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- >you are a fluffy momma named Flower, with only one little foal, named Bubble
- >and because you only have one, that means it can have every last bit of your love!
- >plus, your special friend, Blue, can give your baby lots of love, too!
- >but, there’s been a problem lately
- >your baby has lots of sickies
- >they started off as small sickies
- >he said he was cold, and he made rough noises from his mouth that hurt his mouth and his tummy
- >you gave him lots of huggies, and so did Blue, but they didn’t help
- >soon, your baby took sleepies
- >not the longest sleepies, though, thank goodness
- >when he woke up after an entire bright time, all he could do was babble and make bad poopies
- >and, again, huggies and singing didn’t help your baby
- >so what can you do?
- >when dark time finally comes, you don’t go sleepies
- >you stay up all the dark time trying to think of something, anything
- >it takes a very long time
- >but, as soon as you see the sky ball, you figure out what to do
- >oh man, you are the bestest momma for thinking this up
- >you nudge Blue
- >”Hmm…? Wha’ Fwowah wan’…?”
- >”Bwue! Bwue! Fwowah know how ta make Bubbwe sickies go ‘way!”
- >Blue leaps to his feet, ecstatic
- >”Weawwy?! How?”
- >”We fine hoomins!”
- >Blue’s expression of joy slowly fades into one of resent
- >”Hoomins dummehs.”
- >”Buh hoomins da onwy ones dat hewp babbeh!”
- >”Nu. Hoomins dummehs. Dey onwy hewt babbeh.”
- >”Bwue and Fwowah hab nu uddah op…optshu…opt…tingies ta do!”
- >you close your eyes in frustration
- >”Bubbew nee’ hoomin!”
- >suddenly, your sniffer hurts really bad!
- >”Ouchies!”
- >you open your eyes, and see Blue standing there, his hoof still raised
- >”Yuu wan’ fine hoomin?! Den go fine hoomin! Take dummeh Bubbew, tuu!”
- >he flings Bubble at you, who lets out a chirp as he sails through the air!
- >luckily, Bubble lands right in your soft fluff
- >you glare at Blue, and walk out of your hidey-home
- >”Bwue da WEAW dummeh!”
- >you begin to walk away as far as you possibly can
- >”Is otay, Bubbew. Mummeh an’ hoomins hewp ‘oo.”
- >Bubble chirps, and nestles into your fluff
- >”Otay. Wess go, Bubbew.”
- >you continue to walk, without direction
- >you have to
- >for Bubble
- --------------------------------------------------
- >it’s been three whole bright times since you left the hidey-home
- >all there is to eat are some brown grassies and some icky tasting leaves
- >but if you don’t eat, Bubble can’t have any milkies!
- >so you eat as much of the icky stuff as you can without having tummy ouchies
- >but your milkie places still don’t make much milk
- >you only hope that it’s enough for Bubble
- >speaking of, it’s time for Bubble to have some nummies as well
- >you lie on your side and put Bubble on one of your milkie places, and he tries to drink
- >but no milkies come out!
- >you try your hardest to make some milkies, ANY milkies come out, but nothing happens!
- >you don’t understand
- >you ate all those icky nummies, and your belly is full, so why aren’t you making any milkies?
- >no matter what you do, there’s no milkies coming for Bubble
- >but Bubble needs those milkies!
- >why is your tummy being such a meanie?!
- >Bubble starts to cry, his tears dripping into your fluff
- >”Nu, Bubbew…nu cwy, ow mummeh gon’ cwy…”
- >as soon as you say that, the sky itself starts making sad wawas
- >it falls down on you and Bubble
- >you want to cry more than ever now, but you can’t cry in front of Bubble, or else he’ll be even more sad than he is now
- >so you just sniffle and get back on your hoofsies, putting Bubble on top of you
- >you really need to find a human home soon
- >and you just keep walking
- >and walking
- >and walking
- >when, suddenly, you see something far ahead
- >so many human hidey-homes, you can’t even count them all
- >with new energy, you run towards the homes as fast as you can, and you feel your leggies hurting under you
- >after what feels like forever, you finally arrive at a big dummy wall that stops you from getting to the homes!
- >but Blue told you all about these
- >even if he is a dummy, he told you that you need to look for diggy spots, and then you can get to the homes
- >so you look, and look
- >quickly, you find a small space that you can fit a hoofsie into!
- >you begin to dig as fast and as hard as you can
- >you dig and dig and dig
- >your hoofsies hurt so much right now, and they’re making boo-boo juice, but you’ve come this far
- >after an even longer time, you can finally fit through
- >you sneak under the space, and take Bubble with you, gently
- >your head feels silly and your hoofsies don’t feel like they’re working right, but you push through it
- >looking around the new grassies place, you see a person inside!
- >you want to run to them, greet them, give them huggies, have them help Bubble
- >but you can’t seem to move properly
- >you’re trying to go ahead, but you’re going to the sides
- >the world is spinning around you really fast
- >too fast
- >you start to make sickie wawas as dark time happens just as fast
- >right before it’s all dark time, though, you see the person
- >headed your way
- >and then you take sleepies
- -------------------------------------------------
- >you are Anon, and a feral fluffy mother has just showed up in your backyard and keeled over
- >you take one look at the corpse and know the cause
- >she must have eaten from a poisonous bush, probably seeing the leaves as food
- >quite a few fluffies in the area have died from eating them
- >and, judging by the small puddle of vomit beside her, she got the same deal
- >the tiny chirping beside her, however, belongs to a small foal, about two or three weeks old
- >you gently pick him up and cup him in your hands
- >”Hey, little fella. What’s your name?”
- >he just chirps some more
- >odd
- >most fluffies should be able to talk around this age
- >and it doesn’t look like a runt
- >”Are you alright, pal?”
- >stupid question, his mom just died
- >you go to brush some rain from his brow, and feel an unusually hot patch on his forehead
- >”Whoa, I think you’ve got a fever, little guy.”
- >the foal looks at you through glassy, teary eyes, and manages to choke out a few words
- >”Mummeh…hoomin…hewp…nu cwy…”
- >you begin to piece together what happened
- >the mother must have realized that her foal was sick, and headed out looking for help
- >she’s lucky
- >she chose the right backyard to look for it
- >”Let’s get you dried off, little guy. Then I’ll see what I can do about that fever of yours.”
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