You are a bestest babbeh, your mummah says so every day. You don’t know what it means, and you try to ask her but all you can manage is a few cheeps. Your fur is a pretty yellow, nearly white with how pastel it is. Your tail is a gentle pink, and your mane would be as well if it had grown in yet. You can’t see these things, but your mummah sings to you every day about how pretty you are, so you have to believe her.
You and your family live in a boxie housie in a cold alleyway. You always get the bestest, warmest spot when you sleep— right in the middle of your mummah’s back. Your brothers and sisters sleep on the bottom of the boxie housie next to your mummah. They aren’t allowed to sleep with you, or else they’d steal all your warmsies. That’s what your mummah says. You can hear them crying out for love and warmth, but they’re all but ignored. You don’t mind, the thought of losing your warmsies is enough to keep you from asking for their company— not that you can manage sentences yet anyways. There’s an even quieter sobbing that you can hear sometimes from atop your fluffy throne, though it’s only audible during sleepy time. You assume it’s another sibling, but they’re definitely not sleeping next to your mummah— they’re too quiet for that.
You’re laying at your mummah’s teat, drinking away the delicious and creamy miwkies that you always get. You try to ignore the cries around you, your mummah had told you it was just your siblings trying to steal all the milk so you can’t have any. How mean! Why would they do such a thing? Don’t they know you’re so so hungry?
You’re suckling away when you hear a new sound— a voice. It’s a lady voice, but it’s definitely not your mummah. No, your mummah’s voice is the one asking the “nice wady” to be her “nyu mummah”. What did that mean? You don’t know, you’re far too focused on your meal. There’s more conversations going on, but you can’t be bothered to catch up. Instead, you continue devouring your breakfast, making sure to eat until you can’t take another drop— your mummah says you have to drink lots so you can grow big and strong. Your tiny wings flutter happily at the idea.
Then, you feel something wrap around your chubby little tummy, and you’re pulled away from your mummah. You immediately begin to cry out, the loss of your meal and mother terrifying you especially since you can’t see yet.
You’re brought closer to gentle voice and further from your mummah’s cries of “gib bestest babbeh back!” What does she mean? Where are you going? The crying gets louder— your mummah is begging for her bestest babbeh and then screaming something about “no huwties”. Your siblings are crying now too, though most seem to end abruptly with a “ghk!!!” and then it’s silent.
It’s then you feel a warm air on your little face as the nice lady brings you up. Your seey places twitch at the feeling and you slowly open them for the first time. Bright teal eyes gleam at the face in front of you, taking in the pretty nice lady’s expression.
“Cheep!! Peep— mummah?”
You speak for the first time, unsure of who this person is— was it your mummah? It had to be, right? Why else would she be the first thing you’ve ever seen. Your wings flutter and your tail wags as the woman gives you a soft nod.
“Yes, I’m your mummah,” she coos, pressing her nose to your snout. You give a small cheep at the feeling before sticking your tiny front legs out “hehe!! Wuv mummah!!!” you chirp softly.
Your mummah wraps you in a soft piece of cloth and holds you close as she leaves the alley. “Let’s get you home— you’ll have lots of yummy food, warm blankets and a bunch of toys!” she chimes, and you can’t help but peep in reply.
You don’t notice the carnage behind you as it grows further away— your previous family a mess of blood, piss and shit. You’re unaware that your real mummah was brutally murdered for you and that you’re now being stolen away by a stranger. You don’t know your siblings were mercilessly crushed beneath a red stiletto for simply existing.
No, all you know is that this mummah loves you and is taking you somewhere warm and full of nummies. After all, you are the Bestest Babbeh.
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giving none of her foals only to her bestesh, karma hit hard with a 
maybe on her head, just feel sad for the two foals 
. Sometimes that’s how life be for a fluffy.
