Smiling Critters: A Turn To The Story.

High Treason.

But it's not all rosy.
Hoppy didn't seem to like me.
A strong, reckless, honest and stubborn girl, very realistic and incapable of seeing her friends suffering. But she had a bit of trust issues.
Specially to me.
She was kind and compassionate with the others, but with me, her attitude was different. She was cold, distant, distrustful. She kept me at a safe distance and she got uncomfortable, especially, if I was close to DogDay and Bobby.
I guess she doesn't trust me because I come from outside. But the rest are not distrustful. Why does she? I think I need one more detail to understand it.

Still, despite being different, they are all together, and have been able to protect a stranger like me.
But of course, BullyBull had put his nose in more than expected and desired, and was getting closer and closer to breaking up the Smiling Critters.

I know BullyBull well. He is so, so curious and intrusive that he often gets into trouble, some trouble so, so shady, that he found himself in an enormously dangerous commitment.

But let's start from the very beginning to explain it.

I was going to be another Smiling Critter. I was going to be introduced to the team and I was going to take care of and play with children, to show them that luck is not something you have or don't have; Luck is in the world around you, and you have to look for it!
But a strange event began before my introduction that I did not understand until years later; the Hour of Joy.
I luckily escaped, and witnessed a pair of adult human bodies being dragged down by spindly, pinkish arms, never to return.
I was lucky they didn't detect me.
I spent years lurking everywhere on the surface. In fact, I could see the street through the lobby windows.
There my dream grew; freedom.
My life was and was going to be centered in a cubicle. I wanted to walk, run, look at the world, get to know it.
But dreams are dreams. And eventually, I came to understand that humans would be afraid to see a giant stuffed llama prowling the street. So I gave up on those dreams and settled for what I had.

A few years passed in solitude, and eventually I found him. I will never forget how I met him.
I found him sitting on the ground, with his hands and mouth covered in blood, his eyes full of tears, in tremendously deep shock.
He looked at me, but soon turned his gaze towards nothing.
I remember sitting next to him and looking at him. He looked at me again...
...and he started to cry.
He simply began to cry.
Sound strange, right? It sounds strange to my present self that BullyBull cries. But of course, those were different times.
He put his head on my shoulder and I put my hand on his shoulder. He was crying for a long time while I tried to console him.
Finally, when he calmed down, he looked at me and we introduced ourselves. I even remember the exact words.

BullyBull: Thank you.

LuckyLlama: You're welcome.

BullyBull: ...I'm BullyBull.

LuckyLlama: LuckyLlama; Remember my name.

BullyBull: I'll remember.

Short, right? Don't let it surprise you; we didn't have much to share then.
That's where our friendship began.
We were very similar to each other. We were extroverted, very talkative, but BullyBull had a much shorter temper, while I was more patient and a good listener. So the few disputes we had used to last a long time, because he didn't listen to me and I didn't understand him.
But one way or another, we ended up fixing it. And don't think that it was a toxic friendship relationship by any means; We rarely fought, and the reason for the fight was usually nonsense.
Thus one more year passed, and I believed that I had already found my place, that if I died I would not do it alone, that I would have someone by my side forever.
But a new problem arose.

BullyBull seemed to be hiding something during the final stretch. He would leave under the pretext of looking for supplies, and he would not return until much later. He showed no signs of life during his absence, and when he returned, he looked bad; Many times he would return hurt, with bruises or cuts, very tired, with a distracted air.
Once I found some horizontal cuts on his forearm, in the area of ​​the veins. He had been self-harming himself in some way. Still, he didn't give me any explanations. His character became greatly bitter; He stopped laughing, talking, being with me spiritually.