Wubbu

Moosh

Nobody can quite explain how something this big and this round ended up grazing the cloud-meadows of Cloudloft — there are no roads up here a Moosh could have climbed — but up they got, and they are absolutely thriving. They drift between the floating pastures on stubby legs, forelocks blowing in the high wind, entirely unbothered by the drop below. Sleepy, sturdy, and endlessly content, a Moosh asks only for brushed fur, a warm kitchen, and an unhurried walk along the edge of the sky.