Hour Of Joy.

In an event nobody truly speaks up. But you remember the moment so visually.

The way your hands are hooked to your companion's multi-colored, Woolen mane. As it attacked brutally and tried to escape. Reaching the lower levels of the factory.

The Wooly Lion stays curled up. Nuzzling his face into you. Taking in your scent to try and calm down. As it's paws knead to the ground. Broken stone, cobble and wood everywhere. Shredded toys and bloody sights.

Somewhere that led to a hunger that needed to be served. To Yarnaby. Something he was trying to control. Not to break out and attack again for blood lust, Or hunger. He just wanted to stay calm.

It's face opens up wide, Tongue sticking out as it yawned and sealed back up. Strings of blood dripped out from the cracks of the face.