Where the Poopie Babbehs Go
By @Za
Originally Penned January 27th, 2020
Chapter Six:
Head in the Clouds
You are Strong Branch.
Or… you thought you were. When you were a little baby, your daddeh had given you an… identity, you thought it was called. You were Strong Branch; babbeh of Big Tree and Blooming Flower, brother of Cloud Softies, and a member of the tribe of the poopie babbehs. But when you saw your reflection in the wawas… you remembered just how little of that was true anymore.
You had been laying there for one bright-time at least. There, on the path, next to your brother’s corpse. You had tried to shoo away any birdy monsters that had tried making nummies out of him, but you couldn’t reach the nailed-up foal well enough. He was much higher up on the tree than you could even hope to jump. And so, your brother hung there and decayed. Every time you opened your eyes and wiped away the sad wawas, something new was missing. Not just from your brother, but from your heart.
Your tummy growled, begging for nummies and wawas. You couldn’t do anything about that. Nothing could ever prepare you to say goodbye to your brother for the last time. But… you had to avenge the fallen members of your tribe. It was your instincts to treat huggies and love as your go-to solution for all problems. But this time? It wasn’t even an option. Fast Hoofsie was going to go forever sleepies. No… sleepies were nice. Sleepies were something to be enjoyed. Fast Hoofsie was going to suffer. Fast Hoofsie was going to die.
Footsteps from down the path drew your attention. Worried that it may be a monster, you closed your eyes and tried not to tremble with fear. You could also hear voices, and you could tell from the pitches that these were definitely humans and not fluffies. You hoped they were nice mistahs, rather than meanies like the ones that took your father from you.
“So it’s dead?” one asked the other, his gruff voice sending chills down your spine. You tensed up, debating whether you should stay still or make a run for it. “Yeah, that one shit-brown smarty’s kid? That’s what Seether told me,” a slightly less menacing voice said. He snickered slightly. “Oh, sorry… that’s what ‘Smarty Fast Hoofsie’ said!” he laughed mockingly. The footsteps drew nearer, but you didn’t pay them any kind. Why were these humans talking to Fast Hoofsie? Maybe he had found a way to reach peace between your tribe and the hunter monsters? But… why did he say you were dead? You laid there, frozen as they walked by you. One stood just in front of you, hopefully looking anywhere but at you. He paused, examining something. “Yeah, that’s him alright.” Oh god, they were looking at you. Oh no… this was where you died. You prepared yourself to jump up and fight. It was a race you couldn’t win, so your only choice was to grab a sharp rock and defend yourself like all non-toughies were taught to do. “Nailed to a tree… this is definitely Shaw’s handiwork.” Wait, what? You were on the ground. These humans sure weren’t smart. “Yeah, it had good colors though,” the gruff-voiced one stated. “I don’t care about money, Jack. I care about killing these damn things.” They both stood silently for a moment, and you felt their see-places burning into your fluff. “I don’t see any stabs or slices in this brown earthie, so I know Shaw didn’t do this one,” scrupulously said the one you had identified as Jack. The other waved him off, adding “These things die because of stupid shit all the time, this one probably shit its heart out when it saw the kid.” The pair laughed until a very staticky voice interrupted them. “Jack, Neil, where y’all at?” called the extremely gruff man from the loud talkie box attached to Neil’s hip. “Ya find that kid yet? Don’t tell me I gotta come find it for yins.” Neil sighed, scratching his beard. “Nah, we got the little shit. Were the nails necessary?” The talkie box responded, “It’s always about what’s necessary with you Neil, ain’t you ever had fun before?” The pair groaned, prying the nails from your brother’s body with a sickening rip. They groaned, retching as if they would make sicky wawas. “Tell Seether I don’t give a goddamn if the dead bodies attract predators,” Neil choked, “I ain’t picking up another rotting corpse.” One set of footsteps began heading back the way they came. They paused, and the one you identified as Jack turned around. “You coming?” he called. The other didn’t reply for a moment. “Should we take this one?” Neil asked, prodding you with his boot. You held your muzzle shut as tightly as you could. If you made a sound now, it was over. “Nah, leave it,” Jack replied thoughtfully. “We’re here for the smarty’s kid, and only the smarty’s kid.” Satisfied with that answer, Neil hummed and headed off back to the human land with Jack… your brother’s corpse in tow. You couldn’t stop them, no matter how badly you wanted to. Once you were content that they had gone, you broke down and let the sad wawas stain your fluff. “Su sowwies bwuddah.” They said they were only here for the smarty’s - your daddeh’s - babbeh. You supposed that Fast Hoofsie, or Seether as the humans called him, meant for them to take you instead. They were going to be big sorries for leaving you alive.
You forced yourself up from the ground, turning back towards the village. Fast Hoofsie had to die, there was no question anymore. You could forgive him for making the wrong call with Grassies Green, and you even could forgive him for leaving you. But he got your brother killed. That sealed his fate. You looked up at the tree. It was marked with boo-boo juice and holes where Cloud Softies had his hoofsies nailed in. There was no use missing him, he was already gone. The bright-ball was shining in the sky above. Clouds passed overhead, one of which you could swear looked just like your brother. It was a beautiful day; the bright, shining sky was accompanied by a gentle wind. You were almost sad you had to do this today. You began slowly down the path, taking in the trees. They stood tall above you, just like your daddeh had when you were little. You missed him. You missed your brother. You missed being happy.
As you approached the village, you could hear lots of distant crying and talking. You crept up slowly, tuning in to a voice that sounded like Fast Hoofsie. “I know, Bwooming Fwower. I know…” he sighed over the deafening wails of who you could only assume was your mother. “Is saddies, but you have to be strong. I know your speciaw friend and babbehs wouwd wan dat.” He was a monster. He sat there and comforted your mummah after causing the deaths that gave her heart-hurties in the first place. It made you so angry. So… so angry. Your vision turned red as you puffed up and thundered into the clearing. You gritted your teeth and leapt at Fast Hoofsie, letting out a screeching war cry. He squealed in terror, his wide see-places staring at you as you closed in. You gripped his mane with your teeth, causing him to squeal again. You ripped a chunk of thick black hair from the smarty, spitting it out and sinking your teeth back into his scar-covered fluff. He pushed you away, still screaming. By this time, the entire tribe was gathered around you and Fast Hoofsie. You stared each other down. Your gaze radiated hatred and determination, while his was one of anger and confusion. Everyone stood silently, except your still crying mummah. “You were supposed to DIE,” he spat, narrowing his see-places. You replied through gritted toothies. “Ou s’posed tu be gud smawty. Fas’ Hoofsie s’posed pwotec twibe, buh gib bigges’ huwties instead.” He scoffed, looking at the ground regretfully. “I’m not Fast Hoofsie anymore, I’m Seether.” You looked back at him, and he seemed… truly sorry. This wasn’t the Fast Hoofsie you knew when you were a babbeh. You didn’t know what happened, but maybe peace was an option after all. You remembered the trips you and your daddeh took with him to the stream or the berry nummie patch. You approached him slowly, causing him to recoil in fear. You froze, scrutinizing his expression. It was one of true sadness. “The humans… took care of Seether- I mean, of me, since I was only a little babbeh,” sighed the smarty, sniffling as sad wawas began to trickle from his see-places. “Ou am gud fwuffy,” you told him, continuing forward and placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Nee’ ou. Jus’ nu mowe huwties fow twibe.”
He smiled weakly, placing a hoof on your shoulder in return. “Th-f-fank ou,” he chirped gently as he succumbed to his tears. You held him tightly as he babbled through his wailing cries. This fluffy had biggest thinkie-sickies, you thought. It would take a lot of huggies and love to fix this. “Is otay, Seevew…” you cooed, tightening your huggies even more. “Nu, Stwong Bwanch,” he said, rising from your fluff and locking see-places with you, “am Fas’ Hoofsie fowebah nao.”
He turned to the crowd that had gathered around you, still silent. “Su sowwies,” he sighed. “Fowgib fwuffy?” No one spoke a word. They all glared at him, unwavering. “Wuh bout Gwassies Gween?” piped up a purple mare you recognized as Grassies Green’s special friend. “Wuh bout Cwoud Softies? An Big Twee?” your mummah growled menacingly, puffing herself up. “Wuh bout Bwoo Sky?” called out Blue Sky’s sister. They all slowly converged on Fast Hoofsie, who was crouched down and covering his face. “Huu huu… su sowwies fow gib fwens fowebah sweepies…” he sobbed, straining to keep his voice up. The crowd continued forward, unfazed by his apology. You knew that he deserved this, but some part of you knew this wasn’t right. You stepped in front of the crowd. “Stahp!” you cried, “Nu gib Fas’ Hoofsie huwties!” They stopped, backing away several paces. “Wai? Munstah fwuffy gib fowebah sweepies to twibe fwens!” a young olive alicorn cheeped from the back of the crowd. You stood up on your hind leggies, wobbling as you struggled to stabilize yourself. You scanned the faces looking up at you. Mixtures of worry, anger, and confusion decorated the crowd. “If twibe gib fowebah sweepies fow Fas’ Hoofsie, twibe am bigges’ meanies.” They all looked up at you, clearly not following. “Wike hooman munstahs.” A collective gasp of realization and scaredies enveloped the clearing. Everyone turned, quietly murmuring to each other, some crying. “See?” you began, turning to Grassies Green’s special friend. “Fowebah sweepies nu gib wakies tu oddah fowebah sweepies fwuffies!” The cries of the crowd stifled into weak sniffles. “What do we- fwuffy mean, wuh do nao?” Fast Hoofsie asked, grinning cautiously. You looked back at him confusedly, wondering what he meant. “Fas’ Hoofsie am smawty,” you told him, “Fas’ Hoofsie decide.” He looked down at the ground, his eyes shut. “Nu wan be smawty,” Fast Hoofsie told you, turning away. “Nu desewb it. Ou am nyu smawty.” The crowd around you began to cheer your name proudly as Fast Hoofsie disappeared into the crowd.
You pushed through the wall of fluffies, slowly marching towards the Smarty Nestie with No See at your side. You had a lot to do, and even more to live up to. Being a smarty was your daddeh’s legacy, and you couldn’t let him down. You took a seat on the floor, around the old box that the smarties used as a table. This seat, at the left of No See, was once your daddeh’s. It still smelled like him, reminding you of times long past. After a long silence, you looked up. You would’ve turned to No See, but you understood that the gesture would be wasted. “Wuh nao?” you asked shortly, racking your think-place for any idea that remotely fell within the pacifist ideals of your tribe. No See didn’t so much as inhale. He simply sat there, unmoving. You began to repeat yourself. “Uhh… wuh na-” He shushed you, causing you to recoil into a stiff state. “Thinkies.” You sat, staring at him for a short while. His face slowly twisted into one of mourning. You could only imagine how many fluffies he had seen go forever sleepies since becoming a smarty so long ago. He slammed his hoofsies angrily against the table, flipping it over. “Eep!” You jumped away, scaredies from the sudden outburst. He stared down at where the table once sat, huffing deeply. “Nao,” he grumbled, turning to face your general direction, “twibe gu tu waw.” You gasped, almost making poopies from how surprised you were by the mere suggestion of violence from the village elder. “Buh da twibe wuwes say fwuffies nu gib fowebah sweepies EBAH!” you spat, half-coherently. Your heart was beating rapidly, adrenaline coursing through you. He stood silently once more, giving you time to calm down. Still staring, he opened his mouth to speak. “Stwong Bwanch,” he muttered, “see scwatchies on da waww?” You scanned the room, eventually finding a part of the wall with many markings on it and a sharp rock on the floor below. You hummed affirmatively. “Pick up da wock,” he commanded. Make anuddah." You did as you were told without question. When the scratching stopped and he heard the rock hit the floor, he asked you “How many scwatchies?” You counted, eventually settling on a number. “Fibe an fibe an fibe an thwee.” He nodded. “Da thiwd of thwee is fow Cwoud Softies.” Your mouth hung open in shock. You tried and tried to express how you felt, but no talkies would come. “Das how many fwuffies gu fowebah sweepies since twibe stawt,” he told you solemnly. “Aww buh one fwom hoomans.” Sad wawas formed in your see-places. You dropped to the floor, your mouth still agape. You stared up at the number. Five and five and five and three. That was so many. “Nu…” you gasped simply, wiping your sad wawas away. “Dey nebah stahp,” he commented gruffly, waddling over in your general direction. You remembered those who had gone forever sleepies. You knew them. They were your family, your friends, your tribe. A deep anger, something you hadn’t felt even for Fast Hoofsie, burned inside you like the bright-ball. You turned to him. “Twibe make dem stahp,” you spat, gritting your toothies. He nodded. “Nu mowe huggies. Nu mowe sowwies. Onwy huwties fow dummeh hoomans.”
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