Thunder rolls.
It rolls a natural 20.
You shiver as the scary sky noise starts again. The bright sky flashy before it is scary enough. And the sky wawas.
You’ve heard, from fluffies in other herds, that on dark times like these, the Bone Fluff is about.
Word of the Bone Fluff has spread fast as news can among fluffies. The Bone Fluff, who comes for fluffies who have gone forever sleepies, or soon will. Some fluffies, fluffies who narrowly avoided going forever sleepies, claim that they have met the Bone Fluff, and boast of having laughed at him, and spraying sorry poopies in his face before escaping his clutches.
You hope you never see him. But you’ve probably come close more times than you can count. (That’s eight. Most toughies can barely manage counting to three.)
It’s tough, being a toughy. But someone’s got to protect the herd during the dark times.
You wish you were sleeping under the big hollow tree with the rest of the herd.
GUD EBENING.
You jump. Who said that?!?
OH, WEWAX. DEATH OF FWUFFIES NU HEWE FOW ANEE OF YU DIS DAWK TIME. JUS WAN GET OWT OF DA WAIN. WAWA AM BAD FOW FWUFFIES. BUT YU KNU DAT.
You do know that. You’ve seen lots of fluffies drown.
SCOOCH OBA, WIWW YU?
You oblige the Bone Fluff and move aside, and after he sits down, you turn to the grim spectre standing beside you, sheltered from the sky wawas. As you look at him, you feel a strange feeling you’ve never felt before, that you can’t quite describe, and don’t have a word for. (It’s déjà vu.)
He’s holding his hoof up, and on it is a strange object.
It looks like the pretty thing you found once, that you have safely stashed away in your nestie under the tree. A thing made of see through stuff, two round things connected together, with sandies in one of the round things. You experimented with it, slowly standing it up, and watching the sandies pour from one end to the other, then turning it upside down, watching the sandies pour down again. You’re actually pretty smart for a toughy (in fact, you’ve sometimes wondered why you’re not the herd’s smarty, but you’re smart enough not to bring it up to the smarty), and you figured out that you can use it to measure time.
This one is different. It’s lined with dark blue fluff, the exact shade of blue as… your fluff. Most of the sandies are in the top round thing. They’re green, like your see-places. Exactly like your see-places.
You realize exactly what you’re looking at. Toughy, this is your life.
The Bone Fluff sees you looking at him looking at the sandie thing, puts the sandie thing away, and reassuredly pats you on the back with a bony hoof. You feel a chill go down your spine as he does.
YU NU NEE WOWWY. YU STIWW HAF PWENTY OF TIME WEFT. he assures you, in tones deep and dark as the grave. His eyes, two tiny pinpricks of blue light in his eye sockets, twinkle briefly.
“Wha abowt da west of da hewd?” you ask, tilting your head toward the tree.
DEATH OF FWUFFIES GON BE CUMIN BACKSIES NEX WEEK. HEWD GUN FINE FWIED CHIKKIN NUMMIES, SMAWTY GET FIWST NUM, CHOKE ON CHIKKIN BONESIES. BUT NU SAY ANYFING, OTAY? IF SMAWTY FINE OWT, AN NU NUM CHIKKIN NUMMIES, SMAWTY NU GO FOWEBA SWEEPIES, AN DEN DEATH OF FWUFFIES GET IN TWUBBWE.
One of the lights in his skull flickers out for a second. You realize he’s trying to wink. Fluffies aren’t that good at winking when they do have proper see-places.
“Wai fwuffy get in twubbwe?”
BECUS SMAWTY SUPPOWSED TU GU FOWEBA SWEEPIES WEN IT TIME.
You’re willing to obey the Bone Fluff’s request. You never really liked the smarty that much, and you’ll be glad to see him go. You don’t feel sorry for him, but you feel sorry for his special friend and their babbehs, and you’ll know they’ll all be happier when he’s gone. A lot of the fluffies in the herd have privately admitted that they think you’d make a better smarty, so this might even be an opportunity for you!
WAIN AM WETTING UP. FINK IT TIME FOW DEATH OF FWUFFIES TU GU. DEWE A FWUFFY IN A AWWYWAY GUN PICK A FITE WIF A KITTY MUNSTAH. GUESS WHU GUN WIN.
You don’t need to guess. You’ve seen lots of fluffies get mauled by kitty munstahs too, and your herd has learned to avoid them. Or at least, the members of your herd too stupid to avoid them aren’t around anymore.
The Bone Fluff gets up, and before he leaves, seems to remember something, and turns to you.
WUN MOWE FING. WHEN HEWD FINE CHIKKEN NUMMIES NEX WEEK, MAKE SUWE ONWY SMAWTY NUM DEM. OTAY?
He winks again.
“Otay.”
He nods, and salutes you with a bony hoof.
BE SEEIN YU.
The Bone Fluff stalks off into the night.
As the scary sky noises start up again, you curl up and shiver. Eventually, you drift off to sleep.
You wake up with a start when you have a bad sleepy picture. It’s the one you have a lot of dark times. The one with all the scary pointy sorry sticks, with fluffies on them. From experience, you know you’re not getting any more sleep tonight. And the night is far from over.
It’s tough, being a toughy. But hey, at least now you have something to look forward to.
