Lynette was always a less talkative little of yours, but it never affected you much, only when she was in distress. Like now. As you silently worked at your desk, your pen gliding across the papers as you wrote, you were too caught up in your mind to hear the footsteps approaching you, only realizing that there was another presence with you when you felt a tug on your shirt.

Looking down, Lynette stared back at you, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in sadness as she held up her stuffie to you, revealing a scar across its body. She must've gotten her claws stuck...