The pair worked their tails off most of the morning and well into the afternoon, setting the scene the best they could and doing a fair amount of digging. Luckily for them, I was a digging wonder due to my Burrower perk, which would allow me to dig through whatever his claws could cut through at a pace much greater than one of my size. In this case, I spent a fair amount of time tunneling around the steep rocky incline of one side of the valley, which was a mixture of dirt and rocks, mostly smaller ones but a good collection of boulders as well. Since they didn’t know if and when the bobcat quartet would show up, they had to make sure they had the basic setup of their trap in place quickly and use any remaining time to expand upon it for maximum effect.

“Newt, for the last time, your negotiation will be a success even if you live through it. In case you haven’t noticed, the cats seem to have no issues making it through alive.”

“I don’t know, mate, I’m not sure it would feel right without a little sacrifice,” a not-fully-convinced Newt responded. “I’ll try, I guess, but won’t make any promises,” he added. “Sometimes I get a gut feeling and have to stick with it.”

Not willing to waste any more time pounding this point home, I went back to digging. I think that gut feeling he gets is more literal than appropriate, but I can’t worry about this now. “Well, I’ll be happy if you don’t forget your lines.”

“No worries, Rat! I’ve got this! Negotiating and actoring are what I do best!” Newt flashed Rat Damon with two thumbs-up-equivalent gesture and turned around, starting to run through his lines for perhaps the twentieth time.

I just smiled and shook my head in disbelief, but the irrepressible Newt did not seem to notice. If that guy had double the common sense I think he has, he’d be less than three-quarters more intelligent than I suspect he is. I’m going to choose to ignore his statement regardless. Not letting doubt set in, I returned to his physical tasks. Everything was shaping up on his end. Only the question of whether the bobcats would fall for it remained.

The pair continued their work for not quite an hour before the fur on my back began to stand up, indicating my danger sense perk was triggering. As planned, I quickly darted into the main tunnel entrance I had constructed directly below the largest concentration of rocks on the hillside. I used my stealth and camouflage 2 perk to hide inside the larger main cavern I had formed. Using the sole support pillar of earth and rock in the center of the room to hide behind, I waited, nervous that Newt Wellington the newt would not be able to pull this off. If he didn’t, the side tunnel I made would serve a secondary purpose which hopefully included a clean getaway. It was all up to Newt now.

***

Newt was no spring chicken. He did not, in fact, consider himself to be a bird of any variety. He was proud to call himself a newt. He wasn’t a salamander, with their blatantly disregard for the arts. Nor was he a toad, spending his days brooding, only brooding, staring out on the world with their typical overdramatic angst. And he surely wasn’t a frog, who was just as likely to steal your food with their long tongue as leave your restaurant without tipping. No, no, no, he was a newt, and damn proud of it.

His calling had always been one involving his ability to get others to see things in a new light. At home, he was considered so good at this that his people, so excited to share him with the world, sent him out so they wouldn’t “feel bad that they kept him to themselves.” His people were always running out and exclaiming things like “what a tool!” and “I wish he would leave!” and “why can’t some other newt clan experience him? Why?!” He took all this advice in stride, for he knew what it meant. It was unfair to keep this kind of talent secreted away in one clan and hoard his talents all to themselves. That is why when he gave his seven-hour farewell speech to those of his home, he wasn’t surprised that most of them left before it was finished. He knew that if they had stayed for the whole affair, they may have not had the courage to allow him to leave.

Around this time, something very peculiar happened to Newt. As he was enjoying a lovely stroll away from the nest on his way to explore the world, the world he was about to explore began to fade away. After a few moments the view of the sky and outdoors was replaced by the that of an ornate onyx altar on which he found himself standing directly in the center. Looking around were strange bipedal beings, gargantuan in nature, uttering nonsensical words and phrases in unison, as if in some sort of trance. Upon seeing his appearance in the middle of their prayer circle or whatnot, they ceased their incantation and stared wide-eyed at what they saw.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Well, Brett, it certainly doesn’t look like what I had imagined. I dunno, I was expecting an alligator to be, um, larger?” the robed one in grey spoke to the other in red.

“Wait, Jonas, you don’t seem too confident. I assumed you had seen an alligator before. You have seen an alligator before, right?” Brett responded.

“Funny thing, that. I thought you had all this vast experience with reptiles of all sorts. What was that you said your father was? A herpetologist?” an exasperated Jonas rebutted.

“Yeah, he is, but I most certainly am not! Where in the Nine Hells did you get that idea? Yenny, did you know he thought this?” Brett asked with a scowl on his face.

The woman wearing black and green robes shrugged quite unhelpfully.

“Some help you are! Jonas, give me the damn alligator statuette.” Brett reached out a demanding hand before Jonas slowly held it out to him, eventually snatching it more aggressively than strictly necessary. “What in the High Lector’s name is this?” He held out the statuette, which looked indeed nothing like an alligator. “It looks like the kind of shite your nephew Lester would make at school! Wait a second, is this something Lester made at school?!”

“I can explain. . .“ Jonas tried to placate his angry colleague while he backpedaled toward the open window behind him.

“By Tempus, it is something your damn nephew made! Do you know how much preparation went into preparing the ritual?! You had one damn job, get a high-quality alligator figurine!” Brett’s eyes raged and where his eyes went, his body followed.

Newt watched, unconcerned that he comprehended every bit of the strange creatures’ language, as the giant in red charged the one in grey slamming him painfully against the stone frame of the large window of the Enchanter’s Tower ritual chamber. As Jonas had the wind knocked out of him from the impact, it sent the small figurine flying out of the window.

As the figurine fell victim to the force of gravity, Newt Wellington attempted to introduce himself to the large mammalian creatures, but they seemed not to notice him. I guess they are all caught up in whatever that was about. No matter, this gives me more time to look arou. . . As this thought almost reached completion, the world began to fade again as an exceptionally large seagull caught and swallowed the approximately newt-shaped alligator figurine, thus becoming its new master. With the change in ownership, Newt was sent back to his own plane to the place he had been walking only a few moments prior. Newt Wellington, not one to dwell on things he could not control, shrugged and walked on.

“That was odd. I wonder what just happened?” Newt asked aloud.

What you have experience was the travel to and from the material plane to the world of Rigara. You are now bound to a magical figurine.

“Oh! Hello there? Who is it? Mom is that you?” he responded aloud to the voice in his head.

Hello Newt, would you like to refer to me as Mom even though it has been a while since she passed a. . .

“Well, of course I would! It would be proper to call you Ellen or Mrs. Wellington! I am your son, after all.”

I have noted this, but you should be aware that I am not your mother, just an . . .

Newt immediately interrupted, “Hah! Good one, Mom! You’ve got the best sense of humor!”

But Newt, I am only a. . .

Once again, the energetic newt butted in, “Not today, Mom! You won’t fool me. You have to get up earlier in the morning to get the best of Newt Wellington!” Newt thought he heard a sigh but couldn’t be sure.

Regardless, Newt, you have been one of a small minority of creatures to become part of the system that is ubiquitous on worlds such as Rigara. With only a thought, you can . . .

“So, how’s Dad?” Newt cut in.

“Mom” didn’t answer for quite some time and when she did, the voice seemed louder and slower. Were a casual observer able to hear her voice, they would think she was explaining simple directions to a small child.

Dad is fine, Newt.

There is that sigh again. . . and a groan? Newt looked around to find the source but was unsuccessful.

I am always here for you, Newt. If you have questions about anything I will answer them to the best of my ability.

“I can always count on my good old Mom! Of course, I know you will always be there for me. You’re the best Mom in the whole world! But for now, I must go and see the world, so I must leave you behind yet again.”

Dear sweet Newt, you need only. . .

“Don’t try and talk me out of leaving. I must go. I bid you farewell!”

But Newt, you don’t under. . .

“I said farewell!” Newt asserted with exaggerated authority.

If it were possible for a system to cry, Mom would have.