The Golden Fluffies of the Sun

MrBoo, October 14, 2017; 13:42 / FB 48650
=======================================================================================================================================
THE GOLDEN FLUFFIES OF THE SUN

By MrBoo

Foreword-
I hate poetry. Really fucking hate it. However, for some reason, The Song of Wandering Aengus by W. B. Yeats made an impression on me when I read it in school. Maybe because it’s so short. Maybe because Donovan made a song out of it. Or maybe because Ray Bradbury used a line from it as a title for a short story.
I reread it recently and thought that it might provide the basis for a good fluffy story. An epic story of love, loss and one fluffy’s quest to reclaim that which was once his.

--------------------

The tan and green fluffy stallion lay hidden in the grass by the side of the road. He had been wandering the fields long enough to know better than to dash out across the long black rock. He knew that he had to wait and be patient, a trait few fluffies had.

He heard an approaching metal monster and, while he stood his ground, he closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. The monster passed by with a roar and sent spirals of dust over the fluffy. Once he was sure that it was gone, he cautiously opened his eyes and peered out at the road. Looking one way, he saw the back of the car that had just passed, shrinking into the distance. Looking the other way, he saw nothing.

The stallion mustered himself, shook off the road dust and set off across the black rock. Many bright times living in the wild had turned the fluffy, whose name was Gus, from fat and slow into a quick, lean creature and he was safely across and into the ditch that bordered the road before another metal monster could smash him.

As he rested and caught his breath, he nibbled at the weeds growing in the ditch. They weren’t as sweet and juicy as they had been only a few bright times ago, and he had to eat more to gain any energy from them. He knew that this meant that the cold times were coming soon. He had lived through many cold times and knew how to prepare for them. He hoped to find another herd to pass the cold time with, as survival was easier with company than without.

Sated with the dry weeds, he climbed out of the ditch and started off through the field. More pressing than the coming cold time was the approaching dark time. He needed to find someplace to sleep, safe from the night prowlers.

Soon, he came to a stand of trees. One of them had fallen over and he started to dig a burrow in the earth beneath its trunk. His hooves were no longer soft and leathery, now they were hard and strong and in no time, he had a space dug out in which he could fit himself. Pleased with his work, he used the last remnants of the day to graze around the trees. He found some fresh clover and dandelions, as well as a small puddle filled with the previous days rain.

Once he was finished, he went as far from the trees as he dared and made good poopies, scraping dirt over them before returning to his burrow. He gathered some leaves with which to make a nest and crawled into the cavity under the trunk.

Once situated, he thought back over the day. It had started out well. He had been part of a small herd since the bright time before. They were glad to have him and three mares had offered him special huggies, which he had refused, judging that the cold time was too close for a litter to grow and become helpful to the herd.

That morning, while the herd was looking for food, they came across two humans next to a metal monster. The tan fluffy was scared and told the leader.

“Gus nu wike dis. Hoomins scawy!”

“Nu wowwy, nyu fwiend,” replied the leader, “Smawty wiww make dem gif nummies ow get sowwy poopies!”

The leader was imbued with that peculiar fluffy trait of bravado and stupidity which passed as intelligence. As he went to confront the humans, Gus backed into the brush, hidden from view.

“Stoopi hoomins!” the leader yelled, “Gif hewd nummehs…GAK!”

Gus knew what that sound meant and he quickly but quietly put distance between himself and the doomed herd. He still heard the low chuckling laughter of the humans and the crying and pleading of the other fluffies as they met their fate. This had happened before, and he was sure that it would happen again. Herd leaders were stubborn when it came to confrontations with humans and rarely had second chances to learn.

Not wasting anymore heart hurties on the destruction of the herd, Gus had moved on through the brush and tall weeds. He was a fluffy on a mission. A mission that drove him forward relentlessly.

Now, curled up with his leaves, Gus finally cleared his head of the day’s events and fell into a sound sleep.

--------------------


Gus had been born in a fluffy mill. The only mother that he had ever known was the milk-bag that kept him and his cage mates fed. Once he was weaned, he was moved into a larger colt pen with clear plastic walls and an open top. There were a dozen weanlings in the pen, cared for by an adult fluffy, Big Ernie, whose job it was to teach the foals the basics. It was here that the colt was given his name.

Dave, the human that took care of this particular pen, came by one bright time and gave each fluffy a pointy hurtie. He said that this was to keep them from being sickie so that they could join the other foals in the big pen. He also gave them their names.

When he picked up the tan and green colt, he peered at him carefully. “You have a look of destiny about you. Your name will be Aengus, Gus for short.”

“Fank ‘ou, Dafe!” the fluffy exclaimed, “Gus wub nyu name!”

Two bright times later, Dave returned with a low wheeled cart. He and Big Ernie loaded the foals onto the cart and rolled it past the other pens. Some of the colts in the cart became frightened and some even made scaredy poopies. But Gus was excited. He stood with his forelegs on the carts sides, taking it all in. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he loved the idea of seeing someplace new.

Shortly, they arrived at a wall with a small door. Dave backed the cart around so that it’s gate was against the door.

“Ok, fluffies,” Dave said, “if you didn’t make bad poopies, you can go into the big pen and play until dinnertime. Those that made bad poopies will have to have a bath first. Be good and play nice with the other fluffies!”

When the door opened, Big Ernie was the first one into the big pen and he stood at the entry, guiding the others out. Gus stepped through the door and was overcome with new sights, sounds and smells. The big pen was a large circular area with high walls and a metal mesh covering the top. Above, the sky-ball burned with golden fire in a bright blue field. The ground was covered in a soft green mat that undulated in small hills and shallow draws. There were umbrella-like structures to provide shade and, against the walls, litterboxes and watering stations.

There were several fluffies already in the pen and more entering through other doors. These foals ran towards each other with calls of “Nyu fwiend!” and “Wan pway?” Balls and blocks were scattered about and soon most started playing.

Gus wasn’t interested in silly games. He could already stack blocks four high and pushing a ball around held no appeal for him. Instead, he started exploring the pen. He discovered that by climbing the high places, he could see farther, and that by crouching low in the swales, he could hide himself. He didn’t know why, but somehow that felt important to him.

After a time, he came upon a group of three fillies, playing with a ball. He was going to walk past them and leave them to their foolish games, when one of them caught his eye. She was a silver Pegasus with a mane of ivory shot through with pale pink. Gus thought that she was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen and stared at her, his mouth agape.

The filly looked at Gus and smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. “Hewwo, nyu fwiend. Wan pway?”

“Yus,” was all Gus could say as he sat and joined the group.

“Am Appow Bwossom,” she said with a tinkling laugh. Gus has never heard such a sound. It was like water splashing in the light of the sky-ball and it went straight to his heart. “Does fwuffeh hab namsie?”

“Yus,” he replied, still staring at her.

“Fwuffeh siwwy!” Apple Blossom said and laughed again. “Wha’s namsie?”

Gus had to think. What was his name? Did he have a name? Of course he did, it was…uhh…

“GUS!” he finally yelled, “Fwuffeh am Gus!”

Apple Blossom laughed and Gus felt his insides melt at that perfect sound. “Hewwo, Gus.”

“Hewwo, Appow Bwossom,” Gus didn’t know what an apple blossom was but somehow knew that it suited her.

She introduced the other fillies, but Gus’ attention was solely on the silver filly. After a time, the other fillies took the ball and left, leaving Gus and Apple Blossom alone. Gus tried to speak several times, but his words stuck in his mouth.

Finally, Apple Blossom broke the silence. “Do fwuffy wan’ pway huggie tag?”

“Yus,” Gus replied, “wha’s dat?”

“Siwwy Gus,” she said laughing, “’ou chase Appow Bwossom an’ when ‘ou catch fwuffeh, ‘ou gib huggies.”

Gus thought that this was the best game ever. “Otay, wet’s pway!”

Apple Blossom approached Gus, touched his foreleg with hers and said, “’Ou am it.”

She trotted away and Gus stared after her before giving chase. He easily caught up to her and tagged her carefully.
“Nao is huggies time!” she said as she sat on her haunches and extended her forelegs. Gus returned the embrace, and the fluffy that had never known a mother’s hug felt a small, warm feeling that grew into a fierce fire.

Finally, Apple Blossom broke the hug and said, “Gus betteh wun, ow Appow Bwossom wiww catch’oo!”

The colt scampered away with the filly in close pursuit, catching him within a few feet. They hugged again, Gus’s happiness growing more and more. They played this way until they were called back to the carts. The two promised to meet again the next time they were in the big pen.

--------------------


Gus awoke and could see light through the gaps around his nest. Time to find something to eat and move along. Crawling out, he noticed how cold it was. He made his poopies and found a place in the light of the sky-ball to warm up. The cold made him stiff and slow, but as he warmed up, he was soon back to his old self.

He foraged about and found some more dandelions, as well as some wildflowers to breakfast on. Once he was full, he moved on. He didn’t know where he was heading, he only knew that he had to move forward.

He traveled on for many bright times. Rich food was becoming scarce and more and more he had to settle for the tough, dry grass. He was also forced to take shelter from the sky water from time to time. Eventually, he came to an area of flat fields with plants growing in even rows. He knew that there were good nummies there, but he had to be careful as there were humans and their metal monsters there too.

On the edge of one of the fields, Gus encountered a small herd. There was the leader, another stallion, four mares (three were deep into pregnancy) and a dozen foals, including a few weanlings and some chirpie babies. They appeared to be well fed and were busily eating from a pile of the human’s crops.

Once they noticed him, the smarty and his toughie approached Gus. They were both smaller, younger and fatter than Gus. However, a smarty is a smarty and he walked up to Gus with a smartie’s attitude.

“Nyu fwuffeh,” he said, “Join smawtehs hewd. Hab pwenteh gud nummehs an’ pwetteh mawes. Hewd need nyu toughie.”

Gus looked them over and shook his head, “Nu, too many babbehs in hewd. Cowd time come soon. Nu nummehs fo’ aww dem.”

“Stoopi dummeh!” the leader yelled, “Gots wotsa nummehs! ‘Nuff fo’ babbehs an’ tummeh babbehs!”

“Das hoomin nummehs, soon dey come, take aww ‘way.” Gus said, “Den aww hewd stawve.”

The smarty grew frustrated. “Das nu twue, dummeh! Toughie, gib fwuffeh sowwy hoovsies!”

The toughie advanced on Gus, his cheeks puffed out and ears lying flat. The tan stallion had dealt with toughies before and knew that they were used to weak opponents that rarely fought back. As soon as he was close enough, Gus flashed out with his right foreleg and struck the stallion above the eye. Immediately, he brought his left foreleg down on the top of the toughies head. Not a killing blow, but one that would discourage him.

The toughie went down crying and making scaredy poopies. The leader retreated behind the mares, all of whom were making scaredy poopies and crying.

“Nu hewt soon-mummeh! Meanie fwuffeh! Hewties nu gud fo’ tummeh babbehs! Huuu!!! Huuu!!! Huuu!!!”

Gus went to their pile of food and ate his fill. Then he went to the leader, who cowered in fear.

“When hoomins come and take nummehs and den cowd time come, ‘member, Gus towdch’oo. When ‘ou hab to num yo’ babbehs, ‘member Gus towdch’oo.” With that, he walked away and didn’t look back.

--------------------


True to their words, when the foals were brought back to the big pen, Gus and Apple Blossom spent all of their time together. They played huggie tag, mostly, although they would sometimes play with blocks or kick a ball back and forth. The other fluffies, recognizing the pairs special bond, left them alone. There were plenty of other foals to play with.

One bright time, Gus and Apple Blossom were playing with some blocks, stacking them up then knocking them over. Whenever she knocked them over, the silver filly would laugh with a sound like water splashing in the light of the sky-ball. Gus loved that sound as it gave him heart happies.

Suddenly, a colt that was unfamiliar to both of them ran over. He was a young unicorn, with a sea gray fluff and a red mane and tail.

“Biwwy wan pway bwockies tu!” he said as he trotted up, “Can Biwwy pway?”

Gus felt himself become defensive and tried to shoo the foal away. “Fwuffeh nu can pway wif Gus an’ Appow Bwossom. Gu way!”

“Biwwy wike pwetty mawe!” he ignored the tan colt and sidled up to the filly, “Wan gif pwetty mawe huggies!”

Apple Blossom giggled uncertainly and looked at the unicorn. “Wiww Biwwy gu way if Appow Bwossom gif one huggie?”

Billy agreed and the silver pegasus gave him a quick hug. But this didn’t satisfy him and he stayed and tried to give her another hug. Apple Blossom shoved him away as he moved in and tried to lick her face.

“Mawe so pwetty! Wan gif speciaw huggies to Appow Bwossom!” Billy said, pushing against her.

A haze of red fell over Gus’ eyes and he leapt towards the gray colt. “’Ou am bad fwuffeh! Gu ‘way nao!”

Without thinking, Gus brought both of his forelegs down on Billy’s head. The young unicorn went down and was still, a thin stream of boo-boo juice coming from his ears. Suddenly, all of the fluffy doors in the wall opened, as well as a human sized door. Dave and two other humans entered the big pen and ran towards Gus.

One of the humans carried a red box, which Gus recognized as a sorry box. He had only been in a sorry box once before, when Dave and Big Ernie taught them about discipline. Each foal had been placed in the box for a few seconds so they knew what would be waiting for them, should they misbehave.

When the humans arrived, Dave lifted Gus up by the scruff, “You did it now, buddy.”

The other humans looked after the gray colt. “This one’s done, Dave.”

Dave moved to put Gus into the sorry box, but Apple Blossom cried out, “NU! Gus twy hewp Appow Bwossom fwom meanie fwuffeh! Gway fwuffeh twy to hewt Appow Bwossom!”

“Sorry, girl,” Dave said, “Rules are rules.”

As Gus was lowered into the sorry box, he looked at Apple Blossom one last time. “Nu wowwy, Appow Bwossom! Gus wiww fin’ ‘ou!”

With that, the box was closed up and covered with a cloth, plunging Gus into darkness. Although he was frightened, he didn’t cry out or make scaredy poopies or peepees. His only thought was to get out of the sorry box and find the silver filly with the laugh like water splashing in the light of the sky-ball.

--------------------


Many bright times had passed since Gus had encountered the herd in the human’s field. It was colder now, and the sky-ball was growing weaker. It couldn’t provide as much warmth and it couldn’t stay up in the sky as long. Food was harder to come by and he had to spend more time gathering than before.

He found himself in an area of rolling hills and small pockets of trees. At night, he usually had to nest under a bush or just cover himself in dry leaves. Luckily, he had learned many cold times ago that the bushy-tailed monsters would hide stores of nuts inside of old trees, which he would help himself to, whenever he found them.

One bright time, when the sky-ball had just started its climb into the sky, Gus was walking at the edge of a stand of trees, looking for monster nests. Suddenly, he heard a strange chittering sound and a long monster jumped on him from behind. The monster was smaller than Gus, but quick and fierce, with small, sharp teeth and claws.

Gus had learned long ago that the best way to defend himself was with a fierce attack of his own. The two creatures rolled and writhed on the ground, each seeking an advantage over the other. Gus thought that he might be able to get the upper hand, but then the long monster was able to get its jaws on the tan stallion’s throat.

Gus’s neck fluff was thick enough to keep the monster’s teeth from ripping his neck open, but he was growing faint from lack of air. As he weakened, he felt his age betraying him. Would he be able to survive this fight? Would he never see Apple Blossom again?

The thought of the silver filly with the laugh like water splashing in the light of the sky-ball filled him with a new resolve. With his last strength, he clapped his forehooves together on the monster’s head. It’s hold on his throat weakened, and Gus was able to throw it off. They stood a few feet apart, Gus breathing deeply and the long monster shaking its head.

Unfortunately, the monster recovered first, and it circled Gus, with death in its eyes. The tan stallion knew that he was too tired to withstand another attack. He was bleeding from multiple wounds and the boo-boo juice dripped steadily from his neck. He was going to die, but he wasn’t going to go easily. He rose up on his hind legs and called out to the monster, “Come fo’ Gus, munstah! Come get fwuffeh! ‘Ou am stoopi munstah!”

The stallion shook his no-no stick at the monster, and although his vision was failing and he was increasingly dizzy, he began to laugh. “Come on, munstah! Gus nu ‘fwaid!”

The monster crouched down, ready to spring, when there came a loud bang and the monster’s front half disappeared in a cloud of blood and dust. Gus, unsure of what had just happened, fell to the ground. A human appeared before him, holding a long, smoking stick in his hands.

“Holy shit!” the human said, “I ain’t never seen a fluffy fight a weasel like that. Singin’ a death song an’ all. Did you shake yer dick at him?”

“Yus, am not ‘fwaid,” Gus whispered, then all went black.

--------------------


Gus didn’t know how many forevers he spent in the dark sorry box. Occasionally, his water bottle and kibble tray were refilled and the small litterbox changed. Often, the box swayed as it was moved about. Eventually, all movement stopped and the cover was removed from the box. The bright light hurt his see-places and it took a while for them to adjust. Once they did, he could see two humans through the sorry boxes vent holes.

“So, what did this one do?” asked the first human, who was short, with a yellow fluff.

“He’s a straight up thug, son,” answered the second human. He was taller, with black fluff. “Done popped a cap in Sancho’s ass.”

“Segregation for him, then. He won’t be free range, but someone will enjoy his nuggets,” said the first.

“Yeah, it’s the fluff-loaf for him, once we fatten him up. Or maybe some fluffy asada for the homies,” the second replied as they walked away.

“Art, you have a Master’s Degree in biology, why do you talk like that? Plus, you’re Jewish.” was the last thing Gus heard.

An older human pulled Gus from the sorry box and set him in a pen that was only a little larger than the sorry box. This human had a white fluff, and waves of fumes came from him that made Gus’s eyes water.

The human left and Gus looked around his new home. It had all the fluffy amenities: a food tray, a water bottle and a litter box, as well as a blanket and small flat pillow that smelled of fluffy urine. There were no toys and the walls were too high for him to look out. Gus laid down with a sigh and for the first time wondered if he would ever see Apple Blossom again.

After a few forevers, the old human came back and filled Gus’s food tray with a mix of oats, nuts and leafy greens, all shredded together. He took a bite and found them delicious.

“There ya go, ya lil’ shitrat. Eat up,” said the human, who then walked away.

This routine went on for several bright times, until after one dinnertime, Gus noticed that the old human had not latched the gate to the pen completely after changing the litterbox. With a hard push from his nose, the gate swung open. Carefully, Gus pulled it back until it was almost closed and waited for the dark time.

The stallion knew that if were to ever find the silver filly, he would have to leave this place, and that this might be his only chance. Finally, the dark time came and Gus slipped out of his pen and looked around. He came to a door that was also slightly ajar, and at a desk next to it was the old human. His head was down and he was making loud buzzing noises.

At first, Gus was scared. But then he thought about Apple Blossom and regained his courage. He used his foreleg to slowly open the door just enough for him to sneak through. On the other side of the door it was brighter than inside and he could see a large flat area that smelled strongly of other fluffies.

The fear returned and he made a little scaredy poopies. Overhead, instead of a golden sky-ball burning in a bright sky, there was a cold silver sky-ball in a dark sky. Gus had never seen this before and he suddenly realized that this must be a sign from Apple Blossom as the sky-ball was the same color as her fluff. All he had to do was follow it and he would find her.

He walked across the open area, towards the silver sky-ball, but before he could go very far, he encountered a line of metal strings. These strings were hard and placed close enough together that he couldn’t easily go through. However, he wasn’t fully grown yet and was still fairly thin. It was a struggle, but he was able to force his way through an opening, one leg at a time.

Once through, he continued on his path. Soon, however, he came across another fence. The openings in this one were so small that even a chirpie baby wouldn’t pass through. He followed along the fence, looking for an opening. Finally, he came to a gate and the gap between it and the fence was wide enough that he was able to make it through, although he lost some fluff in the process.

“Nu wowwy, Appow Bwossom,” he said aloud as he set off, “Gus come fo’ ‘ou!”

--------------------


Hazel sat at her desk, going over the latest Project Yardarm reports. Of all the projects currently being run at the lab, this was the one that gave her nightmares. When her cell phone rang, she started and thought about ignoring it, figuring that it was her boss. She wasn’t ready to talk with him yet.

When she glanced at her phone’s screen, she saw that it wasn’t her boss, but her bosses’ boss, Dr. Winterbotham. She would have to take the call. With a deep breath, she hit the “accept” button.

“This is Dr. Hazel Fuentes,” she gave her standard answer.

“Hazel, this is Julius Winterbotham. How are you today?” his voice was calm and friendly. Maybe he didn’t know yet.

“Dr. Winterbotham, what a pleasure. I’m fine, how are you?” she hoped that her reply didn’t betray her rising panic.

“I’m fine, Hazel, thank you for asking. Do you have a second for a question?” he still sounded calm, which was good.

“Of course, sir. How can I help you?”

“Well, I would like to know what kind of fucking monkey operation you’re running there,” the calm and friendly tone had been replaced with one of definite anger.

“Sir,” she replied, “I’m not sure…”

“Cut the shit. How do you and your crew of brain donors lose a bio-toy? Please tell me that it pulled a gun on you and escaped to Mexico,” he said, “At least that would make sense.”

Hazel sighed and reached for her bottle of antacids. “I’m afraid that it’s somewhat more prosaic than that.”

“All I know is that you lost a project subject. I don’t know how or which project it came from, so why don’t we start at the beginning?” he sounded a little more reasonable. Maybe Hazel would still have a job when the call ended.

“Well, sir, first off, the subject in question was from Project Snowdrift,” she explained.

“Snowdrift is the one where they were rewired with mild OCD?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. It’s an attempt to see if we could increase a bio-toy’s memory by causing it to fixate on something, making it capable of long-term tasks,” she gulped some antacids and swallowed without chewing. Her lunchtime salad was threatening a coup.

“Part of the project included main-lining individuals with other, regular bio-toys and studying their interaction,” she continued.

“Yes,” Dr. Winterbotham replied, “I signed off on that.”

“The subject in question, SD-11327c, an earth-type male, was installed in a standard fluffy mill, with the instruction that he not be adopted out and that he would be retrieved once he reached a certain age,” the longer she spoke, the more she regained her confidence.

“So far, so good,” was the doctor’s reply.

“During open socializing periods, our subject formed a bond with a regular fluffy filly. As might be expected, the bond became very close,” she said.

“I follow you, but how did you lose him?” he wanted to know.

“When another regular colt tried to interact with the filly, SD-11327c killed the colt,” the revolt in Hazel’s stomach was put down, at least for now.

“So he became overly fixated?” the Dr. asked.

“Apparently so,” she said, “the OCD was not so mild in his case.”

“Then what happened?”

“The mill where this occurred has a strict policy that any bio-toy that shows anti-social behavior is sent to a stockyard and raised for food. This was done immediately,” she explained.

“Ok, and where was our observer to stop this?” Hazel could hear the anger creeping back into his voice.

“She wasn’t on duty, Dr. Winterbotham.”

“Not on duty? Well, where the fuck was she? At the fluffy whorehouse?” And there’s the anger, Hazel thought.

“Sir, we could only afford one full-time observer. She had to have a day off. And none of the mill employees, other than management, knew of the project,” Hazel closed her eyes, waiting for the stream of abuse.

Instead, he sighed loudly. “Yeah, makes sense. God damned bean counters. How are you supposed to observe without observers? Anyway, go on.”

“Once we discovered what had happened, we sent a team to pick him up. He was in a stockyard across the state. When they arrived, they discovered that SD-11327c had disappeared the night before,” she said.

“Jesus, a monkey crew worse than yours. How did that happen?”

“He was in a segregation pen and the overnight security guard got drunk and passed out before he secured the building. Our subject was small enough to squeeze through the wire fence and escape,” surely he couldn’t blame the failings of the stockyards staff on her, Hazel thought.

“Why couldn’t we find him using his tracker?” Winterbotham asked.

“Not sure, either it malfunctioned or he was out of range before we started searching. We still have drones flying search patterns,” Hazel explained.

Dr. Winterbotham was silent for a time. Hazel kept quiet, not wanting to stir his ire any more than it already was.

“Well,” he said finally, “it’s probably a roadside pancake or in a pile of coyote shit by now.”

“Yes, sir,” was all Hazel could muster.

“Dr. Fuentes, someone’s head is going to roll over this. I want a sacrificial lamb we can pin this on. If you don’t provide me with that name by the end of the day, that head will be yours. Do you understand me?” he asked.

“I do, sir. I’ll have a name for you within the hour,” she replied, but the phone was already dead.

She sat the phone on her desk and wiped her sweaty ear. She thought about a few more antacids, but instead, she rose and went to her credenza and poured a tumbler full of scotch. She downed half of it in one gulp. Now, she just had to decide whose life to ruin.

“Sorry, Dr. Clark, you shouldn’t have been late twice last week,” she said aloud and finished off her drink.

--------------------


When Gus awoke, he was in a soft, warm bed. He needed to make poopies, but when he tried to move, his whole body hurt. Looking at himself, he saw that patches of his fluff were missing and white sticky patches covered what must have been boo-boos. He remembered his fight with the long monster and the human that had given it forever sleepies.

He slowly rose, feeling for where the pain was the worst. Gingerly, he stepped off of the bed and looked around for the litterbox. He couldn’t see or smell it and began to panic. Then the old human appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, little feller, you’re up,” he said.

"Gus need da wittewbox. Don’ wan’ make bad poopies.”

“Hang on for a second,” said the old human. He quickly returned with a cut-down cardboard box with shredded newspaper in it. “Polly will be happy she ain’t gotta clean up your shit.”

Gus climbed into the litterbox and made good poopies with a sigh. As he climbed out, he saw a water bowl and took a long drink. He was also very hungry, but didn’t see any food.

“How you feelin’, buddy?” the human wanted to know.

“Gus hab owwies aww oba,” he replied.

“No surprise there, you put up a helluva fight. Ol’ mister weasel almost got you,” the old human sat on a giant blockie and looked at Gus’s wounds, “but seems like yore healing okay.”

“Fank ‘ou fo’ sabe Gus, nice mistah,” the fluffy said.

“Don't you worry none, Gus. And the name's Silas,” he said, “You hungry?”

“Yus, hab tummeh owwies.”

“Let me see if that ol’ lady of mine can rustle up some grub for ya,” Silas said, and left the small room where Gus lay.

The old human mare came in shortly with a bowl of something that smelled delicious. She sat it down in front of the tan stallion.

“Here you go, sweetheart, some of yesterday’s stew. Hope it’s not too hot,” she said.

“Fank ‘ou,” Gus said and started eating. It was hot but it was the best thing he had ever tasted and he made short work of it. Afterwards, he crawled into bed and was soon fast asleep.

In the bright times that followed, the little fluffy healed and grew stronger. The old farmer and his wife kept his wounds clean and fed him well. Soon, he moved out of the service porch and into the house proper. Gus was happy because it was warm, but he also enjoyed the company of Silas and Polly. He had not known many humans in his life and most of them were cruel and uncaring.

For their part, the old farmer and his wife, who lived alone with few neighbors, found the stallion to be a good companion. They learned all about Gus’s life and his search for the silver filly with the laugh like water splashing in the light of the sky-ball. They all decided that the fluffy would stay until the cold time was over and would then resume his search.

One bright time during the cold time, Silas came to Gus as he was napping in front of the fireplace. The old human sat in a rocking chair and addressed the stallion.

“Gus, there’s something we need to talk over,” he said.

“Yus, Siwas?”

“Well, there’s a big holiday coming up, a people holiday, and Me and Polly are gonna have a passel o' grandkids staying here for a few days,” explained Silas.

“Otay,” said Gus.

“And ‘cause these here young’uns can be a real handful, we thought it best if we moved you out to the barn for a few nights,” Silas rubbed his whiskery chin, “that way, you ain’t gonna git hurt none.”

“Das fin’ fo’ Gus. Wiww hab wawm beddie an’ nummehs?” the tan stallion wanted to know.

“You shore will, lil’ buddy. We’ll fix you up a nice warm place to stay,”

A few bright times later, Silas took Gus out to the barn to show him his new place. A storm had moved in the previous bright time and the old farmer carried the fluffy wrapped in an old wool blanket, through almost six inches of snow.

Silas wasn’t much of a farmer anymore. He raised a few hogs, which had already gone to slaughter, and had a chicken coop to provide them with fresh eggs. Most of the barn’s interior was full of wood working tools and various uncompleted projects. He led the fluffy to a corner.

“Here you go, Gus, yore new bed!” the old human seemed proud. In the corner was an open-ended wood box piled high with blankets and pillows. “And this here’s the capper, an electric heating pad that’ll keep you snug an’ cozy no matter how cold it is outside.”

Gus explored the area and was pleased. There was a litterbox, a water bowl and a night light, as well as a few of Gus’s favorite picture books.

“Fank ‘ou, Siwas. Dis am nice,” he said.

Silas sat on a crate and pulled a pipe from his coverall pocket. “It’s just fer a few days,” he said as he lit the pipe, “I’ll be out reg'lar to bring you food and check up on ya.”

The old human set the heating pad to medium, it was supposed to be below freezing the next few nights. Gus snuggled into its warmth and pulled a blanket over himself. Silas rose and turned the night light on before knocking out his pipe and going into the house.

After a few bright times, the holiday was over and the old farmer’s family would be leaving the next bright time. Silas went to the barn that evening with Gus’s dinner. Snow was falling thickly and building up on the ground. He set the food down in front of the fluffy, who was paging through a book.

“Tomorry’s the big day, Gus,” he said, “We’ll get you back in the house, soon’s everyones gone.”

“Dat make Gus happy. Wan’ stay wif ‘ou an’ mummeh Powwy ‘gain,” the stallion said between bites.

Before he left, Silas turned the heating pad up a bit. The barn was bitterly cold and draughty and it was only dusk. After he finished eating, Gus made good poopies then curled up in his bed, under his blanket, and went to sleep.

--------------------


Gus awoke suddenly and he could tell that something had changed. The barn door was partly open and a bright light was shining through. He rose and noticed that he no longer felt the hurt of his old wounds and he didn’t feel cold at all. Going to the door, he went through and found himself in a green meadow, ringed in a silvery mist.

Under his feet were clover and dandelions and other wild flowers. The air smelled green and fresh. Above him, in a sky of the brightest blue, was the sky-ball, burning golden. Next to it was the bright silver sky-ball. He took a mouthful of the clover and found it sweet and juicy. The dandelions were young and tender.

Movement caught his eye, and looking up he saw her. The silver filly with the laugh like water splashing in the light of the sky-ball. Apple Blossom. He had finally found her.

“Siwwy Gus, am huggie tag time. ‘Ou am it!” she said and scampered off until she disappeared into the silvery mist. Gus ran after her until he, too, was swallowed by the mist.

--------------------


The old farmer trudged back to the house from the barn through almost two feet of snow. He walked slowly with his head down. Entering the service porch, he took off his jacket and hung it up, along with his hat. Kicking off his boots, he slid his feet into his flannel-lined slippers. He stood there for a minute, appreciating the quiet. The family had left early that morning and with them went the noise and the ruckus.

He went into the kitchen and sat at the table. Polly sat his breakfast before him, hash with a fried egg on top and biscuits.

“I thought that you were bringing Gus back over,” she said as she poured his coffee.

Silas had to clear his throat before he could speak. “That damned heating pad musta shorted out last night. Gus froze to death in his bed.”

Polly sat down heavily in her chair, still holding the percolator. “Oh, no! Poor little Gus.”

“I figger we’ll put him near to that apple tree by the coop, soon’s the snow stops,” the old farmer said, “He mayn’t never found his Apple Blossom in this world, but mebbe in the next ‘un.”

Polly reached over and gripped her husband’s wrinkled hand. “That’ll give him some peace, I’m sure.”