You are a foal.
You don’t know what color you are yet, but you feel warm, and that feels good enough right now. When i say, you don’t know what color you are yet, it isn’t because your blind, or defective. You simply do not know.
You do know you have wings, as you can feel them buzz with each small gulp of milk you consume.
It is dark. You hate the dark. But the scent and warmth are enough to drive the fear away.
And the Milk ain’t half bad neither.
What you assume is your mother, produces milk, her miwky-pwace is strange and feels off, but not enough for you to care.
Your warm. You have Miwk, and you are safe.
If you could see your surrounding, or hear the muffled, anguished cries of the breeding-mares that lined the walls of the factory you were born in, you would be very afraid.
You were born into a massive Fluffy breeding mill, one of the few left in America… Sadly, it was considered one of the worst, in terms of care and upkeep. Only the bare minimum to make sure your mother, as well as the countless other mares were kept alive.
The Stallions were far worse off. As they were fed the bare minimum, and sometimes the trash foals that the two to three shit-factories produced…
The only upside to your birth, is that you are actually being sent away, by truck, or plane, or even by boat, to God knows where. There you will most likely be adopted, as you may not know it, but you are a Pastel Pink Pegasus, with great genes.
You were born not even Three days before you were separated from your brothers and sisters. The lucky ones, were nearby, in separate holding crates, also being fed.
The unlucky ones, were tossed back to their father, and quickly devoured. You never heard their cheeps, or their pained cries as your father, a prime breeding stud, gnawed and chewed into them, greedily devouring the siblings…
Thankfully, your destiny was much brighter than the poor unwanted shit foals. You were destined for love, and a loving family, at least, for a while…
A family that would take care of you, love you, and even let you acquire a mate.
He would be named Spearmint, and coincidentally, he would be purchased from the same mill.
Coincidentally, you would catch a familiar scent from him, one that you didn’t think was possible.
The familiar scent of your mother…
No… More than that…
The familiar scent of…
Family…
Sadly… He would not catch the scent…
He would blame you for the incestuous foals deformities…
You would only be able to watch as your mate, a distant relative, born from the same mother, stomped, killed, and forced you-… to eat the foals…
You would be found by your owners, and blamed…
Your Human Mummah, would curse you, and beat you, crying all the while you were just trying to explain that it wasn’t your doing.
You would be tossed to the street…
You would be hit by an oncoming car, hidden by the overwhelming sound of rain…
You never saw Spearmint’s face, or how he smiled as the life left you body… As he was taken into the home you were cared for, loved in, and nurtured…
Thankfully, you were one of the better off foals… You were destined for love, and a loving family…
At least…
For a little while…