Margret woke to the sound of her chirping foals, she was a feral mare, born in a herd of 10 and 10 and 2 Fluffies. She was in a moderately good spot in the herd. Having a Toughie as a Special Friend did have it’s perks…
When Margret woke up, her Mate, Boulder, was already gone, no doubt doing checks on the nearby area. Margret rolled onto her side, lulling her foals in to drink. Margret and Boulder were blessed with two Foals, both boys.
The first was the oldest of the two, his name was Sprig, because of his Dark Green coat, and Light Green Mane. Sitting on his back were two small wings, buzzing happily as he had his fill of milk.
The younger of the two was a spry, happy foal named Rocky, a small nod to his Father. While he was the smaller of the two, he was almost as big as Sprig. Rocky was a Earthy, just like his Daddeh.
Margret hummed as the two drank their fill, soon they would wean off her milk, and begin to crave solid foods, like grass, or baggie-nummies.
A sudden discomfort ran across Margret’s back. It was back again… That damned itch! As Rocky and Sprig drank, Margret reared up on her fanny and began to scratch her back along the wooden walls of her Family’s nest. She hated the itchy feeling, but to actually itch it was like being surrounded by Sketti and Babbehs…
After a few more moments of itching, she quickly hugged her boys, setting them on her back.
“Otay Babbehs! Time tu go ou’side!” Margret cheered, her boys peeping happily in response.
As Margret exited her nest, she immediately noticed the somber, mourning moods of her herd-mates. Margret hummed as she walked in between the other mares, some were crying, and some were comforting the crying mares.
As Margret contemplated what might be causing the sad-wawa to fall from her friend’s faces, she noticed a gathering of Fluffies, nearing the Stump of a tree the Smarty used to tell the Herd important things…
Margret got closer and closer until the shapes began to form clearer images to her…
Margret gasped, nearly making bad-poopies…
Hanging limply from four tall sticks, was the Smarty, Orange… His Mate, Star… and their oldest foal, Pumpkin… And… A-and…
Boulder…
They had be decapitated… Their lifeless bodies were impaled thru their bums, the sharp end of the sticks jutting out thru the severed Stumps that their heads used to reside on… A little higher up… was their heads…
All of them had closed eyes, and open mouths… Pumpkin had the worst look of all, the young Foal was left in the pure face of fear he had made when he had been killed…
The bodies were missing patches of fluff, and showed bruising… Orange was missing his legs… and his special-lumps… Star had her Milky-Places… Ripped off… Boulder was… Surprisingly intact, besides the severed head and bruising…
Margret dropped and began to cry, sobbing loudly and terribly… Sprig and Rocky looked at their father, their friend Pumpkin… And quickly joined their Mother, sobbing as the herd began to sob as well…
As the ‘Huu-huu’ing’ echoed thru the trees, the rest of the herd consoled their dear friend, or made their ways back to their own nests…
What was once 22, had became 18…
Margret stormed back to her nest, Sprig and Rocky in tow, and cried, not moving for food or even to move, simply falling into a depressed state, laying on her side, crying, for hours on end…
She had lost the love of her life… The Herd’s Smarty, Her Best Friend, and her Boy’s best friend…
Margret stayed in her hole, all day, not moving, only sighing as her boys drank their fill of milk. Margret didn’t even bother scratching her lump, simply letting it itch and… A-and beep…
Margret got up from her side and looked back at her itchy-place. It was now a shiny bright red, and it blinked every other second.
“H-hewwo? S-shiny ting?” Margret asked the bump, hearing the beeping get louder and louder, until finally, Margret felt a painful shock run along her spine.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEE! OWWIES! O-OWWIES! HUWTIES!” Margret yelled, rushing out of her nest, unaware she had knocked her boys onto the hard floor, causing them immense pain on impact.
As Margret yelled and hollered, the other Fluffies of her herd gathered round to see her banging her back across any tree, rock, or plant she thought would stop the pain.
As the herd tried to calm Margret down, a audible screech came from the far side of the Herd’s land.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! M-MUNSTAS! HOOMIN MUN-” cried a Fluffy, only to be silenced by a loud echoing thud.
The Herd now exposed, ran about, looking for places to hide. Some were smart enough to simply run away from the herd. As each Fluffy ran outside of Margret’s view, audible thuds and loud bangs echoed thru very tree and rock, the canopy of tree leaves had not only created adequate protection from rain and hail, but also creating a sound pocket. Each and every loud noise rung thru the Fluffies ears, some had those Thuds and Bangs as the last thing they heard.
From the 18 that were left, only a handful were spared, either for their colors, or their breeds…
Even during the carnage the pain didn’t stop for Margret, not until one of the Hoomin Munstas made himself visible to her.
“Well Margret! This was quite the haul! Good work baby!” The Hoomin said, hitting a button on a long back box.
As the button was clicked, Margret felt the shocking pain finally stop, laying pained and gasping for air. Sprig and Rocky struggled, and limped over to their Mother, crying, begging her to get up.
“Aww! So you had babies?! They are cute as buttons! Not great colors, but not bad ones! Good work Margret!” The Hoomin said, Scooping up the foals, and the, now limp, Margret.
“Hey, so the rest are dead, got about four good looking ones, two mares, a filly and a colt.”
“Perfect, load em up and reboot Margret for me would ya?” The Hoomin said, tossing the limp mare to his compatriot. “Oh and make sure that tracker didn’t get damaged too much, might need to replace it all together.”
“Nu! pwease! peep! speep! Nu gibe h-huwties tu Mummah!” Cried Rocky, who was a mixture of terrified and soothed, as his panic for his mother grew, the Hoomin Munsta gently caressed the boys, lovingly and tender.
“Its okay boys! were not going to hurt Margret! She’s how we make money! We don’t hurt our Fluffies!” The Hoomin explained, lying between his teeth, quickly moving away from Margret and the other Hoomin. “B-buh d-den why g-gib huwties t-tu g-gud fwuffies? peep? W-why gib h-huwties t-tu, tu D-Daddeh?!” Sprig asked.
The Hoomin simply didn’t answer, striding along as the two Foals were lifted away. Sprig and Rocky soon saw the shape familiar to all feral Fluffies, a Metaw-Munsta, stopped by the side of a large stretch of Bwack-Wock.
The two, obviously fearful of the two sights, pissed and shit in the Hoomin’s gloved hand. “Oh don’t worry! This Metal-Monster is mine! He wont hurt you. But he does get a bit loud!” The Hoomin chuckled, tossing the glove after opening the door, and quickly setting Sprig and Rocky in the vacant cup-holders.
“W-whewe Mummah?! Babbehs nee’ Mummah!” Rocky asked, struggling to climb out of the slick plastic walls of the holder. “It’s okay boys, she’ll get back here eventually, we just need to wait and be good! Can you do that for me? For Mummah Margret?” The Hoomin asked, gently tousling the boy’s small manes.
“O-otay… Spwig wiww peep! wai’ f-fow Mummah…”
“Wiww wai’ fow M-mummah…”
“Good boys! I’m sure she’ll be so proud of you two!” the Hoomin smiled, starting the car, which scared the foals, and quickly turned the Radio to a Alternative Rock station, which not only stopped the foals crying in fear, but caused them to try and hum along with the radio, not succeeding at it, but still trying, which entertained the Hoomin quite a bit while they waited.
Margret screeched harder and harder with each and every taser hit. She felt the electricity jumble her mind every time, she slowly forgot thing, but the pain was familiar… So, so familiar…
It wasn’t until she lost count after 10, 10 and 4, hits that she…
She was…
“Whewe… Whewe am hewe?” Margret asked, looking at her Herd’s conclave with utter confusion. Finally after messaging his Brother, The larger Hoomin got low and hid the taser. “Hi there, what’s your name?”
‘Mawgwed! Youw namesie is Mawgwed!’
“Nu… Nu hab namesie… Nice Mistah wan big namesie? Be nyu Daddeh?”
“Hmm… Sure! And this time, you’ll be Plum!” The Hoomin said, gently lifting Plum off of the grass.
‘NU! NU AM PWUM! AM MAWGWED! NU AM DUMMEH PWUM! WHEWE AM BABBEHS?! WHEWE WOCKY? WHEWE SPWIG?!’
“Yay! Fwuffy hab nyu namesie! Nyu Daddeh tuu! Am bestes’ bwight-… Uh, Dawk Time!”
The Hoomin took The reset Fluffy and brought her to the Car, quickly getting in, and trying to avoid the three survivors in cages the two Hoomins tossed in the back.
“MUMMAH! PEEP! MUMMAH AM H-HEWE! W-WOOK SPWIG!”
“PEEP! SPEEP! MUMMAH! SPWIG W-WUB MUMMAH!”
Plum looked at the two Foals and smiled.
‘BABBEHS! BABBEHS AM OTAY! SPWIG! WOCKY! MUMMAH HEWE! NU MAKE SAD-WAWA! MUMMAH WU-’
“Hewwo widdwe Babbehs! Fwuffy am Pwum! nu am Babbeh Mummah doe, su sowwy… Am suwe ‘ou Mummah am safe an’ wamw an’ hab wots ob huggies wite nao!”
Sprig and Rocky looked to each other and began to cry hard, confused, as the Fluffy they once called Mummah, was now telling them she was not their mother at all.
As the two began to cry, begging for their mother to remember them, Plum began to cry.
‘BABBEHS! MUMMAH AM HEWE! AM HEWE! HUU-HUU… PWEASE! PWOMISE! MUMMAH AM HEWE! AM HEW-’
“Hmm? Why Pwum hab wawa in see-pwaces? Nu hab heawt-huwties?”
As the Hoomins took their prizes, they mapped out another herd nearby, with a bounty of 200 dollars on their heads for eating a months work of grain from a nearby farm.
As Margret Cried, Plum smiled, humming the Familiar tune Margret had once hummed to Sprig and Rocky as they fed, just this morning, unaware she had done this over, and over, and over again. Each time a different name, each time different foals…
Every time… A Different Fluffy.
