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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
 
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>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
 
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>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.”