The Good Herd || Part Nine || (stArlogintonsp)

LINK TO PART 8 HERE

:point_down:

The terrain morphs in familiar ways as winter begins. The weather grows cool on the Good Herd’s land and winds blow away the fallen leaves of the Great Sequoia Tree. All that remains are a handful of browning leaves which provide little shelter. The earth beneath the fluffies begin to harden and the berries grow sparsely.

A lone buzzard glides overhead:

He is lazy today.

”Chocwate! Sowwy, nu meen tu bovew ou…”

Rose shyly approached the sunflower yellow mare, who smiled sweetly.

”Is fine! Wus ouw namesies?”

Soon enough, Rose was talking freely with the other mare.

She was a pretty thing, named Dandelion for her yellow fur and deep verdant mane. She originated from a herd far over the hills and had an affinity for herb usage, though when she plainly revealed she knew as much as she did about healing because she was an alicorn Rose gave her a wary look.

”Wat, Ouw tink am a munstah?”
Dandelion warned, drawing away.

”Huh? Nu! Wose jus confuzed becah ou dun hab pointie fwing.”

”Oh! Das becah id got bwoken!”
She beamed, vitality returning to her.

This interaction was the first of many, the two mares growing closer as their children played with one another. The upbeat pegasus was a breath of fresh air and normality for Rose: how long had it been since another mare had spoken kindly to her? What’s more, Dandelion was fiercely protective, and despite learning of Rose’s past she harboured no ill feelings towards her, even warding off stallions looking for some release…

”Stawbewwy ou am it!”

”Wahhh! Wun ‘way!”

Rose couldn’t help but smile.
Chocolate had grown into a fine talkie babbeh, with a heart of gold and amber eyes to match. Though a hind leg of his was slightly twisted in an odd way, he had still flourished, hobbling easily alongside his playmates.
They were the only foals he ever got to play with, seeing as most others only saw him as an extension of his foster mother and fed poisonous stories by their own parents.

The filly was Strawberry, a rich pink winged foal with a light pink mane and the colt was Cucumber, a dark green earthy foal with a lighter green mane, striped with white.

”Gotchu!”

”Ehhh?! Nu faiw! Wad wookin at pwetty biwdie!”

That caught Rose’s attention.

She looked to Dandelion – and they both shared a look of worry before peering up at the cool, clear skies.

2 buzzards.

They were circling, with precision reserved for soon to be meals, unnerving the two mares to no end.

“Babbehs, cum bac…” she said a little shakily, drawing her curly tail around the brown foal.

”Nee teww Zebwa, Dandewion hab bad feewing…” she murmured, wings fluttering nervously.

Isn’t intuition a funny thing.

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