PART 5
👇Good riddance.
Zebra watched as the plum furred stallion ran for the hills, chased by two toughies.
The herd meeting entailing Grape and his grave misdemeanours was one full of even more bloodlust than Muscari and Rose’s, despite the things that the two did being objectively worse –
but fluffies weren’t known for their cognitive skills.
The overwhelming majority wanted Grape dead, which Zebra understood – he hated nothing more than fluffies who attacked defenceless, innocent foals – yet he tried to shy away from capital punishment…after all, Grape was, by all means, the role model fluffy.
Well, before he ruthlessly murdered his own day-old children.
As the distant screams of the pegasus rung about the hills, Zebra furrowed his brows: it seemed that the head start and pegasus genes were no match against enraged toughies.
Yes, he agreed with the herd in saying Grape should pay an eye for an eye, but his growing concern was the message this might spread to the herd.
They were already tainted as is: Grape proved that. It seemed under the tyranny of poisonous, terrible fluffies, some of that horrible attitude had seeped into even the most stalwart fluffies.
Gwape sowwy…"
The smarty shook his head, peering up at the Great Sequoia Tree: he would be forgiven, but the act of filicide had a costly repercussion:
Grape would have to get used to a diet of shit and water.
The Giant Tree’s branches were becoming more and more visible by the day, showers of dry leaves created ever-growing piles of Autumn debris.
He put two and two together and, in a rather rare moment of exceeding fluffy intelligence, he realised it had been a long time since he had overthrown March, long enough for the seasons to loop around again.
Despite the bleak weather, he smiled a little bit.
He knew what season was next:
Winter.
A time of snow, wind, starvation, and death.
Hell, last winter half the herd damn near starved to death…
All while March and his family gorged themselves silly.
The earthy snorted, his eyes glistening with a rekindled hatred.
It was because of them, those piggish, selfish fluffies, that there was so much suffering last winter.
He vividly remembered on one of the most bitter nights…
March, Lily, Muscari and Rose sat curled with each other ontop of the hill. Down below, a starving Zebra could hear their giggles of delight, eerily carried by the wind like a cruel reminder of his situation.
Emaciated fluffiees were strewn around the ground around him. Some were so desperate as to gnaw on the bark of the Great Sequoia while others simply cried as they wasted away.
Entire families were wiped out, including…
By the next meeting he would make it law that if Rose bore any foals, they would be taken away from her: what happened to them after would rely on the mercy of the fluffies taking them.
That would teach the rotten mare. If her brother could be cured of his budding smarty syndrome, then it was clear she was acting like a bitch out of her own volition.
The reminder of the hard times his herd was made to endure last year shook Zebra, and with the battle with winter looming around the corner, he decided to hold a celebration.
A celebration of the herd’s liberation and to allow the herd a feast before hard times came. A celebration of how far the herd had come in just a year
And so, the first annual Day of Retribution celebration commenced.
And Rose’s fate was sealed.
