Part Eight
Syrup watched as Blockhead dragged herself, chirping in pain and distress, towards the litterbox. She wouldn’t make it, but Syrup’s advice to just stay there had been rejected. Blockhead’s pride, the only thing she had left now, kept her from taking the easier option. So instead she dragged herself along, painful and futile though it was.
“Nu wan sowwy-stick 'gain,” Blockhead muttered to herself. “Stumpy-owwies am wowstest owwies. Nu wan. Nu wan. Nu wan.”
But the outcome was always going to be the same, and Blockhead’s painful dragging progress was too slow. She wasn’t going to make it in time, and another vicious bout of sorry-sticking would commence. Tears matted the fluff around her eyes, an all-to-common sight since she’d lost her legs.
Syrup couldn’t stand watching, but couldn’t look away. She knew she shouldn’t help, knew that Blockhead needed to learn how to live like she was, but it was so hard to watch. She trembled, desperately wanting to help but dreading the punishment she’d surely get as a result. The same internal battle she’d fought so many times seethed within her, and tears blurred her eyes.
Finally, she reached a decision. Her daddeh was wrong! He couldn’t see the suffering that Blockhead was going through. He didn’t realize that no matter how much she struggled, she’d never be able to live like she was. That she needed help! Punishment or no, Syrup couldn’t just stand by and watch any longer.
She moved, her desperate sister not even noticing her presence, and used her shoulder to lift Blockhead as best she could. “Nu maek noisies,” she murmured, as she struggled to help her sister, still larger than her, move. Her legs ached and trembled from the strain, but she didn’t give up.
Progress was slow, but still many times faster than Blockhead could move on her own with her one remaining leg. Even better, it wasn’t nearly as painful as having the stumps, never allowed time to heal and perpetually raw, dragged across the floor. Most importantly, however, it gave Blockhead a ray of hope.
Eventually, they made it, and Syrup collapsed gratefully. Her once-fractured leg, although mostly heal, was protesting at this overuse. It was worth it, though. Worth it to see her sister not suffering, to see an expression of happiness after so long. For the first time in many forevers, she didn’t her daddeh’s return. This time, he wouldn’t have to punish Blockhead.
…
They developed a sort of daily schedule, eventually. Blockhead would stay close to the litterbox when daddeh was home, so she could make it there on her own. When daddeh was away, Syrup would help her sister get to and from her nest. Slowly, Blockhead crept out of the despair that her life had become, and even became a little happy.
…
“Syrup?” daddeh called her one day.
“Yes, daddeh?”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Syrup froze, both confused by the question and terrified by the quiet menace in daddeh’s tone. “Nu!”
“Then why did you think I wouldn’t notice that you’ve been helping Blockhead move around?”
Syrup began to shake, and tears crept to her eyes. “Sywup am sowwy! Nu wan bweak wuwes, bu’ nu coud stan’ seein’ Blockhead hab owwies ebewy bwight-time!”
“Are you really sorry?”
“Sywup am sowwy!”
“Then why did you keep doing it? If it was a mistake, why didn’t you stop?”
Syrup couldn’t answer, and burst into tears. Daddeh grabbed her roughly, drawing a squeak of terror and pain. After a moment, he relaxed his grasp, but it was still far to tight to escape from, so Syrup just cried and didn’t even struggle as he carried her into the kitchen.
She was set down on a chair, too high to jump down from. She lay there cowering, covering her eyes as strange noises she didn’t understand came from the sink, then the stovetop. She smelled hot metal, and something primal in her screamed that it was bad, that it was dangerous, but she had no avenue of escape.
Soon, however, she smelled something different, and she uncovered her eyes in time to see a dish set down in front of her, laden with more sketties than she’d ever seen in one place. “Wut?”
“Remember when I said you shouldn’t help your sister?”
Syrup was confused. “Sywup 'membew.”
“That was a test. I wanted to see if you’d be willing to risk punishment to help her.”
“Sywup nu undastan’!”
“I wanted to see if you were a very good fluffy, and you were.”
“Sywup nu git sowwy-stick?”
“No. This time only, I won’t punish you for not doing what I said to. Go ahead and eat, but listen, there’s something I want to tell you about. Do you know what a nurse-mare is?”
“Nu.”
“A nurse-mare is a fluffy who takes care of babbehs who don’t have mummahs. She gives them milkies, and huggies, and love, and plays with them, and makes sure they grow up to be good, strong fluffies.”
“Su nuwse-mawe hab wotsa babbehs?”
“Once they grow up, the babbehs have to leave, and they aren’t babbehs of their own, but yes, nurse-mares have lots of babbehs. Syrup, there are a lot of babbehs who need nurse-mares. When you get bigger, would you want to help them? Can you be a nurse-mare so the babbehs can grow up to be good fluffies?”
“Sywup can be nuwse-mawe? Bu’ Sywup am poopie-fwuffy!”
For an instant, daddeh’s expression and tone grew harsh. “I told you not to call yourself that. You’re better than that.”
“Sywup sowwy!”
“So, do you want to? It’ll be very hard, and there’s a lot of things you need to learn, and you have to be the very best fluffy you can be.”
“Sywup can gib wub tu babbehs wib nu famiwy?”
“That’s right.”
“Sywup wan!”
Daddeh smiled, but Syrup couldn’t see or understand the legitimate happiness and pride in it. Actually, she couldn’t see it at all, since her vision was blurred with tears of relief and happiness. She was going to help lots of babbehs! She was going to be the best nurse-mare ever!
Part Ten
13 Likes
Hmm, I theorising that either Blockhead will be made to have foals then cause she can’t look after them she has to watch Syrup raise her babbehs.
Or, Syrup will be with the foals just long enough to to connect with them before they have to leave. Going through the same emotional rollercoaster over and over should slowly break her down.
And if it’s not the second option then I’m taking it for myself
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On the one hand I live this. On the other I sense DOOOOOOOOOOOOM