falcon feral ferals foal hope hunting questionable smarty

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Ranger Dan

It had been a hard year.

You, a monochrome golden coloured fluffy named Munchkin, had been leading your herd through the dense forest near your former home. After being thrown out by your neglectful owner, it was up to find nummies on your own. You found your current herd starving and being abused by a tyrannical smarty. After putting this pathetic fluffy in his place, you became the smarty and moved your herd away from the dangerous town center into the wilds were gwassie nummies were more prevalent.

It was a good idea at the time as you nomadically followed the food. However, after some time you got lost in the deep forest and were subject to giant kittew mustas, screeching birdie munstahs, and grey furied barkie munstahs who stalked you throughout the night. Their dark shapes were always at the edge of your fluff piles, and it was not rare to wake up to a hysterical mare sobbing at the edge of a bloodied bush, begging you to go help her spwecial fweidn. Your delicate family dwindled and became more tired as you ran through the thick vegetation for innumerable bwight tims.

Then the bwight tims became darker, the air became colder, and the nummies almost all but left. White sky pwoda blanketed everything you could touch, and seemed to strangle the life out of forest. The fooweber sweepies suffered by your herd increased dramatically as fluffies died all around you from the cold or starvation. Their were less munstahs prowling around but the barkie musntahs ruthlessly pursued you in the hopes for easy nummies. No matter how much you begged or reasoned with them, aruging you were fwuffies nu nummies, they still came and carried your members away. The fluff piles were no longer warm enough and many more died of the cold. Worst of all, not a single litter was able to survive past four bwight tims no matter how many hugs you gave them. The litters kept dying and eventually there were no young foals left for your herd to take care of.

But you are smart, smart enough to lead your herd through danger and find food even in the most unlikely places. You and your strongest stallions figured out how to hunt and bring down elusive chirpy munstahs who foolishly left their hiding spots. Any troublemakers were exiled or killed so as to protect and feed your weaker members. But perhaps the thing that truly helped you survive, you forced your herd to num the dead and dying babbews, despite the terrible hwrt hwurties. The screams of your crying mares shook you to the core, although nothing seemed as terrible as when your spwechuial fwend watched as you devoured every one of her litters.

When the cold broke, and the fwuowa tim bloomed, everything changed. The litters of newborns were finally able to survive beyond the dreaded four day cycle. The landscape exploded with gwassies nummies as the sky pwoda finally ceased. The herd became tough, able to survive and avoid the dark beasts in the night. And you stood in the forefront of your mighty herd, flanked by your steadily growing family.

One day, while the herd rested, you were scouting the thick undergrowth alongside your bwestest babbeh. He had your golden colour but had the same light blue mane as his mother, which made you love him all the more. He was the largest and most pwettiest member of your first litter that had survived the cwodie tims. He knew nothing of the struggles that you had to go through and you had hoped that he would also carry that heart warming smile and childish wonder he wore on his bright little face. You worked hard to teach him how to survive. He was kind to the other children, and brave, always asserting himself like a fluffy many bwight tims his senior. He represented the new age of prosperity your herd faced, brought about by the fwuowa tim. Although fluffies don’t normally name their own children (that was a job for hoomins) you took it upon yourself to reflect this hope in your child: hence you named him Flower.

“Weww guin daddeh?” he said in his squeaking voice, looking at you with his big blue eyes.

“Am seewng awound fwuff pwile suu fwuffies can be swafe. If u am swarty, wittle Fwuowa, u must be bwave fwuffie an pwotewt hwerd. Can u be bwave fo daddeh?”

“Ob cose siwwy daddeh” said Flower with his chipper smile “am bwawest fwuffie fo dah hwerd!”

His enthusiasm warmed your body and made the troubles of the herd seem like a distant dream, a horror that had befallen some other fluffy. Although your friends and babbews that didn’t make it never left your heart, not even for a second, Flower forced you to see the here and now and for that you would be forever grateful to your spwecial fwiend for the gift she has given you.

That’s when you reached the edge of the forest. Suddenly the ground dropped down a steep cliff face. You and your beloved child stopped at the edge of the clearing. You were standing on top of a cliff with the forest stretching seemingly forever. You both gasped at the picturesque view, your breath turning to mist as your excitement rose. To you, it was an entire field of food and possibilities.

“Whoa daddeh! Wook at aww dem nummies! Am dis hwerd’s land?”

You remember your hoomin owners would watch a movie with you. It had a daddeh and babbew kitty munsta standing on a cliff very much like this. You didn’t follow everything in the movie but you do know that the kitty munstah was showing his babbew his land with pride. Your heart swelled as the future in front of your herd only seemed all the brighter, standing alongside your beloved son who would inherit it from you.

“Yes Fwuowa, dis am hewd’s land” you said tearfully, full of emotions at the view. “Dis am Fwuowa’s wand and Mwunkwin’s wand nuow.”

Suddenly, without warning, a high pitched screech could be heard from above you. Before you even knew what happened, a birdie munstah swooped down and grabbed your precious child off the cliff face. You looked at the spot where he was standing, then at the golden shape shape that was rapidly flying away from the cliff, glinting in the sun light. Terror and agony filled your tiny body as you barely comprehended what just happened. All you could do was scream as anguish poured from your very soul:

“FWWWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAA”

-

Be me, Ranger Dan.

The forests were open now that spring broke, and the state was rolling out a new protocol for “pest control” i.e. Fluffy Extermination. Wolves, cougers, hunting licenses, freezing winters and acts of God were no longer enough to keep the population of little pricks in check. They just bred way too quickly, shitting out litters at an alarming rate and subsisting off practically nothing where grass or worms could be found.

It wouldn’t really be a problem if it didn’t mean the rest of the food chain didn’t such a huge boost from the brightly coloured, easy to catch, walking, talking meat bags. The fluffies that weren’t stupid or crazy enough to go deeper into the forest could then migrate back to town with a much larger, more annoying herd than when they left.

So, how do we quell the numbers you ask? Specially trained falcons. The deadliest of bird’s of prey, they can kill anything as big as a rabbit on impact. So the state thought we might as well use them for something other sport, and order hundreds of falcons to be bred, trained and deloped.

My falcon, Melissa, spotted something my human eyes couldn’t see. When she was flying back she had something sparkling in her claw. Only she she rested on your gloved hand (and your ears nearly bled from the screaming) did you realise it was a golden fluffy foal, no doubt losing its mind from the trip it just took.

“DAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDEEEEEHHHHHHHH HWEP FWUWW-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Thankfully it's bitching was quickly silenced by Melissa crunching it’s tiny body like a baby rabbit. God these things are annoying. While she fed I scanned the cliff and figured she must have been able to see the fluffy on there.

“Alright girl, ready for round two? Go see what’s up there!”

Melissa took off like a rocket. About two minutes later her black shape swooped on the cliff and came back carrying another golden object. This one she dropped at high altitude, although Melissa returned faster than it could fall. Five seconds before it hit the ground a terrified SCREEEEE could be heard before the golden object splattered all over the rocks.

You know, although I’m pretty sure fluffies don’t have any genuine emotions, I think it's fair to say that whatever was left of its face held nothing but pure agony.




Uploader Cellshader,
Tags falcon feral ferals foal hope hunting smarty
Rating questionable
Source Unknown
Locked No

Comments

- Reply
Cellshader: Just something a slapped together. Thank you everyone for their suggestions in <https://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/47159#search=user_id%3D4393> and thank you @ElCuCuyfeo for the idea f using hunting birds.
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Barbarossa: Awesome! Please more
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Cellshader: @Barbarossa: Any ideas Barbarossa? Also your series on Byzantine Fluffy torture is fantastic.
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Anonymous1: Nice story.
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Loserton_McAutism_The_Third: And now I hate park rangers. Another item for the "list of careers that I hate for no reason." Right below "Garbage Men" and right above "Mall Cops."

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RQ: Great juxtaposition. I love it when the emotions and being of fluffies is just outright denied by humans

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RevMe: Pretty good — but you might ref the Fluffspeak Primer:
http://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/33576

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UltraKek: Even the most competent fluffies are utterly helpless in the face of a natural predator.

And I do love it when a fluffy's joy and hope is shattered in an instant. All that hard work and struggle to survive through the winter, all in vain. A happy ending.

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UltraKek: I would second the suggestion to sort out your fluffspeak and really take the time to proofread your stories before posting, though.
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Anders_Breivik: I loved the fluffie version of the "lion king" scene!

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guodzilla: @Cellshader: I'm not sure, but I've heard letting a trained falcon eat its own catch is a very bad idea: if that happens, the bird will realize it doesn't need you for food, and it will take off on its own and not come back.
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KazumiTheSmarty: spwecial fweidn

... why the fuck is this a thing
get this monstrousity off our site
make the booru great again
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Anonymous2: pretty good storywise but plz
work on your fluffspeak and grammar it sucked
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ElCuCuyfeo: @Cellshader: Oh my God someone actually listened to my idea on this site!!
Thank you so much! Best Birthday gift ever! =D
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Anonymous3: Enjoyed the concept and story. Your fluffspeak is rekt, though. Sort it out.
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Anonymous4: @RQ: It is hard to say they have emotions when you see one run away after being treated rather well with the reason being that the human did listen to all their demands.
Kind of like the thing that came before them.

I wonder, can someone make a story about a world where fluffies have been given the same rights as humans, but also have to obey the law like any other human with ignorant of the law by them not being acceptable excuse for them breaking the law?
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Anonymous5: Could a falcon pick up and fly with a full-grown adult fluffy? An eagle could, but I wonder about the falcon. Still, nice story!