The dawn of the first day of September marked the start of the revolt.
The air was crisp, crackling with tension as thick as butter.
Flurries of brown leaves fell periodically as the Giant Sequoia tree shed its cover in preparation for the winter.
It was in one of these piles of leaves that Zebra slept in, but he wasn’t there now.
Now, in the earliest hours of the morning, he crept up the hill: heading towards the arrogant family sleeping at the top.
His heart pounded with anticipation and a little excitement: March was an Earthy like him, so there would be no racial advantage, but March had grown lazy. While he grew fat on the food of the herd, Zebra had grown lean and strong, even if it was a product of his diminutive diet and the backbreaking labour he was required to do as a toughie friend.
Well, backbreaking for a fluffy.
He roared his battle cry, waking up the family, more specifically March, who had his cheeks puffed in annoyance.
“Stoopi Zebwa, wai ou waek up smawty?!”
Zebra snorted, stomping his cloven hooves. His genetics were funky, even by fluffy standards, but it benefitted him as his hooves were cloven: divided in two and wrapped in a hard, black keratin shell.
“Ou nu gunna be smawty fow wong, Zebwa wan be smawty!”
March narrowed his eyes, a flick of his tail signalling his family to get behind him. Zebra then charged, and March followed suit.
Right off the bat, March turned and bucked Zebra square in the jaw in one fluid movement. The grey stallion squealed and fell back: the attack was so quick he hardly realised what happened.
Before he could regain his footing, March had him pinned, a padded hoof pressed firmly against Zebra’s throat.
“Zebwa gunna gu foweba sweepies an nu fwuffy wiww eben knu.” March hissed in Zebra’s ear.
He struggled, but the red stallion was far heavier than him.
His thrashing grew weaker, and panic set in.
He was going to die.
He would die just another one of March’s kills.
He snapped out of his terrified stupor, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he dug his hind legs into March’s soft underbelly, then kicked at his back leg as hard as he could.
A satisfying crack and a pained scream affirmed Zebra’s hopes and March reared back, only to crumple, unable to support his weight with a broken back leg.
The tables had turned drastically, and now March was sprawled on the grass, kicking ineffectively and screaming.
“WAI WEGGIES NU WOWK?! WEGGIES PWEASE WOWK FOW BESTEST SMAWTY!”
“Weggies nu wowk becah ou nu bestest smawty…”
Zebra walked towards the incapacitated stallion. His pleas for mercy only elicited a smile on the grey earthy’s face.
He reared, then plunged his hooves into March’s skull. His hardened hooves cut flesh and broke bone significantly faster than the usual padded hooves, so it only took a single stomp to kill the blubbering earthy.
“SCREEEEEEE! MUMMAH, SABE BESTES BABBEH!”
His ears flicked, and his attention was drawn to the rest of the family:
The filly was screaming incessantly while the colt puffed his little cheeks, standing infront of his sister.
“Gu way dummeh! Ow Muscawi gunna gib ou bigges huwties!”
Zebra snorted, but before he could even speak, a horned, pink ball of fury barrelled towards him.
“WIWY GUNNA GIB OU WOWSTES OWWIES!”
He dodged the attack quite easily, turning to face the enraged unicorn.
Now, Zebra was quite nervous.