Where: Clubs Outskirts
What's happening: A group of carnies are raising some tents on a very miserable afternoon. Dodger, a young and spunky furret, finds Tobias's egg and becomes as close to the egg's primary caretaker as any of the rabble will ever get.
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The day in which Tobias’s egg appeared was not particularly glamorous or eventful. In fact, it was almost miserable. The faction of Clubs, while more high-tech than others, was not exempt from the muggy heat that was a spring afternoon, nor did it miss out on it’s fair share of midday showers.
“Awright, boyos, throw yor backs int’ ‘et! We gotta get dis tent up afor tomorrow!” Derris’s thick, rough voice sliced through the heaviness of the afternoon’s atmosphere, a sharp reminder of the task at hand. In fact, the raticate’s voice was sharper than any whip, as those beneath him knew punishment would be in store if they didn’t obey, and they pushed on. The earth was damp from the frequent showers that had peppered the morning and mud clung to each and every object that brushed against Wonderland’s surface.
The burly, older carny harrumphed as he paced the lines. Younger faction members didn’t dare raise their eyes or slack their work beneath their leader’s steely gaze. It was only when Derris was out of earshot that any dared utter any complaints.
“Oi, ain’t ‘et about time fer a break? We been at et all morn’ an it’s well past lunch!”
“Ol’ slavedriver’ll work ya ‘arder if ‘e ‘ears ya flappin’ yer gums, Dodger.”
It was that exact moment, when Ferris, Derris’s brother, was berating Dodger the furret, that something quite unexpected shook up the rather droll and unyielding afternoon. Dodger turned slightly to give some retort to the rattata, when his foot caught on something that hadn’t been there a moment before. He stumbled back, falling away from the partially erected tent, and only just missed the egg that had suddenly appeared.
The young man fell in the mud in a rather undignified fashion and his pale face flushed bright red in both embarrassment and anger. His lips twisted and turned as he prepared to berate the other, who surely tripped him! Only his expressive eyes fell on the egg that surely had not been there moments before. Muck and mud forgotten, he pushed himself to his knees and instinctively reached for the green and yellow thing. It was obviously a politoed, what with the swirls and the bright blue plume that sprouted from the egg’s top. It was certainly cold and in need of warming.
“D’ysee where this done came from?”
“I ‘en’t! Derris’ll ‘ave yor ‘ead if ‘e catches ya wrasslin’ in t’mud. ‘Ell, ‘e’d ‘ave mine and we’re kin.”
“I cain’ just leave et ‘ere, it’ll get cracked fer sure!”
“Hurry up ‘n get it t’the commons, then. I’ll try ‘n cover for ya, mebbey ‘e won’t come down too ‘ard. Mebbey ‘e got a soft spot for eggs or sommat.”
The furret needed no second bidding and quickly darted off, the egg clutched tightly to his chest, mud caking nearly every surface. A nice, hot bath was in order, should the heater be working properly. Then he’d find out what to do. He didn’t know a damn thing about eggs, nor did any of his messmates. It would certainly be an interesting endeavor.
