Good Afternoon, Miss Fuzzywalker
In Evercity, the day was as clear as it ever got. People were going about their business in the bustling streets. One of them was a young woman in a red dress trimmed with fur. She carried herself ramrod-straight with all the dignity and propriety of a high-class schoolmistress. With one hand, she held the thick fabric of her dress up to keep the hem out of puddles. With the other hand, she clutched a shepherd's crook as an ordinary lady might clutch an umbrella if she expected bad weather. The ends of the crook, one a hook and the other a pair of shears, stuck out on either side of her perpendicular to her spine and just as straight. The lower half of hr face held a prim, concentrated expression. The upper half was covered by a pair of goggles whose pink lenses gleamed as if polished meticulously. The entire outfit was topped by a rainbow woolen afro that bobbled with a kind of absurd dignity. Following in single file like a class of well-trained pupils was a small but eye-catching herd of alpacas that walked in prim unison like woolly soldiers. Their necks were straight as rulers and their backs were the same, though a closer look at their eyes would reveal an intelligence not gifted to many humans. Everyone who saw this odd promenade could not help but come away with the impression that, strange as they were, they knew precisely who they were, where they were going, and what they were doing.
