Rolling (Minus the Stones)

     Tenet was not prepared for his assigned egg to let out a muffled beep from within the satchel, but managed to retain his calm exterior. The hyenas behind the two in the den of decay had not heard the petty sound, and their yowling continued as Tenet marched forward. He could have sworn eggs did not make noise, but he also could have sworn eggs did not need to be pampered via a series of specific steps before hatching. It must just be part of the strange egg’s stranger species.

     Eventually, the den of decay could no longer be heard. This came as a relief to Tenet’s sensitive ears, but the end of one journey began the start of another. The next thing on the list was to let the egg ‘stretch its metaphorical legs’, whatever that meant. Where exactly would he take the egg to stretch legs it lacks? Does this step mean roll it down a hill, or walk with it like he had already, or even simply set it in the grass and watch as it does absolutely nothing, as eggs do? He only had experience with the eggs of small birds prior to this, but remembered vividly that their shells were delicate. Fragile. Easy to crack open and drink. While this egg seemed much thicker due to its size, is it really stronger? As much as he didn’t want to keep it any longer than required, he didn’t want to accidentally kill the little creature he was stuck with. So, rolling it down a hill probably wouldn’t work. He doubted it could swim, either, and it certainly could not fly. So, what is there to do?

     Tenet supposed that he should look for noontime shelter and think about it in the meantime. The Veldt is rather unforgiving when it comes to the heat, and fried egg should not be on the menu any time soon.

. . .

     Under the relative safety of a friendly tree, Tenet took advantage of the soothing shade to gather his thoughts. Swimming and flying were out of the question, running would be a pointless waste of stamina in a dangerous environment, walking would make no sense since they had already walked so far and wide… clearly, rolling was the last option, despite its apparent risks. How far could an egg roll, and how fast, before whatever stopped it cracked it right open? Heaving a deep sigh, Tenet decided on what he should do to get the egg’s metaphorical legs moving. Rolling truly was the only option, he would just have to be extremely careful about it. Surely, there was a small hill around that lacked shell-crunching stones at the bottom that he could let the egg slide down?

     It took a few minutes of searching, but soon enough the kirunhound found a suitable spot for the egg to roll about. It was a little mound of terrain covered in the dried grass of the veldt that kept the ground from blowing away in the wind. The incline was smooth, and at the bottom was a comfortable ditch with no rocks, sticks, or other obstacles that would lead to the egg’s miniature journey ending in despair. Standing at the top of the mound, Tenet carefully withdrew the egg from its satchel nest and set it down in the grass. Then, with a gentle nudge, the egg rolled down on its side for a few seconds before slowing in the ditch, eventually coming to a complete stop. It remained there, of course, as eggs lack any limbs to do otherwise, as the grass around the two swayed gently in the winds.

     Tenet stood there, staring at the motionless egg, not sure what else he should have expected. Of course nothing happened afterward; it’s an egg. He sighed to himself, looking up at the cleared skies. It was just barely after noon after all the walking the two (well, really, the one, the egg certainly did not do any walking) had done since that morning. As a result, the sun was still beating down, barely moved from its place in the center of the cloudless sky. Tenet walked to the egg, which was still laid in the grass, and scooped it up in one arm, placing it in his satchel once more. He yearned for the shade of the tree nearby once more, to avoid the veldt’s desire to vanquish life itself. So, he sat himself down at the trunk of it and listened to the rustle of the branches, glancing down at the satchel. He was unsure if rolling for only a few seconds would appease the egg, but wanted to wait out the heat for at least a little while; no matter how thin one’s pelt, the heat will always be felt.

     After about half an hour of laying in the shaded grass, Tenet grew restless and rose to his feet, slinging the satchel over one shoulder. The heat was no better, but not particularly worse, either, so he decided it was time to set out before any predators caught notice of the open space and decided to go hunting. The last thing he wanted was to have the egg and himself turned into a healthy brunch special, so he left the safety of the tree and set off towards where the sun would set. Hopefully, he would find something of use on the way to a proper resting place.