No, it looks like the only way out is through the same spot the humans use to get in and out. You’ve thought about ducking out when the humans do that, but they’re too smart for that. You haven’t once seen the humans open the wall when a fluffy not on their side was anywhere close. Digging your way out seems like the only option left, and it’s terrible.
You’ve watched groups of fluffies try, but it never works. They hardly get anything done before a human, usually the really big one, comes over to chase them away. Then, whatever hole those fluffies managed to make gets filled in. Maybe if everyone dug at the same time there’d be a chance, but most wouldn’t get out. How could you convince everyone to work together if only a few could escape? You probably wouldn’t.
‘Sigh…’
Dropping your head, you try to think about something other than how hopeless things seem. There’s not much better to focus on, though. You can’t spent long wondering how the others are before you get too scared or sad. Thinking about why those fluffies on the humans’ side do what they do makes you mad, so usually you focus on the other fluffiest. You watch them wander about, but don’t spend time wondering what they’re doing. You already know or can guess pretty close, and thinking about it just makes you feel worse than-
‘Wunnie!’
Snapping out of it you raise your head and look at Ricky; ‘Wat?’ You couldn’t keep the scardies out of your voice even if you tried.
‘Wickie was jus twyin tawkies,’ he says. ‘Wunnie jus sit dewe wookin at babbehs, ow nuting.’
He’s not wrong there. Still, ‘Wai wan tawkies? Dewe nu am ting to tawkies boud,’ you drop your head again, but it doesn’t reach the ground before Ricky speaks;
‘Dewe awways tings to tawkies boud. Wike, wat am gun du…’
‘Wat am gun du?’ You don’t like the sound of that… ‘Du boud wat?’
Ricky looks at you a moment then sighs. ‘Wunnie shud knu. Wunnie wook fow way tu scape, an yu nu find any.’
…You really don’t like the sound of this.
‘Fwuffies nu can find way tu get oud, so… So nee tawkies boud wat am gun du nao.’
You stare at Ricky, many ways to answer flying through your thinkie-place, none of them quite right. ‘Wat Wickie mean?’ The wordies come out slowly, mostly without any maddies but you couldn’t keep them all out.
Ricky swallows before he answers, another bad sign; ‘Wickie mean, nee tawkies boud doing wat hoomins wan fwuffies do.’
One moment you’re lying on your tummy next to Sky; now you’re looming over Ricky, maddies surging through your body. If not for all those maddies, you’d be shocked at how quickly it happened. ‘Wat yu say?’ Ricky’s hear places flatten against his head but he doesn’t back down. ‘W-wook, dewe nu am way dat fwuffies can get oud. Wunnie wook ewey bwight-time an nu find any!’ You try to answer, more like yell and scream, but so many things spring up in your thinkie-place they pile up and can’t get out. Ricky takes the chance to keep going.
‘Dese hoomins, day nu am meanies. Day nu am wike hoomins dat huwt hewd! Day am wike hoomins dat Wickie an fwends wive with.’
If he meant that to be assuring, then Ricky really is a dummy. Did he forget the part where those “nice humans” he lived with took their babbies? Their babbies!! How could he-
‘Wickie nu knu wat hoomins wan du wif fwuffies, bud nu tink id am bad ting,’ Ricky says, looking less scared than just a moment ago. ‘Nu can get oud of dis pwace, so maybe shud jus-’
It happens too fast for you to stop yourself but you wouldn’t have tried anyway. Your hoofie strikes out, hitting Ricky in the middle of his face. He yelps, shrinking back and bringing up his leggies. You want to say something, more like scream in Ricky’s face, but nothing comes out. Nothing can come out, there’s just too many maddies.
‘Speciaw-fwend!’ Olive rushes to Ricky’s side, joined soon after by a couple of their babbies.
‘Wunnie, nu!’ You really must have lost control; Sky never calls you by your name unless she thinks nothing else can get through. Sky tries to pull you away from Ricky and the others. ‘Nu giv dem huwties! Day nu waned-’
Whatever Sky wants to say is probably right, but you don’t care and don’t want to hang around any longer. Turning to the side, you slip between Sky and the others and head away from the tree. ‘Speciaw-fwend? Wunnie!’
‘Daddeh! Wait!!’
One of your babbies starts after you, but Sky calls them back. Smart, you’re hardly in the mood for talking, even to them and it’ll be a while before you are. Maddies raging, you make straight for the strange wall and start walking alongside it. Even if there’s no escape to be found there it can at least calm you down. Maybe not this time, though.
Just what is Ricky thinking?
Trust these humans because he thinks they’re like the ones he used to know? The humans that took their babbies away to do who knows what with? You’d rather eat your no-no stick and special-lumps than let your babbies go with anyone. Especially humans!! You’ll never let humans take them, ever! Even if it meant never leaving this place, you won’t let it happen.
You’ll do anything, anything to stop that.
No one, fluffy or otherwise approaches you on your trip around the strange wall. That’s good, if they did you’d probably yell. maybe even try to fight them. All you get, occasionally, is a sense of being watched, but that doesn’t put you out like it normally would.
Escape, that’s the only thing you can seriously consider, and there has to be a way! Even if it’s small, hard to find and harder to even do, there must be a way! There just has to be; you can’t accept anything else. Ricky can’t be right, he can’t even be close to right.
He, just can’t be.
XX
You spent a long time walking alongside the wall, much longer than you planned; you were so caught up in your thoughts about, everything to pay much attention. You only realised it was getting dark when the big human called out; ‘Alright, everyone back in the barn. Come on, hurry!’
Looking up you noticed everyone heading back to the big den, what the big human kept calling a “barn,” whatever that means. Not wanting to draw that human’s attention you joined in, heading straight for your small spot inside. Sky and the babbies were already there. Your babbies came over and hugged you, but Sky stood apart, not looking at you directly. She was upset about what happened between you and Ricky; you knew that would happen, but how could you have controlled yourself in that situation? Even Daddeh would have landed some sorry hoofies. Big Red would have gone much further…
For now, she and the babbies are sleeping on the nestie, and you’re in the corner opposite. You started off on the fluff pile for the babbies’ sake, but left once they were asleep. She didn’t say so, but you know when Sky wants or needs you be away. ‘Sigh’ This feels icky; you’ll have to talk about what happened earlier, maybe fight about it. Ricky and Olive are the only friends you have here, and that means a lot to Sky. It’s no surprise you hitting Ricky, for whatever reason would make her mad.
Anyway, you’ll just have to deal with it, take whatever mean wordies and sorry hoofie you have coming and get back to what matters. No matter how impossible escape seems, you can’t bring yourself to give up on escape completely. Certainly not after what Ricky said.
Sleepies don’t come for a long while, all the thoughts and feelings keeping you awake far longer than you’d normally stay awake. Slowly, though, it happens. Your see-places get heavier, harder to keep open. You start yawning more, and drop your head to the floor. Not long after your see-places close, and you settle into sleep. In the last moments though, you’re sure you can hear soft hoof steps from the other side of the wall.
Smarty
Same as it’s been for the past few of bright-times you, Leaf and the most trusted Next-bestest toughies walk up front with the brown lookie-fluffy. Leaf walks next to him, Hoofie on the other side, you and the others not far behind. The brown lookie-fluffy’s done as he promised so far, guiding the herd and not running away or leading you into a trap, so far, anyway. He’s done a good job too, leading the herd around places that would have been too hard to get through.
No doubt, the brown lookie-fluffy is good at what he does, probably one of the best ever. Why’d he have to listen to Rock?
‘Nee go dis way, nao,’ he says to Leaf.
‘Nu tawkies, Jus du id,’ Leaf says back, voice sharp. The brown lookie-fluffy flinches and does as he says, turning toward a gap between two bushie patches. It’s a squeeze, not too bad but you don’t want to think what could happen if something attacked the herd now. For not the first time you wonder if the lookie-fluffy is playing a trick, leading you or maybe everyone into a trap. There’s no guarantee he’s not; all you know is you’ll make absolutely sure the brown lookie-fluffy goes forever-sleepies if he is.
Then again, lookie-fluffies have always been odd, same with all fluffies with speical jobs. They know how to get from one place in the forest to another, even if they’re very far apart but couldn’t tell you how to do it yourself, even if they tried. So, these strange turns and narrow places might, might just be normal after-all. If you could just trust him like you did before…
‘Am Smawty tinkin boud sumtin?’ A soft voice asks from the side.
‘Nu,’ you tell the next-bestest toughie. ‘Jus keep watchin dat fwuffy.’ You say, nodding at the lookie-fluffy. Every next-bestest toughie has been told the same thing; watch the brown lookie-fluffy and don’t give him a chance to run away. The regular toughies though, well, that’s were it gets tricky; more than a few have asked questions about why he’s back all of a sudden.
You haven’t answered one of them, and made it clear it’s not something to talk about.
You can only hope the herd stays too focused on reaching safety to bother asking questions about the lookie-fluffy. That would lead to more questions, and needing to admit you lied about quite a few things. And, why the lies were needed. You can’t avoid it forever, especially once you reach the new safe-place, assuming it’s real, and things settle down.
The cold-times are long, and there’s not much to do except talk.
That’ll all be for later, though. There’s plenty to focus on in the here and now; finding the new safe-place for one, and even closer than that…
‘Smawty, hewd nee stahp soon,’ another toughie says. ‘Gun nee wawa an nummies.’
You nod, and walk to the front. ‘Yu, find pwace hewd can stahp fow wawa an nummies,’ The brown lookie-fluffy opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. ‘Nao, dummeh.’
‘Fine,’ the brown lookie-fluffy turns his face from you, a few moments later saying ‘Dis way,’ turning in a new direction. You’re still a long, long way off trusting him again, if ever, but you have to admit the brown lookie-fluffy is good. In almost no time at all, you’ve arrived at a long-water. Not a big one but the water looks clean and there’s enough for all the herd. Plus, there are enough bushies and what look like ground-nummies.
‘Otay, hewd can stahp hewe. Yu tuffies, make suwe nuting cum neaw hewd. Hoofie, Weaf,’ you say ‘stay hewe with Smawty an make suwe dah wookie-fwuffy nu wun way.’
‘Yes Smawty,’ Leaf says. Hoofie just nods, staring at the lookie-fluffy. You think
‘Nu am gun tawkies tu famiwy?’ The lookie-fluffy says, while not looking your way. ‘Am jus gun stay an-’
You walk over and stare the lookie-fluffy down. ‘Nu Tawkies boud Smawty’s famiwy. Ewa.’ He doesn’t cower much, but his hear places flatten and he shuts up. That’ll be good enough. Taking a step back you settle in for the wait. It won’t take long for the herd to fix their tummy and thirsty-hurties; everyone’s gotten good at it after being on the move for such a long time. That doesn’t mean they like it, though.
‘Smawty,’
‘Wat?’
‘Hoofie nee get wawa.’
Oh, of course. ‘Otay. Weaf, yu go when Hoofie am back.’
‘Weaf undewstan,’ he says as Hoofie gets up and leaves. Just in case the lookie-fluffy gets any ideas, other next-bestest toughies come over to stand guard. If nothing else, you’ve made sure he never forgets you’re watching him all the time. Time passes without much happening; Hoofie comes back from the long-water, and Leaf goes to fix his thirsty-hurties, and do what ever else he needs to.
These are the parts you hate the most, the resting; because, this isn’t’ really resting. Sure, for most of the herd it is, but you and the toughies need to stay alert for anything. Absolutely anything. There’s no shortage to what can hurt you out here.
‘Smawty,’
You turn towards the toughie. ‘Wat?’
‘Ewyting am stiww otay,’ he says. ‘Aww hewd am gettin wawa an nummies, an tuffies nu heaw ow see anyting scawy.’
So far so good. There’s been no sign of those barkie monsters or other monsters in the bright-times since leaving the big den. Not yet, anyway. ‘Keep wookin,’ you tell him. ‘Id nu am safe oud hewe.’
‘Yes, Smawty,’ the toughie leaves to check everyone’s keeping up the watch, leaving you to help guard the lookie-fluffy and wait for your turn to get nummies and water. You just hope Leaf doesn’t take too long, the walk so far has left you with plenty of thirsty-hurties. Also, it would be nice to have the distraction for a little while. Being out in the forest again with nothing to hide in or behind hasn’t been good for your scardies.
The big den wasn’t perfect, not even particularly good if you’re honest, but it at least let you relax a little. You don’t get that out here, not even fro a moment. You can never shake the feeling of being watching from everywhere at once and… Is it you, or is the forest more quiet than usual?
‘Smawty? Wat am wong?’
You turn to Leaf as he walks up from behind. ‘Huh? Wai Weaf ask dat?’
‘Cause yu wook wike tink sumtin am wong.’
Oh. ‘Nu, nu tink anyting am wong.’ You tell him. ‘Am jus case nu am in-’
bang-crack
Every bit of fluff you have stand on end, and you’re not to proud to admit your poopie pwace twitches. At once, everyone in the herd goes quiet, not even a whisper or murmur. Moments pass before you dare speak. ‘Dat… D-dat was-’
bang-crack
‘F-fowewa-sweepies stick…’ Leaf looks well and truly scared, but no one could blame him for that.
‘Id, id cum fwom dat way.’ You turn to the next-bestest toughie, who points in the direction he means. ‘Dat way.’
‘Id nu was woud,’ someone else offers. ‘A-an, dat mean id am-’
‘Hewd nee weave, nao,’ you get up, thirsty and other hurties forgotten. ‘Aww tuffies make hewd weady tu go. Nao.’ You turn to Hoofie and the lookie-fluffy; both have already gotten up and the lookie-fluffy’s expression at least shows he knows how serious this is.
‘Hewd go back dat way,’ he points back the direction you came. ‘Den can keep goin tu-’
‘Du id,’ you say before he can finish. Even if you don’t trust him, would he really try to drive the herd into a bunch of humans? The lookie-fluffy nods, and with Hoofie and Leaf close by leads the way back. The herd, scared but managing to stay quiet follows close behind with the toughies around and behind. Soon the entire herd is moving out, away from the danger.
You hope.
bang-crack
That sounded further away than the first few, but ‘Ewyone keep goin. Nu stahp movin tiww Smawty an tuffies say.’ Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear but not so that the humans (its always humans that use those sorry sticks) notice is tricky, and you won’t know you got it right until, until… ‘Keep, goin.’ Breaking out into a run is the only option, if it comes to that. It hasn’t yet, though…
bang-crack
‘Dat one nu was woud wike odas,’ Hoofie whispers.
‘Am gettin way fwom, id?’ Someone out of view asks. The brown lookie-fluffy answers before anyone else can.
‘Yes, am gettin way. Woud tings nu am woud when am wong way way.’ You let him explain to the toughie who asked and anyone else listening, just for now. He does know what he’s talking about, to be fair, and it’s not like him answering that question could cause problems. Still, just in case he gets ideas…
‘Nu mowe tawkies,’ you tell everyone, lingering on the brown lookie-fluffy for a moment longer than anyone else. Point made, hopefully, you focus back on the path ahead, listening for the forever-sleepies sorry stick or other signs humans are near. While you do that, Leaf and Hoofie have the brown lookie-fluffy guide the herd. The rest of your toughies do their best to keep everyone safe and as calm as possible.
Still, you hear plenty of scared mutters and crying. You know the crying is from mostly little fluffies, that they’ve already been through so, so much, and it’s not their fault they’re crying. You also know none of that matters when you’re running from humans. ‘Nu tawkies! Nu make noise!’ You say, loud as you dare. Toughies pass it down the line and thankfully everyone listens. The muttering stops, so does most of the crying. That’s got to be enough.
Long, terrifying moments pass by, each filled with the danger humans will appear to finish what they started. It’s the worst kind of scardies, where all you can do is keep going and be ready to act if the bad thing happens. But as the moments pass, nothing does; no more sounds from the human’s sorry sticks, no humans either.
That doesn’t mean you’re safe, far from it.
Hard as it’ll be on the herd, you need to keep going.
Tree
You like walking at the back of the line.
Well, maybe “like” isn’t the right word; it feels strange, almost wrong to say you “like” anything now. There’s no time or energy to be liking things, between keeping everyone safe in the bright-time and the dark-time, helping find nummies and water, searching for the rest of the herd, and…
There’s, still nothing out of the ordinary you can hear, hasn’t been for a while now. No, the forest still sounds like the forest. No reason to be worried, no reason to fight, or talk to the others, especially, Big Red. If it had been him, he would have charged at that kitty monster, no question. He was, after all, right there; you just did what had to be done faster than he did. If Big Red thinks there’s a problem with that, that’s on him.
What does think you should have done, anyway? Has he forgotten what being a toughie is about? You fight bad fluffies and monsters and other scary things so they won’t get close enough to hurt the herd. So they can’t get to the babbies, and soon mummahs, and older fluffies, and fluffies who don’t know how to fight. What good is a toughie who wouldn’t charge a monster, especially with things how they are now?
Besides, who is Big Red to talk about you being a dummy when he head butted a human in the leg? That human would have found one of you sooner or later, and he sure didn’t want to be anyone’s friend. Big Red did what had to be done, just like you did, and just like, like…
‘Grunt’
Anyway, anyway… You were just doing what toughies are meant to, and so did Big Red. Both of you did exactly what the old toughies trained you to and did it well; the kitty monster didn’t get anyone, neither did the human. You’re all still here; you, Big Red, All Mummah, the other toughies, and Big Red’s family. Most of it, anyway. Maybe he should just be happy they’re still here and safe, partly thanks to you.
And, so what if that kitty monster had given you forever-sleepies? It happens, all the time. Toughies, even good ones like you and Big Red won’t last forever. Forever sleepies get everyone in the end. Even, fluffies like, like…
‘Twee,’
Your see-places open wider, like they would have if you’d been sleeping and woke up suddenly. Come to think of it, you can’t remember what the last few moments of the walk was like. Actually, its more than the last few-
‘W-wat? Wat tuffy wan?’
The blue toughie takes a moment to answer; ‘Fwuffies gun stahp fow nummies nao. Aww Mummah am wookin fow-’
‘O-otay, gud.’ You say making to walk past the toughie. ‘Twee go make suwe munstahs nu get cwose.’
‘Bud Twee awways du dat,’ the blue toughie calls after you. ‘Wai nu wait tiww hav nummies? Wai nu wet-’
Someone shushes the blue toughie and probably tells him not to push things further, going by how you’re not hearing anything else out of him. You don’t see who it was, though it isn’t hard to guess. There’s not that many of you, for a start, and the only ones who know you enough to-
‘Grunt’
Keep monsters away from the others.
That’s what you’re doing. That’s what you’re gonna focus on. Focus on that.
You start as always by walking outward, far enough that everyone should have enough warning if something happens, not so far you’ll get lost. It’s just like at the safe-place, when you had a safe-place. No one ever taught you what the right distance was, only that you’d get a feel for it eventually. You think you’ve got that feel, have done for a while; once it’s right, you turn and start the walk.
The laps pass by one after another, much quicker than they did at the safe-place with less ground to cover. Other than that it’s exactly the same, looking and listening for anything out of the ordinary; the one sight or sound that means an attack is about to start. You like doing this, it helps distract your thinkie-place from, everything. Such as, how long you’ll be searching for the herd until you find them or another herd that’ll take you in.
How likely are either those? Between those bad fluffies and the humans, how many herds are even left in the forest? Maybe your herd is the only one left out here. That could be a good thing, in a way. All that extra space to live in, along with the nummies and different safe places. And you wouldn’t have to fight over or protect any of it, at least for a while. Will you and the others ever get to enjoy that, though?
‘Grunt’
Not if you don’t focus you won’t.
Forcing a lot of thoughts from your thinkie-place you get back on task. However much time you spent thinking on those problems it was way to long. The older toughies would have given you sorry hoofies for that, especially… Did, that bird sound different? Come one, make another sound. No, no it was normal, far as you can tell. Though, birdies aren’t really a danger to any of you; except the ones who grab babbies, but Sky Ball and Darktime are too big for that to be a worry.
Alright, what about the other sounds?
Breezie monsters, they still sound small; no sign sky-monsters are on the way. Sound of things moving? Other than you, nothing that’s even close. It doesn’t mean nothing’s out there, but still. Forever sorry sticks, those strange things which flew through the sky, other scary things used by humans? No, nothing even close.
So far, so good.
All you need is to keep walking, listening and watching until its time to move on, to where-ever you’ll spend this dark-time. You hope it’ll have a place you can build a comfortable nestie; sleeping well for once would be nice. You’ve spent the last couple of dark-times on patrol so Big Red wouldn’t bother you, and all the sleepies are getting to you. So far you’ve managed to keep your focus but the sleepies are always there, poking at you from the corners. So long as you keep going you can fend them off until you can fix them for-
‘Babbeh’
Before you realise what’s happened you’ve spun around on the spot. What, just happened? You, you couldn’t have heard that. It, i-it’s impossible, but it happened. You’re sure it happened; you heard…
‘W-wah…’
Your nummie-place moves but no wordies come out. It tries to make the right shape that’ll push the wordies out, but nothing works. Standing in place, nummie-place refusing to work, an odd haze or buzzing seems to lift; in rushes a bunch of things you didn’t notice before. Your heart’s beating, pounding so hard you’re scared it might fly right out of your chest. You’re breathing hard and sharp, like you’ve just ran a very, very long way, and you can hardly stand with how your leggies are shaking.
Seriously, what happened? What was that? You couldn’t, just couldn’t have heard that! He, h-he’s…
‘Twee? Twee!’
All Mummah’s voice snaps you part way back to attention; your head darts all over but she’s not here. Just as well; if you look even slightly as bad as you feel, the last thing you want is anyone to see.
‘Twee! Fwuffies am goin nao!’
‘T-twee am cumin!’ You call, but take a few slow, deep breaths before leaving and while you walk. You have to look normal, what counts for it, by the time you’re back. Otherwise you’ll get question and… And you can’t deal with questions right now.
It only takes a few moments to rejoin the others, gathered together ready to head out. ‘Wat Twee doin oud dewe?’ The blue toughie asks when you emerge from the bushies.
‘Was, wookin for munstahs. An oda tings,’ you tell him, paying attention to your wordies and how you say them so you don’t let anything out. Even getting angry at him might cause the others, Big Red especially to ask questions; lots of questions.
‘Hope yu get nummies oud dewe,’ the yellow toughie adds. ‘Cause nu can wait fow yu tu get dem nao.’
‘Dewe am gun be sky-munstahs in dah dawk-time, Aww Mummah tink,’ she explains. ‘Nee find pwace dat can keep fwuffies safe fwom dem an sky-wawa.’ How does she know that sky-monsters are, oh, never mind. All Mummah just knows things.
‘Dat am otay. Twee nu nee nummies. Am, otay.’ All Mummah and the toughies look at you a little longer then turn to the path ahead. You’re not sure if they looked at you longer than normal; even if they were, though, they’re not the ones you’re worried about. No, you know he’s looking at you; you can feel his see-places.
‘Am goin nao; fowwow Aww Mummah,’ she and the toughies start walking. You fall in now too far behind them, away from Big Red and his family. Right, you should be safe for a while; Big Red won’t move from the back of the line for anything, so he probably have a chance to bother you until the dark-time.
You, hope you’ll sleep properly then.
Runny
You haven’t sat with, much less spoken to Ricky or his family since you blew up at him. He and Olive shy away from you, their babbies don’t even look in your direction when you’re close. That’s bad enough, but you’ve had problems with your family too. Sky and your babbies, they’re not avoiding you or anything like that. But you’re speaking less and the huggies are shorter, more forced.
It hurts, badly. You wish you hadn’t reacted the way you had; Ricky didn’t deserve what you did, or at least being as harsh as you were. However, You can’t see yourself not getting mad at him for what he said, even if that lost the only friends you have in this place; the only fluffies who might have helped your family escape, even a little.
If you could let yourself fall on your tummy and cry you would; would have three and three times by now, in fact. But you didn’t let yourself, and your won’t; not until you, Sky and all your babbies are back with the herd and your family. You’d settle for only them getting back if that’s what it meant, but you’ll find a way out, no matter how long it takes. And, it’s gonna be a good one.
You’ll find a way out that lets every single fluffy escape in to the woods and back to safety. That should be enough to make good with Ricky and his family. If it’s not, well…
‘Sigh’
All in time; you still have to find a way past this strange wall first. Then you can worry about Ricky and his family (maybe yours too) still being upset. And, where exactly you should go to join back up with the herd. That’s the bigger thing of the two to worry about; you don’t have the slightest idea where the herd is or how far away from there you are.
Even taking scardies into account, you and the others were in the big metal monster for a long time. Not to mention, you weren’t put in the metal monster at the safe-place, but somewhere else. Somewhere that could have been far, far away. And where exactly did the herd to, in which direction? Where, where… So many “where” questions, none you can answer.
Cold slowly creeps up your leggies, spreading out through your tummy and chest. As it passes both, it leaves behind an empty tightness. Once it finally reaches your head, you slow to a stop. Even if you can get out of here, and that seems more impossible each bright-time despite what you force yourself to believe, how can you find the herd? How could you even start?
You don’t want… Your thinkie-place can barely form the idea, but, maybe you can’t. Maybe you can’t find the herd, and won’t ever see them again. Them, or the rest of-
‘Hewwo,’
Hearing a voice from behind, especially when you’re not expecting it and distracted is the kind of thing that would make you jump. You don’t quite, instead stumbling forward a few steps. Recovering, you spin around and come face to face with a fluffy, a small one. He’s about the same size as the Smarty’s brother, maybe a bit bigger.
A moment passes; the small fluffy looks at you, like he expects you to answer instead of staying quiet. The only fluffies (that you don’t already know) who’ve talked to you come from here. They work with or for the humans. No way you’ll risk giving them anything.
‘Am fwuffy otay? Yu wawkin fow wong time.’
What? Has he been watching you this whole… Calm, calm down. He probably did that to shake you. ‘S-so? Fwuffy wike wawkin.’
‘Bud yu doin id fow wong time.’ The little fluffy says again. ‘Dat make id wook wike dewe am sumtin wong.’
‘Weww, dewe nu am anyting wong.’ You turn and make a point to keep walking, but don’t get far before you hear something, something that annoys you. You whip back around and ‘Wai yu fowwow Ru, Fwuffy? Fwuffy jus say nu ting am wong!’
‘Fwuffy nu tawkies wike nu ting am wong.’ The little fluffy says, perfectly calm. ‘Fwuffy tawkies wike am maddies, an hav bad scawdies tuu.’ Bolts of the same shoot down your back, but you manage to keep still.
‘W-weww… F-fwuffy nu dat. N-nu knu dat, dat Fwuffy am maddies ow scawdies.’
‘Bud stiww tawkies wike am.’
This time you do take a step back. What’s with this fluffy? He’s small, about the same size as a big baby and sounds like one too. But the way he talks, you’ve never heard a big baby talk like that. This is more like a big fluffy, and older, smarter fluffy than you. Besides that, how he’s figured out so much just by looking and listening…
‘Hawowd nu twyin make Fwuffy mowe scawdies ow maddies ow saddies.’ The small fluffy, Harold says. 'Jus wan make suwe aww dah fwuffies hewe am otay.
‘W-wai!’ You blurt out. ‘Yu am wif dah hoomins! Hoomins huwt hewd! Day bwing Wunnie an famiwy hewe!’ By the time you realise you just said your name out loud it’s too late; all you want is to take it back.
‘Dah hoomins hewe nu du dat. Day nu wan huwt fwuffies.’ If the little fluffy just won after hearing your name, he’s not showing it. ‘Hawowd knu yu am saddies an scawdies, bud hoomin hewe wan hewp.’
‘Weww, Fwuffy nu wan hewp! Nu wan hewp fwom hoomins!’ You declare, doing all you can to keep the scardies from using your name hidden. ‘Onwy ting Fwuffy wan is get famiwy oud of dis pwace and find hewd gain!’ You try to puff out your cheeks to make the point, but it doesn’t quite work. Instead of looking scared or even a bit shaken, Harold just looks sad.
‘Hawowd am sowwies, bud yu nu can get oud.’
No matter how many times you’ve thought that, hearing it out loud feels like a kick to the tummy.
‘Dah hoomins make suwe fwuffies nu can get oud. Dat am how day keep fwuffies safe.’ Harold turns to look through the wall. ‘Dewe wots of bad tings oud dewe; munstahs, bad fwuffies,’
‘Hoomins,’ you add. Harold turns back and you continue on. ‘Hoomins dat huwt hewd. Take fwuffies tu pwaces wike dis an nu wet dem weave!’ After a moment Harold nods, but only a little.
‘Hawowd knu oda hoomins huwt yuw hewd, bud dese hoomins nu am dah same. An dewe am hoomins oud dewe dat am mowe bad dan hoomins dat huwt yuw hewd.’
There are, worse humans than the one’s who destroyed the safe-place and for all you know most of the herd? That… That can’t be, that can’t be right! ‘Dat nu am twue! Yu wie! Dewe nu am ting dat am mowe wowstest dan huwtin hewd an takin safe-pwace way!!’ This time you manage to puff your cheeks out properly, but it doesn’t have much effect on Harold . Instead, he looks at you like, what is that look? It’s like he-
‘Hawowd knu Wunnie tink dat am twue, bud Wunnie am wong.’ Hearing him use your name sends a few chills down your leggies. How carefully was he listening to you? What else have you let slip that you didn’t notice?! ‘Dewe am wots of weawy bad hoomins oud dewe, an day am wots mowe bad dan hoomins dat huwt yuw hewd.’
He, he’s trying to trick you; he has to be! There’s just no way dat-
‘Hawowd see wots of fwuffies dat cum fwom hoomins wike dat. Day, day…’ Harold trails off, staring at the ground, then out through the strange wall. ‘Dah hoomins hewe am nice, an day onwy wan hewp yu an oda fwuffies. Hope Wunnie can undewstan dat.’ Before you have a chance to respond, Harold turns on the spot, leaving you standing by the strange wall, more unsure than you were before.
XXXX
Loud, high-pitch screams shattered the mid-morning peace. Panicked birds fled their perches, hares and other easily startled creatures ran for their lives; none knew nor cared the screams’ origin was no threat. Beneath the patchy shelter of a large, scraggly bush, a dark pink mare with grey mane and tail thrashed about on her makeshift nest of leaves, sticks and “donated” fluff.
‘Screeeee!!! Eeeeeeee!!! Huwtieeeeessss!!!’ Tears poured from the young fluffy’s eyes, soaking the fine fluff underneath and dripping from the underside of her jaw. ‘Muuuummmaaaahhhh!!!’ Even now, after willingly abandoning her owner, all the mare wanted was the comfort and warmth found in the teenager’s arms.
‘I-id am otay Speciaw-fwend! E-ewyting am gun be otay!!’ The green stallion crouched by his mate’s side, offering what little support he could.
‘Huuwwtiiiesss!!! Squeeeeeee!!!’
His efforts did little for the mare, and wouldn’t have done much more if they weren’t filtered through the Stallion’s rising panic.
‘Peep peep! Cheeeep!!’
‘Peep, peeeep!!’
The newborns’ cries, barely a minute and a half old, tore at the stallion’s heart strings. Though young, he’d heard those desperate cries for food, warmth and a mother’s comfort dozens of times. Now they belonged to his babbies, the Stallion finally understood why so many of his former herd-mates fluffies were so hostile in this situation.
‘Peeeeep!!’
Each desperate cry added a fresh layer of panic to the stallion’s mind; the babbies needed milk, to be cleaned, kept warm and safe. Ideally that should have happened by now, started at the very least. Fluffy labour, dramatic as it seemed was a relatively straight forward affair by most measures. Imperfect as they were, fluffies on average achieved exceptional birth success rates. While runts were an expected if uncommon result, serious complications were rare.
Rare. Not impossible.
‘SQUEEEEEE!!!’ The mare’s abdomen contracted hard, making another failed attempt to birth foal number three. Unlike it’s siblings who’d slipped out with relative ease the next foal in line was stuck, had been for a concerning about of time. ‘EEEEEEE!!!’
Turning his attention away from his mate’s pained tear soaked face, the stallion looked to her midsection; ‘Babbeh, babbeh! Pwease cum oud nao!!’ A moment later the mare’s belly twitched; for a brief moment optimism swelled in the Stallion’s heart. The foal must have heard him, there could be no other explanation. But, when the seconds ticked by with no sign of-
‘SCREEEEEEE!!!’
The mare’s scream, more pained and desperate than the previous ones sent fresh terror through the stallion’s mind. Complications were rare, but he’d seen them; mothers dying moments after welcoming their foals to the world; whole litters stillborn or runts; and perhaps the worst of all, a failed birth that ended in the toughie’s having no choice but to put the mare out of her misery.
Watching the mare’s struggle, the stallion saw every horror scenario he’d seen and more besides. In his mind’s eye the stallion watched his beloved mate dying in front of him, or forced to mercy kill her himself, followed by his two foals. The visions sent terror and despair flooding through his being, but alongside came a frantic determination.
Without warning the stallion pressed down on the mare’s abdomen, leaning in with as much body weight as he dared. ‘SQUEEEEEE!! EEEEEEE!!!’ Surprise followed by fresh pain sent the mare thrashing anew but the stallion didn’t let up. He’d seen older members of the herd dislodge stuck foals with this trick, and it worked, a few times. Anything was better than waiting for his family to die in front of him.
‘REEEEEEEE!! EEEEEEEEEE!!!’
The mare thrashed and screamed against her mate’s effort but the stallion refused to let up. With no results forthcoming, he threw caution to the wind and leaned into his mate with everything he had.
‘REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!’
S-splort-ort
In a rush of fluid and afterbirth, three foals emerged from their mother and tumbled to the damp ground. Getting off his mate the stallion rush over; heart pounding in his throat and ears, the stallion looked over each foal, only long enough to know they were moving. Seeing all five moving about and peeping vigorously, the stallion went to help his mate.
‘Huwwy Speciaw-fwend!’ the stallion pushed on his mate, all but forcing the exhausted pain ridden mare to stand up. ‘Babbehs nee wickie cweanies an miwkies! Day nee dem nao!!’ The mare could hardly speak, let alone protest her treatment. All the young pink fluffy wanted was to collapse into a deep sleep, but lacked the strength to fight her instincts.
On shaky legs the mare stood and turned to face her offspring. Joy and surprise briefly flickered over her face before the mare near fell forward. With what little control and strength she had left, the mare pulled the first foal close and started to lick it clean. The stallion did his part, choosing another of the foals at random; unlike this mate, he didn’t have the benefit of exhaustion to dull the taste.
‘Bwuwgh…’
No one ever told him how unpleasant tummy-water’s taste really was, though even if someone tried they almost certainly couldn’t have conveyed it. Pushing through the foul taste for the sake of his young, the stallion finished the job and gently placed the filly close to her mother.
‘Peep peep! Cheep, cheep!!’ The blind and near deaf foal squirmed on the ground; base instincts drove the newborn as it desperately sought out it’s first meal.
‘Id, nu be wong time nao, babbeh,’ the stallion said as kindly as he could between licks. Glancing at the mare, the stallion noticed with some disappointment she was still cleaning the first foal. Granted she was terribly exhausted, but the Stallion couldn’t stand by. All fluffies knew babbies needed to drink their mother’s milk after being born. How soon after none knew, but the sooner the better.
‘H-hewe, Speciaw-fwend,’ the Stallion placed the second foal he’d cleaned down by the filly. ‘Fwuffy hewp babbehs have miwkies nao.’
‘O… O-otay…’ The mare responded groggily, to the stallion’s relief. Each birth was different, especially in regard to how mares reacted afterwards. Some were liable to be extremely hostile, making it difficult for their mate and others to help. Fortunately for all concerned, the mare readily accepted her mate’s help and in seconds, two foals were greedily suckling from her teats.
While two foals fed their parents worked quickly to clean the other three, the stallion placing each close to their mother, so they’d have easy access to milk when their turn came. After a few enthusiastic minutes, the first two foals detached from their mother. Each newborn let out a series of contented chirps, then slightly louder ones as their father moved both to a spot just by their mother’s forelegs. With a little help, she drew both into a hug.
‘B-babbehs… He… H-hewwo, babbehs. A-an yuw, Mummah.’ Exhaustion did little to dull the young mare’s smile, growing wider and brighter the longer she gazed at her two precious foals. She’d coveted foals of her own since the fateful day she lay eyes on a feral litter at the park, and at long last she had them. Meanwhile, the next two foals, both fillies, had their fill while the stallion cleaned the last foal.
‘Peeep! Peeeeep!!’ The colt cried, louder and with a stronger voice than his sibblings. The fact didn’t escape the Stallion’s notice, and nor did the foal’s size. He was impressive, at least half again the size of the others. This, the stallion realised, must have been the reason for the mare’s difficult labour. Foals like this were uncommon, but any herd of a decent size could be counted on to have at least a few. These larger than normal fluffies, always earthies, were invaluable as toughies. Though no better against dogs and cats than their normal size counter parts, one or two could easily tip the odds in a fight between herds.
It was selfish, but when the stallion and his mate rejoined his, no, their herd, surely they’d be welcomed back. Accepting a housie fluffy into the fold would a small price to pay for what would be a valuable addition to the herd’s toughies. ‘Babbeh gun be gud tuffy,’ the stallion whispered to the colt. In time the colt would, though his father would never see. Before that, though,
‘Peeeep!’
‘Nu wowwie, babbeh. Yu get miwkies soon.’ Longer after, foals three and four detached from their mother and rolled away, full and satisfied for the moment. ‘Otay babbeh, yu get miwkies nao.’ The stallion made to put the large colt by his mother’s teats for his first drink.
‘N-nu…’
The mare spoke softly enough that the stallion didn’t hear, and almost succeed in putting the colt on teat when she spoke up again. ‘Nu, nu!’
The stallion froze and looked at his mate. ‘huh?’
‘Nu, nu giv dat babbeh, miwkies…’
The stallion was lost for words. She was exhausted, probably still in some pain, but the mare had spoken clearly. ‘Nu giv dat babbeh miwkies.’
‘Bud, bud Speciaw-fwend,’ the stallion tried, no believing what he’d heard. ‘Dis babbeh hav tummeh huwties. He nee miwkies!’
‘Nu, nu cawe,’ the mare breathed. ‘Dat, dat babbeh giv Appwe huwties. Id nu wet oda babbehs get oud.’ The stallion’s surprise at his mates intuition was squashed by shock at her words, mirrored in the hard look in her eyes.
‘Bud Speciaw-’
‘Nu giv dummeh poopie babbeh miwkies! Nu du id!’ The mare curled up, hiding her teats from view behind her tail. ‘Nu wan big dummeh poopie-babbeh dat giv Appwe an gud babbehs huwties!’
‘Bud-’
‘Nu wan!’ The mare yelled, turning her gaze from the colt and his stunned father. The majority of ferals abandoned prejudice for “poopie babbehs” many generations ago. The day to day pressure of surviving in the wild proved a stronger motivator than the instincts Hasbio attempted and largely failed to hard-code into their creations. Domestic fluffies, especially those from industrial suppliers, were a different matter.
IF he’d been bolder, the stallion would have forced the issue; he’d seen stallions and older mares do as much with reluctant mothers in the past, but he was too easily brow beaten to stand up to his mate. At the same time he couldn’t abandon the colt, or worse. The foal was too valuable a bargaining chip for his plan to re-enter the herd, and the stallion couldn’t bring himself to harm his offspring.
The stallion briefly considered challenging his mate but when he looked up found the mare was already asleep, the four accepted foals nestling around her forelegs. He saw an opportunity to let the colt feed while his mother slept, but hesitated; the mare might not have been as sleep as she seemed, and the stallion feared how she might react. His mate, after-all, might not have any qualms about harming the brown colt.
All the while the colt distracted his father with increasingly loud and desperate peeps. The foal needed milk, and soon. Realising the danger his colt was in swayed the stallion’s mind. Carefully, making every effort not to wake the mare, the stallion helped his colt latch on to a teat and start drinking. The colt, finally able to satisfy the aching need in his gut drank greedily, with far more enthusiasm compared with his smaller siblings.
While the foal drank his father kept an anxious watch over the mare, alert to to slightest sign she was about to wake. A few times the mare twitched and seemed to stir, sending the stallion’s heart racing. But, the mare didn’t wake. Labour had taken it’s toll on the young fluffy and indeed, she hardly felt the brown colt suckle and kneed her teat. Even so, the stallion couldn’t let himself relax until the colt let go. Falling over backwards, the large foal let out a single contented chirp, waving his stubby legs softly in the air.
The obvious move would be add him to the fluff pile, bu the stallion was still weary of his mate’s intentions. If he added the colt to the fluff pile but had to leave, he risked not being present if and when the mare woke up. There was no telling how she might react and the stallion couldn’t risk it, not with all that rode on this colt’s survival.
‘Howd on, babbeh,’ the stallion leaned down and carefully picked the colt up in his mouth.
‘Speee!’ The colt squawked in surprise, then alarm from the unfamiliar sensations. ‘Peep peep! Peeep!’ As quickly and safely as he could, the stallion carried his colt to another bush a half dozen meters from the main nest. Putting the colt down, he spent the next few minutes making the best hiding spot he could. It wouldn’t be comfortable long term, but with any luck the colt wouldn’t have to spend even the afternoon there.
‘Otay, babbeh,’ the stallion gently placed his colt in the hiding place. ‘Babbeh nee stay hewe fow wittwe bit.’
‘Peep, peep!’
‘Nu be scawdies. Daddeh be back soon. Jus nee, tawkies tu mummah.’ The stallion didn’t know what he’d say to change the mare’s mind, but he could surely think of something. ‘Daddeh wub yu,’ the stallion leaned down, giving his cot a brief hug before leaving.
‘Peep! Peep peep!’ The colt’s cries tore at the stallion’s heart, but he grit his teeth an endured it. It wouldn’t be for long, anyway. All he had to do was give his mate time to recover before waking her and explaining why they had to keep the brown colt. Surely after a rest, she’d be open to the talk. Exhaustion and pain did strange things to a fluffy.
Arriving back at the main nest, the stallion settled down next to his newly grown family. Even from here, the colt’s peeps were noticeable over the background noise of the forest. It was hard to lie there, comfortable and surrounded by his family, and listen to the colt’s crying. But the stallion comforted himself with the knowledge all would be right in good time.
Consumed with dreams of the future, the stallion was blind to threats in the present. While most animals close by fled at the mare’s screams, others hadn’t. Nature teaches many lessons, among them the sound of an easy meal.
Tree
‘B-bwah!! Haff, haff haff…’
What… W-what was with that sleepie-picture? Who, who were those fluffies talking about you? Could, could they have been… No, no that’s not right, you don’t remember Mummah or Daddeh. Your, other one. You used to think you never ha**d a real mummah and daddeh, until someone pointed out everyone has both. Still, how can you be having sleepie-pictures like that?
You don’t remember!
But… No, no that’s not right, you must have remembered at least a little. How else could you have a sleepie-picture where you could hear them? Hear them talking about you and how, a-and how-
‘Twee! Hey, dummeh!!’
As you snap out of it Big Red sort of appears in front of you. Just, how much did that sleepie-picture make you-
‘Wat am wong, dummeh? Yu make oda fwuffies scawdies.’
‘Nuting,’ you tell him, surprising yourself with how calm an even your voice manages to be. ‘Nuting am wong.’
Big Red spends the next few moments staring at you, no blinking, no nothing. They taught you and the other young toughies that, how to stay calm and not give anything away. There aren’t a lot fluffies can do it well. Big Red, though, he does it better than nearly anyone other than the old Smarty, or-
‘Get up den. Fwuffies nee move nao.’ Big Red turns, leaving you on the pile of leaves and twigs you kicked together for a nestie. You meant to watch the area around during the dark-time like usual, but all the other times you’ve done that added up. By the time you’d stopped walking last bright-time, you could barely keep your see-places open. Not the biggest problem, Big Red wouldn’t wake you except for a monster attack.
Hearing everyone else starting to walk you get up and join them, taking up position at the back after seeing Big Red’s up front. Alright, you’ll be fine from here; it’s just keeping watch for anything dangerous and not losing sight of anyone in front. It’ll clear your thinkie-place from the… The what, exactly? What was that sleepie-picture? What was it?! And, why?! Why would you have a sleepie-picture about things you shouldn’t, even remember? Things you can’t even be sure actually happened!? What’s… No, focus. What you need right now is to focus; focus on the forest.
Focus on anything else.
XX
A whole bright-time spent looking out for monsters and other dangers while walking through the forest and taking a break helped clear your thinkie-place. At least, a little bit.
But, now you have new problems.
When it comes to bad sleepie-pictures, like the one from last dark-time, you almost never have them just once. If you go to sleep you might, probably will, have that same sleepie-picture again. If you keep waking up like you did this bright-time, it’ll just make Big Red and the others ask questions. You don’t want to answer those questions. Not even one of them.
Well, in that case, ‘Twee gun watch fow munstahs,’ before anyone has a chance to talk or say you shouldn’t, you head out for a spot in the forest to keep watch from. Not too far away, not too close either. Settling into a hiding spot, you set your thinkie-place and other things to making sure nothing sneaks up on the others, even if that means you get hurt or worse.
That’s what you were taught to do; it’s what, Daddeh said being a toughie was about…
You shake your head, hard. Focus, focus on the forest. Focus on looking for monster and bad fluffies and anything else! Anything, anything other than…
Smarty
It’s the dark-time again.
The herd’s managed to find enough nummies and water to keep everyone’s thirsty and tummy hurties at bay, everyone’s sleeping in a safe-ish spot and, so far, no one’s heard or seen anything sneaking up. This is about as good as dark-times get, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t relax a little. If things were different, you might even spend it with your family and try to have a nice sleep for once. You’d settle for not having bad sleepie-pictures.
Things aren’t like that, though; instead of your family, you’re here with the Next-bestest toughies, keeping watch over the brown lookie-fluffy so he doesn’t run away. No matter what promises he makes or how much better being with a herd, any herd is compared to alone in the forest, you don’t trust him. If he didn’t know about this safe-place, you would have given him forever-sleepies.
…You shouldn’t think about sleepies of any kind right now. You’ve been awake a long time, more than usual and you’re really feeling it now. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to help guard the lookie-fluffy, but you just can’t find it in you to let him out of your sight. Not that you don’t sleep at all, just not now. In a while, you’ll go wake Hoofie and he’ll take your place; same for the others.
With you are three Next-bestest toughies. Leaf would be here, but there’s also watching the herd to take care of, so he’s doing that. He’ll swap with someone when he needs to, no need for you to worry. Daddeh did a good job picking who the Next-bestest toughies should be. Mostly. You don’t have to worry about anyone not doing their job and having to constantly around to make sure.
That makes you feel safe, safe enough to fall asleep out here. Daddeh probably felt the same when he had to move the herd. ‘Sigh…’ Yes, sleep will be great, even if it’s not the amount you should get. Speaking of sleep, you would have expected the lookie-fluffy to at least close his see-places a couple of times. Instead, he’s doing his best to keep track of things without looking like he is.
Well, maybe you should let him know it’s not working.
‘Wai yu nu sweepies?’ The lookie-fluffy glances at you, but doesn’t give a look that says he wants to talk. Too bad. ‘Wai yu nu sweepies? Yu wawkies aww bwight-time. Gun wawkies mowe next bwight-time, tiww find nyu safe-pwace.’
‘Wai Smawty cawe?’
‘Smawty nee yu find nyu safe-pwace,’ you tell him, voice low. ‘Nu can du dat if yu am tuu sweepies.’
‘Maybe Wookie fwuffy nu can sweepies cause yu an odas an wookin.’ He tilts his head towards one of the other toughies near by, but you don’t follow his gaze.
‘Day wookin cause Smawty nu knu yu nu am gun wun way.’
‘Wai Wookie fwuffy du dat?’
‘Wai yu nu du dat?’ You ask back, but don’t get an answer. Whether it’s because you’ve got him trapped or he doesn’t want to answer, you’re not sure. It probably doesn’t matter. ‘Weww, dat am wai tuffies keep watchin, an am gun keep watchin tiww get tu nyu safe-pwace.’
‘Am stiww wong way way…’
‘Den tuffies watch yu fow wong wong time,’
The lookie-fluffy opens his nummie-place to speak, but closes it again. The moments of silence that follow make you think he’s done talking, but instead, ‘Wat happen tu odas?’
‘Huh?’
‘Wat happen tu odas? Wookie fwuffy nu see Twee ow Big Wed. Whewe am Bestest-tuffy? Wat boud-’
‘Day nu am hewe.’ Before the lookie-fluffy has a chance to speak you go on; ‘When dah hoomins came, tink day wun oda way. Nu cud find dem when wooked.’
‘So day am stiww in fowest?’
‘…Bestest-tuffy nu am.’
‘Huh? Bud he nu am…’ The Brown lookie-fluffy trails off as he figures it out on his own. That’s good, you don’t want to tell that story again.
‘Hewd twy wookin fow dem, bud nu cud. Tink day stiww am oud dewe wookin fow hewd. Ow, maybe find nyu hewd.’ You don’t want the second to be true, but it’s far better than what else could happen to them. You won’t let yourself think about that.
'Wat Smawty gun du? the lookie-fluffy asks. ‘Am gun wook fow dem? Hewd nee tuffies wike Big Wed an Twee , an-’
‘Nu can wook fow dem tiww hav nyu safe-pwace.’ You say, cutting the lookie-fluffy off mid sentence.
‘Bud-’
‘How can wook fow fwuffies if nu hav safe-pwace? Hewd nu can keep movin when oda fwuffies go wookin, nee stay whewe am. Nu can stahp fow wong time in pwace dat nu am safe, wike dat big den.’ You pause, giving the lookie-fluffy a chance to speak. He doesn’t take it. ‘Big Wed an Twee am gud tuffies an, an Smawty’s sissie an babbeh am, wif dem tuu.’ Your wordies catch, but you force through; ‘Bud am mowe impowtant dat hewd get nyu safe-pwace. Nu can be oud hewe when dah cowd-times cum. Dat am, wat am mowe impowtant.’
Silence returns, as it should be. Talking in the dark-time, even making as little noise as you can isn’t the smartest idea. And you just said all that stuff about what’s good and important for the herd. Sometimes you can’t seem to help yourselves, though. ‘Dat… Yu tawkies wike owd smawty did. Du wat he du.’ Is that meant to be a compliment? Is he trying to say he’s happy or at least feeling safer now you’re acting like Daddeh?
Whatever the lookie-fluffy meant, all you feel is maddies.
‘So, dat mean yu gun say yu an Wock an odas wewe dummehs? Dat nu shud hav dun wat twy du?’ The lookie-fluffy stares at you but can’t keep it up for long before he looks away. That’s probably closest to an answer you’ll get out of him. ‘Jus go sweepies nao,’ you say, getting to your hoofies. ‘Smawty wan go wong way in dah bwight-time. Hewd be in fowest tuu wong.’ Turning before he has a chance to speak, you go to where Hoofie’s asleep under a bushie and gently poke him. ‘Hoofie. Hoofie, wakies nao.’
‘Zzzz… H-huh? Yawn’ Slowly, he crawls out of his spot and stand up. ‘Am time tu watch dat wookie-fwuffy?’
‘Yes. Tink id be dah bwight-time befowe yu can sweepies gain,’ you say, looking up. ‘Sowwies.’
‘Dat am otay,’ Hoofie says, then walks past. ‘Hoofie make suwe dummeh nu wun way.’
‘Tank yu.’ For a moment or two you stay in place, thinkie-place trying to go over what you talked about with the lookie-fluffy before sleepies make it lock up. Well, better go to sleep than do anything else; you weren’t kidding the lookie-fluffy when you said you wanted to go longer than usual in the bright time. You’ve got to speed this along where you can. For now though…
Careful no to wake anyone, you settle down with your family and go to sleep as soon as your see-places close.