The Woolybays Home of Zanabia: A Very Woolly Origin Story

If you ever find yourself wandering through Zanabia and notice a house that looks like it grew naturally out of a haystack, married a pine tree, and then adopted a very confident fireplace—you have arrived at the Woolybays home. Congratulations. Remove your shoes. They are probably already being judged by the floor. The Woolybays did not move into Zanabia. That would imply paperwork, permissions, and someone saying, “Please sign here.” The Woolybays emerged—slowly, warmly, and with excellent insulation. How the Woolybays Came Into Existence Long before Zanabia had tidy footpaths and politely confused signboards, the northern winds were extremely bored. One legendary winter, these winds tangled themselves with wild mountain sheep, a forgotten basket of knitting needles, and a moonbeam that had far too much confidence for its own good. The result was a family line so warm, so resilient, and so gently humorous that the land itself paused and said, “Yes. These ones belong here.” Thus were born the Woolybays—not sheep pretending to be Zanabians, but Zanabians who happened to be extraordinarily sheep-shaped. Legend says the very first Woolybays ancestor sneezed during a blizzard and accidentally insulated an entire valley. Zanabia took notes. Winters have never been the same since. A Brief but Highly Respected Genealogy Inside the Woolybays home hang framed portraits of Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma Woolybays, both wearing expressions that clearly say, “We survived winters you wouldn’t believe, and we did it without complaining… excessively.” Great-Grandpa Woolybays pioneered what later became known as the Practical Wool Philosophy, which stated that if something existed, it should either be worn, sat upon, wrapped around someone else, or turned into a scarf “just in case.” Great-Grandma Woolybays perfected hospitality to a near-mythical level—any guest leaving hungry was immediately chased down with soup, bread, and a look of gentle disappointment. Their descendants followed this path faithfully. Grandpa Woolybays, current keeper of wisdom, wears glasses not because he needs them, but because they make him look more trustworthy when discussing wool prices, weather patterns, and life in general. He believes deeply in slow mornings, warm mugs, and the radical idea that most problems shrink when wrapped in kindness. Grandma Woolybays runs the household with calm efficiency and alarming accuracy. She can knit, bake, listen, and correct your life choices simultaneously—without ever raising her voice. Papa Woolybays manages logistics, wool grading, seasonal planning, and pretending not to be emotional when everyone else is asleep. Mama Woolybays oversees design, colors, patterns, and community connections. She ensures no one forgets birthdays, core values, or why Zanabia matters in the first place. The Three Little Woolybays—two sons and one daughter, all under five—are living bundles of giggles, sweaters, and strategic chaos. They believe wool is edible, furniture is optional, and life is best experienced loudly. And then there is the pet Froghead, who arrived one rainy evening, never left, and now supervises tea breaks with an expression of deep responsibility. Zanabians Through and Through The Woolybays are not “visitors” or “settlers.” They are Zanabians at heart, hoof, and soul. Their core values are stitched into every beam of the house: Warmth over wealth Community over convenience Humor before panic Everyone gets tea, no exceptions They believe Zanabia is not just a place on a map, but a promise—that no one is just one thing, and no one faces winter alone. The Wool Business: Serious, but Never Stiff The Woolybays wool business is legendary. Their wool is softer than excuses and warmer than unsolicited advice. Zanabians swear a single Woolybays scarf can fix bad moods, awkward silences, and mild existential dread. Production is never rushed. Each piece is ethically grown, emotionally supported, and gently encouraged to become its best possible self. Goathead Zanabian tailors occasionally assist, bringing flair, debate, and unnecessary drama—but the results are always magnificent. Every winter, half of Zanabia wears Woolybays wool. The other half already owns it and refuses to admit how much they love it. Summer Side Hustle: The Woolybays Café When summer arrives and the wool takes a well-earned rest, the Woolybays seamlessly switch roles and open their beloved seasonal café. It is not flashy. It does not try too hard. It simply works. The café serves warm bread, cool drinks, hearty snacks, and stories that linger longer than planned. Travelers arrive hungry and leave questioning their life priorities. Zanabians gather to talk, laugh, gently disagree, and agree on nothing—exactly the way they like it. The Froghead oversees quality control with quiet authority. The House Itself The Woolybays home is built of wood, wool, and hay grass, layered like a well-lived memory. Everything creaks politely. Lanterns glow as if they’re in on a secret. Yarn exists everywhere—decorative, functional, and occasionally alive. It is aesthetic. It is funny. It is impossible to leave without feeling slightly better about existence. Their Love for Zanabia Ask any Woolybays what Zanabia means to them, and they’ll pause—not because they don’t know, but because it matters. Zanabia is where differences are woven together. Where winters are survived collectively. Where summers are shared. Where everyone—feathered, furred, scaled, or wool-covered—has a place by the fire. The Woolybays don’t just keep Zanabia warm. They remind it why warmth matters. And if you visit their home, expect tea, laughter, and possibly a scarf you didn’t know you needed—but absolutely did.