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Bumble really is a bumbler.\nTeach him to shake and he only tilts his head and stares at you. Teach him his name and it takes three or four tries before he slowly looks up. No matter who comes to feed him, he wags his tail like a little oar, then buries his face in his food without a care in the world, sometimes tipping headfirst into the bowl. As though he'd been born a little slow.\nIt was market day. Chasing a butterfly, Bumble stumbled his way into the thick of the crowd. By the time he came to his senses, the butterfly was long gone, every smell around him was strange, and the way back had been trampled over by too many feet.\nBumble was dumb. He couldn't even tell which way home was, so he tried it the dumbest way: wrong turn, double back, another wrong turn, double back again. The sun sank from high above the Verdant Tavern to the line where the lake met the hills. Bumble plodded past the flower boats, past a stone bridge he had never seen, past the crowds coming and going.\nAfter dark, the door of his owner's house was suddenly nudged open. A filthy little ball of fur came barreling in and threw itself at him, tail wagging faster than ever before.