The moment Nestor removed the outer section, the orange filly and the lime-colored talkies bolted out of the pen, taking in the wider world their newly opened box allowed them and quickly seeming to forget his earlier promise of sketties.
He watched them stretch out their legs with a brief game of huggy tag as a couple of chirpies, the daker purple one and the red one specifically crawled blindly out of the box and pawed at the wet sand beneath them.
He sat across from the only obvious exit from the safe circles, a small hole in the wall that he would hesitate to call a âgateâ. He watched as the puke green alicorn tried to stop the two of them, trying to talk, only to have them ignore him in favor of playing.
âNyu f-fwiends wai, daddeh say da-â
âUgwy poopie munstah babbeh nu tawkies tu bestest, bestest wan wun an pway! Nu yu fwiend!â
âTeehee! Wub wun an pway wif nyu fwiend!
It was almost endearing to see the puke colored one trying to tell them the rules, even though Nestor had pretty much written off all of them as being fodder for this game. If the rumours about alicorn intelligence were true, perhaps he would be the one to win.
Then Nestorâs eyes drifted past the three talkies toward the hole in the fence he tentatively called a gate. He wasnât exactly sure how but one of the chirpies, the kinda off puke colored green on had managed to blindly wiggle her way over to just barely behind the X line.
He looked back to the other fluffies, realizing that none of them had noticed it being out of the box.
The lime green one had tripped over the red chirpy and was now crying in a heap in the sand while the orange one smacked at the chirpy for âtripping her friendâ, all while the poor alicorn tried to calm the situation and got pushed over for his efforts.
Wordlessly, Nestor reached down and grabbed the chirpy as she just touched the line, dragging her semi-limp back hooves lightly in the sand to leave a mark, and stowed her in one of the crumpled-up balls of wrapping paper from his backpack.
After hiding the foal nearby to his other gifts and ensuring that the others could not hear her, and sat back down by the log.
He split his attention between quietly watching the little dysfunctional rodentsâ bicker with each other, and planning a figurine sculpt for the Build-a-Bitz he would need for later.
None of them seemed to notice the disappearance of the little earthy filly, being too caught up in the afternoons activities to notice the absence of a chirpy they hadnât seen much of before.
Looking up toward the slowly darkening sky, Nestor clapped his hands.
âOkay everyfluffy, everyone back into fort Toybox!â He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands toward the plastic box he pulled them from.
âNu wan gu in stoopi boxie! Wan wun an pway!â The orange filly barked back at him.
âOh, well, my mistake. I though that since its gonna be dark time soon you would want to sleep in the fort with the food and the warm and not out here with the monsters. But hey, thatâs cool, I respect your moxie!â
That speech quickly convinced the lot of them to run back into the box, which he quickly resealed with the lid and side panel.
He then retrieved a small aerosol can from the side of the box where the feeder he retrieved earlier was, a canister of stasis gas.
Looking over the can he realized he would have to pick up more, there was only a night more worth of the stuff left in here and he was going to need to put them down for at least a week if not more. Good thing it was cheap, being a fluffy by-product and all.
Nestor pressed the cans release mechanism into the small chamber for the gas until he heard the hissing stopped. Quickly packing up his things, Nestor began the slow walk back to his house.
-=-
Nestor didnât go directly for the house though; he went for the garage.
Heading straight for one of the far back tables he pulled out the small bundle of wrapping paper that held the puke colored earthy, who had managed to both soil herself and fall asleep in it in the intervening hour.
Laying the foal out on the table he quickly retrieved a few small tools and laid them out around the sleeping chirpy as it cooed and suckled on one of its hooves. He though he remembered how to do this, although heâd only ever seen his brother do it once.
Nestor picked up a small elastic band between this thumb, index and middle fingers. He then hooked the elastic around the foalâs head, knocking the hoof out of its mouth much to its dismay, before letting the elastic snap tight around its neck.
âPeep! Pee-HHK! KAFF! KAF! PE-KAF! HHHK!â
The foal immediately started tapping its hooves in rapid succession on the table of the trying to cry out but only releasing choked half chirps instead.
It pawed, frantically and blindly at the elastic trying to get it off, but its dull soft hooves couldnât seem to grasp it.
Nestor watched as the foalâs eyes slowly half opened, before snapping into a wide-eyed panic as it seemed to enter the same talkie stage as the brown turd from earlier.
Is said nothing, trying desperately to form words but finding nothing but panic, choking and sudden, creeping dark at the periphery of her vision.
Nestor waited a few seconds, timing it out by tapping his wrist, before cutting the elastic and allowing the foals limp body to roll over onto its back, picking up a scalpel and setting to work.