Not Meant for This World

Pighamster, December 22, 2015; 15:03 / FB 35090
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In the early dark time, the foals chirped softly between suckles in the fluffy bosom of their Mumma's teet. So happy, the new family, a proud Daddeh, a doting Mummah, and four happy little babbehs having only been born a few bright times ago. The cold times had settled in, but Mummah, and Daddeh were good fluffies, who worked very hard in the warm times to make sure there were plenty of nummies in the safe place. The safe space itself was tucked away in some quiet nowhere, far away from most munstahs fluffies encounter. This little family had little to want for, and less reason to fear the world around it.

A cold wind blows outside the safe place, and the foals stir from the growing discomfort. Even with the warm milk in their belly, and the comfort provided by the fluff of their parents did little to stave off the growing cold. Alarmed by the peeping foals in their discontent, their father stirs gently, to not disrupt his mate.

“Why babbehs haf saddies? Nu chirpies,” the proud father proclaimed, “daddeh hewe.”

He gently picks up a fuzzy green foal with his hoofs, its fluff still woefully short for this cold weather, and gently embraces it.

“Haf huggies babbeh. Daddeh wuv you.” it whispers softly.

A concern grows in his tiny heart, as the tiny green foal shivers in his embrace. The babbehs were too young for this kind of cold, and as a good Daddeh, he knew that cold was bad for babbehs. But huggies were the best at giving warmies, so the good Daddeh kept hugging the foal. The warmth slowly returning to the foal, its peeping grew less panicked and more content.

But the rest of the babbehs were growing more dissonant, which didn't do well to comfort the spirit of the Daddeh. He snuggled closer to his mate to help warm the other foals. Snuggles were like huggies, and definitely did a good job making warmies. The gentle movement, awakens the doting Mummah. With a yawn she turns to embrace her mate, unaffected by the growing cold.

“Wuv speshul fwend...” she whispers and softly nodded back to sleep, her mate soon joining her soft snoring.

But the embrace was not enough to stave off the growing cold. The foals peeping grew louder, into exasperated chirps, crying out for a warmth that would not come. They shivered as they clutched each other. A fuzzy peach colored foal chirps as it blindly searches for a teat to suckle. It moves clumsily through the fluffy embrace of its siblings, sniffing the cold air for the sweet scent of milkies.

The cold stings the sniffer of the foal. It waggles its leggies at its fuzzy peach face, trying to push the mean sensation away. But it fumbles in its struggle and falls out of the fluff of its mother. It gently hits the cold ground of the safe place with a squeak, and curls into a fetal position attempting to clutch its fuzzy little nub of a tail. Cold and Alone, the peach babbeh chirps as loud as its tiny voice can manage.

Peep! Speep! SPEEEEP! The tiny foal cries out, but to no avail. With each cry a tiny puffy cloud floats from its muzzle and hangs heaviy in the air. With each passing moment, the cold sapping life away from the foal to the music of its snoring family, the foal grows quieter, and quieter, until finally it falls silent.

Still clutched in the embrace of its daddeh, the green foal shifted restlessly, a pang of hunger welled up from inside the tummy of the poor babbeh. As it begins its search for a nipple to suckle, its father yawns and whimpers softly, then squeezes its leggies lightly into his chest gripping the foal tighter and tighter. As the grip on the foal tightens, panic settles in. The green foal struggles to find air. It's tiny mouth hanging open as it searches for the breath to cry out in anguish, until finally the stillness of asphyxiation settles in.

As the night continued, the chill would prove to be the death of the little family. The tiny foals froze over, clutching each other in the fluff of their mother, their lives cut short by a force they could never understand.

“Huuuuu.... b..b..b..b.b.bab...ehs nee warmies... Fwuffy nee warmies... Why cowdies suu meanie...” the Stallion wept and cursed at the cold.

The Mare spoke not a word, instead clutched the frozen, and asphyxiated corpses of her brood, a single tear falling down her fluffy cheek.