In the Blood - 2

FractalFluff, January 6, 2014; 22:41 / FB 16232
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In the Blood (2/2)

"DUMMEH MAWE!"

The unicorn, who all this time has been engaged in trying to make the wall-monster stop eating his head, has got free. A chunk of plastic is still stuck on his horn, but he doesn't seem very perturbed by it. In fact, he's pawing the ground as if getting ready to charge. Then his eyes fall on the mare behind you and he forgets all about the baby.

"Speshaw fwend?" he says. You scoot out of the way as he goes to investigate the other mare. She's stopped whining, at least, but he seems unsatisfied. "Speshaw fwend got boo-boos... Speshaw fwend? Pweese wate up... babbeh need yu... Speshaw fwend?" He pushes her with his hoof and she slumps sideways, staring glassily up at him. "Speshaw fweeeend!" he howls. He turns on you. "Yu gif speshaw fwend fowevew sweepies! Yoonee gif BIGGES OWWIES!"

Clearly this is a suboptimal outcome. While you can hold your own against the unicorn in a fair fight, you don't want to drop the baby. You toss your head back, throwing him a little way into the air, and catch the squealing, writhing infant again in your open mouth. Now you're ready for the fray!

"Yeeeeeee!"

"YAAAAH!"

You charge each other. He catches you in the shoulder with his horn and sends you flying. You roll, get to your feet, and charge once more. At the last second, you dodge, allowing the stallion to run past you and drive his horn into the drywall.

You stumble over to the opposite corner, suddenly very weak. Your leggie has very big owwies. You retrieve the damp, peep-peep-peeping baby from your mouth. Such perfect colouration... so well-formed... so very clearly yours.

"Dat MAH babbeh! Yu GIF!"

There is only one way to prevent this brute from stealing your offspring. It will mean going through the tedious "fluffy mummah" stage again, you suppose, but this baby is well worth it. You pop the baby back into your mouth, and swallow.

"Nuuuu!" screams the stallion. "Baaaabbeeehhh!"

You cough. The baby won't go down. Oh, well, you're sure that belly-huggies will be more than sufficient to remedy any minor injuries by the time it re-emerges from your plot. You bite the baby in half and swallow again.

"...yeah, they have that classic Big Mac body-type and really nice mono-colour fluff, really warm tones. Come on in, they're through here. Hey, fluffies, Daddy's home — oh dear GOD!"

***

"And you're sure you want her euthanized? It's a nasty wound, but she'd have a fighting chance if we operated straight away."

"Are you kidding? In the ten minutes it took me to pick up a prospective buyer and bring her over, this... this... creature stomped three of her own foals to death because she didn't like the colour, gored another mare so bad she bled out, stole her baby and ate it in front of its father! I don't care if you barbecue the bitch!"

"Ah, well. Since you put it like that..."

***

You lie on a cold table. Quite unacceptable; these mouth-breathers clearly have no idea how to treat someone of your calibre. A human approaches, holding a syringe. You attempt to communicate your ideological position on allopathic medicine, particularly those forms that involve the introduction of a foreign substance into the body via the blood supply, and most especially in those situations where an unborn child might be put at risk.

"Fwuffy mummah nu wike pointy-owwies."

"Sorry, fluffy. Guess this just isn't your day," he tells you as the shot goes in.

Pleb.