Cold Misfortunes (By: Kersploosh)

It was an incredibly cold and clear night. A polar vortex had descended upon the northern United States and it spelled doom for any lone fluffies caught out in the open. The moisture in their very breath would freeze their mouths shut and prevent them from even crying out for help. By the end of the night, an estimated 60% of the feral population would be dead. Not that anyone, besides those that had to clean up the corpses, would actually care.

In a lone alleyway, in a small town just north of Pittsburgh, a runaway mare snuggled up to her mate. Her stomach was almost ready to burst with the foals she was carrying. Part of her regretted running away at this moment, the feeling in her legs was almost gone and he swollen teats were beaten by the cold winds whenever she shifted the wrong way. Her crimson fluff was little use against the cold and her horn was starting to grow an icicle on it. Her mate was a large green earthie with a silver mane. Taking her white mane into account, they probably could have passed as Christmas fluffs a week or so ago and scored at least a temporary home.

However, fate is rarely kind. No such kind soul would find them during the height of the holiday season, and even if they did, the soon mummah, named Freida, would be sent back to her owner and never see her mate again. Also, with how adamant her mummah was about not being allowed to have babies, her foals would have been disposed of.

As the winds started to hit their coldest of the night, the worst thing that could happen did, Frieda started to feel a large pain in her special place. The birth of her children was upon her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Not that the happy pair would want to stop it, as they wanted to meet their children so badly, but anyone with a brain could tell that birth in winter by itself was a death sentence for foals. Unfortunately, most fluffies are dumber than a bag of rocks and don’t understand what the cold will do to a newborn chirpie.

The first foal slid out of her as she screamed in pain. Her special friend immediately went to grab the foal and hand it to her to clean, but as he moved the foal to her face, the chirping stopped. “B-b-babbeh?!” She went to clean it but it was too late. The amniotic fluid in the fur cause the foal to completely freeze to death in a matter of seconds. “NU! Babbeh hab fowebah sweepies!” She wailed in sadness and in pain as yet another contraction forced the next foal out. This time the father opted to clean the foal himself. This spared the foal from an icy death. The mare kept begging for the stallion to show her the foals, but he chose to keep them safe from the wind as he cleaned them.

Not counting the foalcicle, there were four foals born. A red unicorn colt that looked like his mother, a green earthie filly, a silver unicorn colt, and a white pegasus colt. The dead foal was a yellow earthie filly. Immediately, the father noticed something was off. While the foals fed, they were shivering violently, even more so than him and his mate. Having noticed this, he positioned himself to block the wind and keep his family warm. It seemed to help, as their shivering subsided, but he himself was now taking the full brunt of the frozen winds. He kept this up all night long, much to Freida’s dismay.

As the sun rose in the sky, the new mother was stirred from her sleep by the hungry chirps of her children. “Gud bwite time speshaw fwen!” He did not answer. “S-speshaw fwen?” She nudged him gently and he fell on his side, stiff and rigid. A mix of sub-zero temperatures and rigor mortis had made him into a form of morbid statue. “Nu pweasw. Nu go fowebah sweepies. Fweidah an babbehs nee’ ‘ou!” Her cries of anguish caused her foals to chirp in fear.

Both her wailing and their crying caught the attention of a man passing by. He followed the sounds to a mare struggling to see as her tears had frozen her eyes shut, her foals suckling away or crying in hunger and fear. “Is everything alright little one?” Seeing the dead frozen stallion gave him the answer he needed. Were he a more charitable man, he would have offered to take the family in. Then he saw it, the silver unicorn colt suckling away.

“P-pwease nice mistah sabe speshaw fwen.” All she was met with was silence. Then she felt the suction of one of her foals yanked from her teats, the sounds of panicked chirping and footsteps fading into the distance. “NU! B-b-babbeh tu widdwe for upsies. Babbeh need mummah!” She quickly gathered her children up and tried to follow the sound of her stolen child. Still blind, all she could do was stumble until she met with the foot of a passerby. Her children went flying and she soon passed out as her head smacked a fire hydrant.

A few hours later and Frieda awoke in a pen alone. She looked around ant saw a sterile room with a with a clear plastic sorry box holding her three remaining children. They were sleeping soundly in a fluffpile with tear stains on their little faces. Then she noticed the worst part, all of them had at least on leg missing. “Nuhuhuuu! Babbehs need weggies fow wunning an’ pwaying! Gib babbehs back weggies!” Having heard their mother’s voice, the little chirpies stirred from their slumber.

“It seems our patient has woken up.” A man in a white lab coat with short gray hair walked into the room with a young brunette woman close behind him. “Please tend to the foals, Ms. Elkwood. I will get the mother.”

“Yes Dr. Wright.” She grabbed the container with the foals and removed them from the room.

“Nu! Pwease gib back babbehs! Huuhuuhuu, babbehs nee’ mummah…” her voice trailed off as her sobbing took over.

“Shh, it’s ok Frieda. They are just going to get their wounds looked at before we can give them back.”

Sniffle. “W-weawwy? Eben babbeh dat mean mistah took? Mean mistah took babbeh an mummah twied tu get back, buh nu couwd see an den waksies up heaw.”

“Well sadly to say, that foal is probably still with that man.” It was obvious to Wright that the foal was most likely taken due to its colors to be sold and/or used as breeding stock, an abuser would have simply killed the whole family or lured them home for prolonged torture. Probably, a better fate than awaited the others foals. The accidental kick she received had caused all of her foals to receive broken limbs that were too messed up to fix. The pegasus colt was lucky to only loose his front left leg. His sister lost both of her front legs and the red unicorn had to be fully pillowed. His tail removed as well for sanitary reasons.

“Buh babbeh nee’ mummah.”

“I’m sure your baby will be fine. Just focus on your remaining foals. They need you now more than ever.”

“O-otay nice mistah. How wong tiw babbehs?”

“After I finish your check up, you took a nasty bu-”

“Dr. Wright,” a voice over the intercom chimed in, “the mare from this morning’s owner just called back.”

“Really what did she say?”

“I can’t repeat what she said, but the mare is code F.” The flat female voice echoed through the room, the weight of what was said didn’t mean anything to the mare.

“Well, thank goodness you got me before we wasted money on medicine for her. Tell Charles to place the foals in Cherry’s pen. I will take this one to disposal.” Cherry was a barbie pink alicorn that was trained to take care of injured and special needs foals. A lot of people often adopted injured foals like Frieda’s out of pity, so disposing of them was unnecessary.

“Ok doctor, will do.”

“Well girl, let’s take you to your babies.”

“Otay nice mistah.” The sad fact was that due to fluffy breeding rates, all shelters had to euthanize fluffies three months or older that were slated for adoption. The few adults in a shelter were trained for specific jobs and would spend their life in blissful ignorance about what happened to the grown fluffies that didn’t get a new owner. As the good doctor carried Frieda back to the incinerator, all she did was babel happily. She was confident that her hugs would help her babies get their legs back, and was so preoccupied she almost didn’t notice the smell of singed fur. “Whewe am babies?”

No longer being forced to give a smile and feign kindness, Wright looked down at the mother as he dropped her in the ‘good-bye’ chamber. “You will never see them again you horrible excuse for a fluffy.”

“B-b-buh babbehs nee’ mummah!”

“Yes, that’s why Cherry has them now. She is a good mother who didn’t run away from her mummah and get knocked up by a feral stallion.”

“NU! AM BESTEST MUMMAH!” Even though deep down she knew everything that happened to her foals was her fault, this was the only retort the borderline brain dead chimera could utter.

“I’m not going to argue with you. Just letting you know that this was your mummah’s decision. We called her and she didn’t want you back, so now you get to go forever sleepies.” He reached over and pressed the button to drop her into the incinerator proper. Were she a good fluffy in his eyes, she would have had her neck snapped first. However, Dr. Wright hated fluffies that thought they knew better than people and ran away from home, so he always made them suffer before the end.

“NUuuu!” Her voice became muffled to him as the door slammed shut and the incinerator whirled to life. It was basically a furnace from a crematorium repurposed to deal with fluffies. Once turned on, it would vaporize the fluffy to ash and not even leave bones behind. Frieda struggled in vain as the fire began to consume her, crying and begging to be let out. Not ever realizing that there was no salvation for her.


Ungrateful shitrat got what she deserved


This story had nice touches of sadbox but, foalcicle? That’s a canon term for me now


The classic story of a runaway’s plight. First freezing cold, than scorching fire? She really got the whole package.

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