>Morning of day three.
>You sneak a peek at the little island. It's cloudy, so the fluffies are still snoozing.
>Leave the house to go take care of some errands.
>Four hours later, you return and go out to the deck.
>It appears all hell has broken loose.
>The formerly white pegasus fluffy has told the herd about the 'hooman' she met last night.
>They are looking fucking EVERYWHERE for you now.
>They even look in your direction.
>Since it's overcast, and you're wearing muted colors, they apparently can't see you.
>Most of them are screaming about getting picked.
>”Pick fwuffy!  Fwuffy be good poni!” some of them shout.
>They have no idea where you are, so they toddle about, then shout this or some version of it in every direction.
>You begin to suspect these ponies stayed in a shelter or pet store for a long time.
>That would explain the crate; they got abandoned because nobody ever took them home and became excess inventory.
>The fluffies continue to shout for you to come pick them.
>The white pegasus is just as clueless as her friends, limping about and yelling.
>”Why you walk funny?” the green unicorn asks her, taking a break from screaming.
>”Weggie no work,” she replies.  “Hooman angwy at me fo' make bad poopies.”
>Upon hearing the words 'bad poopies', three of the fluffies cease their searching and run to hide in their sleeping area.
>”Fwuffy sowwy!” one of them, the pink unicorn, screams.  “Pwease no sowwy-stick!”
>”Sowwy-stick mean to fwuffy!  Fwuffy no wike!” the red pegasus adds, shivering.
>You're not sure what they're talking about.
>Internet on laptop to the rescue.
>After looking it up, you wonder if those three fluffies had owners.
>It takes them ten minutes, but the three calm down and rejoin the Hunt for Hooman.
>They still haven't seen you.
>You head in to make lunch, the calls of 'pick fwuffy!' and 'fwuffy wan' pway wif hooman!' still echoing through the air.
 
>An hour later, you're back outside.
>The fluffies seem to have given up.
>”Fwuffy no find hooman,” the yellow earth fluffy cries.
>The topic of fluffy conversation has shifted, depending on the fluffy.
>The grazing fluffies love the grass.
>The playing fluffies are in a rousing game of hide and seek that lasts about 30 seconds per attempt.
>The white pegasus is off by herself on the grassy strip, grazing half heartedly.
>”Why weggie no work?” she asks herself every time she limps.
>The pink and green unicorns are in the pine grove to your right.
>They appear to be shitting, but they've been squatting like that for ten minutes.
>Their faces betray their absolute concentration on the task.
>”Fwuffy want make poopies!” the pink one blurts out as she strains.  “Why poopies no come?”
>You're curious, too.  You watch the grazing fluffies to see if anything odd happens.
>A purple earth fluffy gives you the answer.
>Because of the heavy grazing, the fluffies now have to eat the grass right on the shore.
>Each bite causes them to ingest sand.
>The unicorns are still trying to shit.
>They sound desperate.
>”Poopies come out now!” the green one demands angrily.
>After ten more minutes, the pink one finally succeeds.
>It's at a high cost.  The sand content of their earlier meal makes for a sharp exit.
>”Poopies hurt fwuffy!” she bawls.
>The green one begins bawling too, as she completes her own business.
>They walk painfully back to the strip.
>And immediately begin grazing again, scooping up mouthfuls of sand as they go for what grass is left.
>They're going to get a big surprise in a few hours.
>You head in as it begins to rain.
>”Wawa fall from sky!” the orange earth fluffy yells.
 
>Night has come.
>You hear fluffies screaming from outside, so you head to the deck to check it out.
>Looks like eating sand has come home to roost for the two unicorns.
>They shuffle about with wide eyes and tears streaming.
>”Why tail hurt?  Why poopies mean to fwuffy?” the green one yells.
>Upon examination with your binoculars, you find both of them are trailing blood as they walk.
>”Fwuffy no make poopies anymo'!  Poopies bad!” the pink one cries.
>The others haven't got a fucking clue what's going on.
>”My poopies bwown, why dese wed?” asks the red pegasus.
>You consider an attempt to get the vet out here, but he's 40 miles away in town.
>The green unicorn succumbs to her internal wounds first.
>She collapses on the grassy strip during another attempt to shit.
>Her straining only causes blood to pour, and she bleeds out.
>The pink unicorn meets her fate soon after.
>”Maybe mo' poopies hewp fwuffy feel betta,” she says, squatting on the strip as well.
>Her sustained straining causes blood to squirt, and she goes down after a few minutes.
>”Wha?  Why sleepies on gwass?” the green pegasus asks their corpses.
>The other fluffies all come over to see what's going on.
>In an attempt to rouse their friends, they hug their lifeless bodies.
>After an hour, they give up and go to their sleeping area.
>”Why fwiends no wan' hug? Why fwiends no wan' pway?” the purple earth fluffy asks.
>They eventually fall asleep, still babbling confusedly about what has happened.
>You are moved enough to give the unicorns a lake burial around midnight.
>The ten fluffy ponies are now eight.