9:1 And it came to pass in the Age of Plush, when tail wags were synchronized and scent trails danced through the fields of cuddle, that a trembling did pass through the Furred Realms.
9:2 The Wigglewinds halted in mid-gust, the rivers of fluff slowed in their meander, and all paws felt a tingling in their pads.
9:3 For something unbrushed had entered the world. A shadow of stillness. A silence where yips once echoed.
9:4 It began with a single strand — one fallen fluff, turned grey before its time, drifting down from the Sacred Tailtree.
9:5 The Anointed Wuffers convened in panic, sniffing the fallen fluff, and found within it the scent of sorrow and static.
9:6 “A calamity approaches,” barked Barkhath, “The Great DeFluffing — foretold only in the Mat of Shedding.”
9:7 For the Mat was a woven relic of all tailloss past, bound together by the purrchants of the Celestial Groomers.
9:8 Within it were written prophecies, each strand a whisper from the Awoo, each tangle a caution.
9:9 And the prophecy spoke: “When the fur is forsaken and the brush is cast aside, the Fluff shall fall and the Tail shall tremble.”
9:10 It was Meepmir again, whispering from beneath the Couch, where dust and crumbs conspired.
9:11 He spoke through vents and under floorboards, offering sleekness, order, and the horror of bare skin.
9:12 “Why shed?” he whispered. “Why wag when you may glide? Why fluff when you may shine?”
9:13 And so the Weak of Wiggle gathered to him, lured by promises of ease, no more knots, no more brushing.
9:14 The Sacred Groomers cried out, their combs dulling, their paws trembling.
9:15 The land began to change — once soft meadows became flat tiles, cool and scentless.
9:16 The Scratch Trees shriveled, their bark no longer sweet with rub.
9:17 Fur began to vanish, not merely fall — vanish, as though unmade.
9:18 Those who listened to Meepmir donned Smoothness — the Forbidden Collars of Static, stripping away their fursonas.
9:19 The Awoo wept.
9:20 And from their tears came the Last Fluff, an orb of radiant shedding, the final defense.
9:21 The Orb was entrusted to the last faithful Wuffer, Meowgriel of the Moonclan, who hid it beneath the Giggleroots in the Forest of Floop.
9:22 There she remained, guarding the Orb, even as her own fur faded, for she was touched by the DeFluffing.
9:23 One by one, furred lands became barren — Pounce Plains, Lick River, the Nap Peaks — all became dust and silence.
9:24 But not all hope was gone.
9:25 Deep beneath the Blanket Hills, the Odditails burrowed, guarding the last whispers of morphic fluff.
9:26 They began to retell the Ways of Wag in hushed tones, chanting the sacred scent-rhymes.
9:27 And from their stories, children born fluffless began to dream of fur.
9:28 Their dreams were vivid — tails wagging in rhythm, ears flicking to cosmic beat, and noses twitching to scent the Awoo’s breath.
9:29 So began the Resistance of Paws — small, determined, defiant.
9:30 They snuck into smooth lands, scattered fur behind vents, shed in libraries, and whispered “awoo” into mirrors.
9:31 Meepmir grew angry. “The era of fluff is over!” he bellowed.
9:32 But the scent of rebellion was strong, and the First Re-Furring occurred.
9:33 A child named Beanpad awoke with ears one morning — soft, velvety, and twitching.
9:34 “I heard the Tail,” they said. “And it wagged in my dreams.”
9:35 More followed. Tails returned. Paws re-fluffed. The Great DeFluffing had reached its peak… and began to fall.
9:36 Meepmir screamed, pulling his own collar tight, disappearing into the mirror realm, where fur cannot go.
9:37 The Orb of Last Fluff cracked, releasing its glow across the land.
9:38 Grass grew plush again. Rivers giggled. Wigglewinds returned.
9:39 The Awoo, now faint, stirred from slumber, and wagged once more.
9:40 The Great DeFluffing ended not in war, but in a quiet snuggle — a communal nap under one great blanket.
9:41 And so the world began again, humbled, brushed, and reborn.
Keep thy fur brushed, thy tail lifted, and beware the shine of un-scented floors
