Swamp Ponies 1

>You used to live in the city, that much you know.
>It was a long time ago, so it's hard to remember, and probably not worth dwelling on.
>There wasn't very much food there. Most of it was in big metal boxes and cans, and you couldn't get at it.
>There were very high buildings that you walked between, and you would wander around trying to find warm spot after warm spot, but none stayed safe for long.
>Eventually, you got to where buildings were not so tall. This was good, because there were grassies, and hoomans didn't kick you or yell at you so much. You were more able to avoid them.
>You got so talented at finding places away from hoomans that you found a place where it seemed there were none. There were no buildings, only big, pretty trees, and lots of grassies - there were other fluffies living there. That was significant, at the time, as you had never known company.
>You thought that the good times would not end, but sometimes there would still be humans, walking alone among the trees, and you and the other fluffies would hide, just in case. Woods are easy to hide in, if still dangerous in different ways.
>But you kept hiding farther and farther away from the humans just in case they were meanies.
>You got out of the woods, and then you and your friends got to where you are now. The swamp.
>If you could choose, you would take any of the other places you've been over the swamp, even the city. It is a strange and perilous place, but you don't know how to get out of it. You have been lost in the swamp for the majority of your life and it is what you are most familiar with. Maybe it goes on forever, and this is where all fluffy ponies end up - it certainly appears designed to kill your kind.
>For one thing, there is water everywhere - more than enough to drown in, and sometimes covered over with green muck that makes it look like solid ground. You know that you have seen fluffies die that way, though how many is immaterial. It is enough that you know to watch out for it. You also cannot drink water if it has the muck in it, or your poopies will be very bad and you'll feel hungry for days.
>There are animals here that hurt fluffies. In other places there are doggies and kitties, and things that generally know fluffies are not good to eat. The animals here are unaware of it, and attack your kind even though you are mostly fluff instead of meat.
>There is enough of the grassies to eat, but not all the grassies here are good - some taste good, but make your tummy hurt, while others taste bad but don't hurt. A few are rough and can hurt the inside of your mouth, making eating dangerously slow. It takes a lot of foodies to have the energy for the swamp.
>It rains often, and you have to take shelter, but you also need to run from the streams and be high-up when the rain comes, because the water rises. It can come sweeping out of nowhere and carry an unwary fluffy off in a second, never to be seen again.
>And there are the buggies, ensuring that you are never comfortable. You hate them, but there is no way to get rid from them. The big ones don't seem interested in you, but sometimes very little ones will sneak into your fluff. They bite your skin all the time. You itch.
>You endure all this because you must. You were born with an unattractive moss-colored body, you've never had a proper meal in your life and your memory's no better than any other fluffy's. But you are driven to survive.
>It is not just you here. There are three others now, though none of them is from the group that you wandered into the swamp with - all of those went away for good a long time ago, disappearing or sleeping forever. You do not remember things about them, because they no longer matter.
>There is you, and you are the one most important to yourself. You do not have a name because you do not need one; you know who you are, and no one has given you a name. The others you have named, so that you can instruct each individually, and they have accepted the names. They are all named after things you know well.
>Branch is a mud-brown unicorn fluffy. He is a stray, though he does not recognize many of the things you have mentioned to him from the city. You assume this means he has never been there, though he does know about some buildings. He has been with you longest of the fluffies you know now, and while he is not so clever, he has a good memory. Branch can keep straight many things you tell him. He is reliable.
>Dirt is a gray-colored earth pony mare with a pale yellow mane. She is very nice and tries to be a good friend by wanting to play all the time, but she does not know the swamp very well. She is still new to it. There is not much time for play. She is getting big with babies that are going to come out of her.
>Branch says it is because she had the special hugs, though you don't know whether he means the special hugs you tried with her or the ones he did. It isn't important, fluffies don't generally experience jealousy over such things - but you are still not pleased.
>You do not think she should have babies in the swamp. Babies need love and milkies, and a place to stay. You told Dirt this would not work, but she says she is still going to have the babies, and cannot stop being so big. If she gets too big, she won't be able to walk anymore. You don't think she will last very long.
>Last in your group is Bark. Bark does not talk, and will not hug or be hugged. He is a red unicorn with a bright yellow mane - those are not good colors for the swamp, you know. They make it hard to hide.
>Bark is tenacious, though. He has followed you for some time even though it is hard, and he follows the advice you give about where the group should go next. He is not a problem.
>There were others until very recently, but you have put them out of your mind. Once a fluffy pony is not with you anymore, it may as well have never been, because it is not useful. More than you can count have been eaten or drowned or not gotten enough clean water. You can't count high, but death is something that happens every few days, at the very least. Only you are constant to yourself.
>You think the last one to die was called Leaves, but that's not a sure thing. You may have named more than one fluffy Leaves in the past. It doesn't matter and you don't hold onto those details.
>Today you and the group are getting foodies. That's how it generally works. One day is for food and the next is for water. This leads to alternating hunger and thirst, but if you don't dedicate yourself to one or the other you won't find enough of either.
>You're attempting to locate grassies that don't give you bad poopies, or possibly a tasty bush. Eating vines has proven a bad idea in the past, as they are tough and your tummy makes you vomit them back up in big pieces.
>It's too bad. There are a lot of vines in the swamp.
>"Diwt find good gwassies!"
>Dirt gets excited over food easily, because she wants to have lots of milk for her babies when they arrive. Right now she is happy over the wrong kind of grass. It has jagged edges and  you know it tastes sour, as well as cutting the roof of your mouth.
>"Not good gwassies," you explain as calmly as you can. "Bad gwassies. Make mouf owie."
>Dirt looks alarmed, and then swats at the grass with one stubby hoof. "Meanie gwassie! No owie fwuffies!"
>You aren't happy with her reaction. Even if the grass is not nice, yelling at it will not change it. Yelling at anything in the swamp does not change it, it only makes noise that invites trouble. You learned that so long ago that it's ingrained into your every thought.
>You feel a gentle nudge.
>Bark has poked you with his horn - not to do harm, but to get attention. He will not talk for any reason, and he looks nervous every time he tries to interact, as though he is about to be hurt by something. But he gets his points across.
>Bark silently leads you and the others to a small amount of the good grass he has found.
>"Thank yoo Bawk," Branch tells him once all four of you have gathered at the base of a tree to enjoy the good grassies.
>This is why you know you have to stay with other fluffies. They can help you find the foodies and water faster, and you can help them.
>No one offers Bark huggies of congratulations because you all know he will shy from them, but he does have the slightest sign of a smile while you all start to enjoy your meal.
>"Gwassie nummies good fo' bahbehs!" Dirt needlessly announces before she starts to chow down. She's gotten so large that she has to put her head down very far, and cannot get to much grass very fast. At the same time, she wants more to eat than ever. You do not think you will be able to roll her along in the swamp when she gets her biggest. There is too much that could go wrong.
>Branch takes the time to tear out extra grassies to carry to Dirt. He calls Dirt his "spesha fwiend" now because of the special huggies. You know you also had the special huggies, but you do not call her this. It won't help anyone eat or be safe to start treating anyone exceptionally.
>You're having what grass there is to be had when disaster strikes. As it was bound to eventually.
>Bark was finding grass a bit apart from you, as usual, because he's such a loner. He walked over what he probably thought was another tree root or vine on the ground, not expecting trouble.
>However, you see the head of a long, limbless creature rise up behind him after that.
>"Bawk, wun!" is all you have time to shout.
>The red fluffy unicorn doesn't even have time to turn around to look at you before the beast has struck.
>It is as fast as anything you have ever seen, and has its jaws around his middle in a flash. Bark's eyes go very wide, and then they go dead without even closing. It is one of the snakes with teeth that kill instantly. There's that, at least.
>"Munstah!" Dirt exclaims, eyes immediately beginning to stream hot tears. "Munstah haf fwiend! Gif fwiend owwies!"
>You look to Branch. The stolid brown unicorn fluffy does not need to be told what to do. He is already pushing against Dirt's fat flank, crying, "We go, Diwt! Go 'way fwom munstah! Seff bahbehs!"
>This is what she needed to hear. Dirt has not been in the swamp long enough to understand that when other fluffies are gone, they're gone.
>You are running, and glance back to see if the monster is going to pursue you as well.
>It's got itself coiled around Bark's body, its mouth somehow gone incredibly wide to fit around the top of his head. He is disappearing into it, its fangs framing his face. Then that face is gone, into the mouth, and you will never see it again.
>You keep running with the other two, and don't look back a second time.