The Lake: Part IV

>Morning of day four.
>Given what happened, you assume more fluffies died overnight.
>You're surprised to see all eight have survived.
>At least, thus far.  The red pegasus is in the bathroom grove.
>”Poopies hurt!” she squeals.
>She manages to shit, finally, and walks back to the other grove in extreme agony.
>You then notice that none of them are grazing on the strip anymore.
>You're not sure why.  Are they smarter than you thought?
>Sort of, but not really.  The white pegasus limps out to graze on the remaining grass, but the sole unicorn survivor, a silver fluffy with red hair, stops her.
>”No!  Wawa gwassies take fwuffy's fwiends away!  Wawa gwassies bad!” she says.
>She thinks the grass kidnapped the unicorns you buried.
>The herd now grazes from the undergrowth around the pine trees.
>It's the same kind of grass, but since the tree roots have broken the rock here, it's grown much taller.
>They no longer talk about the flavor.
>Instead, they ask it to be friendly.
>”Pwease no hurt fwuffy, pwease be nice gwassies,” the purple earth fluffy says.
>Since no sand comes up with this grass, their wish will be granted.
>Still hurts to shit for now, though.  Fluffies wander over to the other grove to expel sandy feces, wailing in pain.
>They don't seem to be bleeding, though.
>The grazing takes a lot less time.  They eat a little, apologize to the grass, then wander off to play.
>The strip is now their play area.
>If this herd is any indication, fluffy ponies' favorite games are 'hide in plain sight' and 'run aimlessly until you slam into each other'.
>Any fluffy hurt in the latter is immediately hugged.
>”I sowwy, no mean make boo-boo!” the offender usually says.
>The white pegasus can't play that game.  Her limp is still noticeable.
>”Why you no pway wif us?” she is asked.
>”Weggie no work, weggie hate fwuffy,” she laments.
>Attempts to scold the leg by poking draw screams of pain and 'sowwies'.
>Fluffies playing hide and seek are consumed with bouts of frustration.
>”How you fin' fwuffy so fast?” they ask.
>Probably because they're 16 inches of fluffball trying to hide in two inches of grass.
>The white pegasus doesn't play this game either.
>It hurts her to crouch and 'hide'.
>You feel increasingly guilty as you watch her mope.
>When you see the ponies filing to the grove to rest after playing, you decide to make amends.
>The white pegasus is in the other grove alone.  It was the closest, and walking hurts her too much.
>She complains to herself about the smell, but is unwilling to move.
>Once she falls asleep, you move in.
>Her fluff is still stained; you decide to grab her by the tail, again using your other hand to silence her.
>She wakes up much faster this time, wiggling and making terrified noises.
>You don't allow her to see you until you get inside and into the bathroom.
>You set her down in the tub.
>”Where fwuffy?” she asks, walking around.  When she sees you, she becomes happy.
>She rears up on the side of the tub, trying to hug you.  “Hooman!  Fwuffy wuv you!”
>She can't hold this position for long; her injured back leg won't bear the weight.
>She doesn't even remember your anger.
>You turn on the water and begin to clean her.
>”Wawa wawm!  Fwuffy wike wawa!” she chirps.
>You do your best to clean her.  After some work, she's white again.
>After drying her off, you take her and get in your car.
>”Where we go?” she asks.
“To the vet. We're going to make your leg work again.”
>Her eyes get wide.  She scrambles across the center console as best she can, almost getting stuck on the gear lever.
>She clamps on to your stomach.
>”Fwuffy wuv you!  You gon' make fwuffy weggie happy!”
>Indeed you are.

>You get to the vet's office.
>As soon as the receptionist sees the babbling white pegasus, she sighs.
>”We get at least a dozen of these fuzzballs a day,” she explains.
“I've heard they're accident prone.”
>”That may be true, but 90 percent of them get injured by their owners.”
>You feel even guiltier after hearing that.
”That sucks.”
>She nods at that sentiment.  ”Sure does.  What's her name?”
>You want to tell her she's just a stray, that she has no name.
>But she hugs your shin and flaps her stubby wings happily, saying how much she loves you for helping her.
“Snowflake is her name.”
>”How cute!  Have a seat over there, the doctor should be out soon.”
>”I Snowfwake!” she chants, clapping her front hooves together as she sits on the bench beside you.
>The vet appears a few minutes later.
>He can't help but smile at the bouncing fluffy.
>”It's nice to see one of these so happy,” he says.  “What's the trouble?”
>”Weggie be meanie!” Snowflake says, pointing down.
>”Well, that's no good.  Let's see what we can do.”
>You take Snowflake back into the examination area.
>The vet gently handles the damaged limb.  Snowflake cries, but smiles whenever you pet her on the head.
>”What on earth happened to her?” he asks.
“Flew into a tree.”
>That's as much as you can say without feeling like a total ass again.  Snowflake chants the word 'fwy', buzzing her tiny wings.
>”These pegasus fluffies love to jump off high things.  Gotta watch them.”
>He takes her out of the room for an x-ray.
>When he comes back, his face is grim.
>”Her leg is dislocated, and the joint's cracked.  I won't be able to pop it back in,” he says.
>”How time 'til weggie happy?” she asks the both of you.
>Her innocent question makes the vet sigh. “Snowflake, would you be a good girl and sit here for a moment?”
>”Okay, I be bestest Snowfwake eva!”
>You follow the vet out of her sight.
>”That leg isn't going to heal properly.  It's going to cause her pain for the rest of her life,” he explains.  “In fact, it'll progressively get worse.  She might not be able to walk in a few days.”
>You feel like the jerkface hate child of Hitler and Stalin when you hear those words.
“What are you saying?”
>”She's going to suffer.  I suggest you let us put her down.”
>You look down at the floor.  The image of her moping sadly, being unable to play, flashes through your mind.
“I don't want her to suffer.  I...do it.”
>The vet nods respectfully.  “I'll let you say your goodbyes.”
>You walk back in.
>”Hi!  I be good Snowfwake!” she says.
”You sure were.  The nice vet is going to make you feel better now, okay?”
>”Okay!  Snowfwake want be betta!  Snowfwake wuv you!”
>She hugs you again as you carry her to the vet.  You can only nod to him.
>They disappear into a nearby room.  Ten minutes later, he comes back.
>The eight fluffy ponies are now seven.
>You drive home and try not to cry.