(Written on thin sheets of pressed reed-paper, the corners smudged with berry juice.)
I had heard tales of the creature they call the Fluffokka, or Quokkatuff, long before I laid eyes upon one. The Alfar Tribe speak of them fondly, saying their constant smile wards away ill spirits. Traders from Midgard only mutter about their fur, which is spun into cloth sturdy enough for travel and soft enough for bedding.
I confess — I paid a wandering elf from Alfheim a modest sum to bring me one alive. It was not greed for its tufflint that drove me, for such fiber can be bought in any market. Rather, I wanted the creature itself, curious to see whether such a smiling beast could truly be tamed.
The first lesson: a Fluffokka cannot be forced. They are not Wartusks to be broken with whip and bridle. They must be coaxed with patience. Sweet berries are their delight, more than meat or grain, and they will follow a hand that bears them. It took weeks of quiet feeding before mine dared rest at my feet.
Their pouch produces a steady stream of tufflint fiber, which must be combed lest it tangle. The Weavers spin it into everyday cloth, often mixing it with spider-silk or goat hair. Nearly every household owns something of Fluffokka fiber — a blanket, a shawl, or even simple wrappings.
Untended, they grow restless, gnawing leather straps or nibbling on wood. But with care they are calm companions, curling beside the hearth, their eyes bright and their smiles unbroken. Some swear they recognize their keeper’s voice, tilting their heads when called.
So I write this not as a warning, but as a guide: a Fluffokka is best kept not for its fiber, but for its company. Treat it with gentleness, and it will reward you with warmth in both fur and spirit.
— Edvarr Stonescribe of Midgard