They arrived at a park on the northern edge of the inner city, far from the coffee shop, the beating heart of the festival centered around a small and lightly wooded expanse of green. The pink-pastel bunting failed to contain the pink-pastel clad revelers, most of whom were child-dominant families, creating a cacophony of screaming and mewling excitement that stung Nathan’s new canine ears.
It was hell, but this hell was something he was used to. The city lacked a beach, climbable mountains, or anything of historical note, so all they had was these overfunded parks and random festivals to waste on them. While the theme was new, as was the setting, the squabbling families and hordes of scampering children were nothing if not too familiar. Nathan, once again, regretted not insisting on a few more changes.
Thankfully, Nathan's mom asserted herself as chaperone, dragging his littlest sister off into the queue for face painting before the other adults could question it. There was a slight feigned reluctance to her voice, like looking after her was a burden, but it did little to mask her love of these events, and the naked fear her and the other adults had. Lydia was already starting to question concepts like the Easter Bunny, and it was only a matter of time until she stopped believing altogether. She was the youngest of their generation, of their hive of closely-bonded clan of relatives, and the second Lydia stopped believing there wouldn’t be another before their generation became ‘productive.’
Nathan’s dad grumbled, setting out the picnic with the aid of Travis and Chantelle, while the aunt sulked, hammering away on her phone, her eyes following her sister and niece as they shot away from the group. Nathan didn’t want to engage, but after he yawned she took that as an invitation.
"Your mom can’t hog Lydia all day.” His aunt complained. “I want to have some time with the kidlet too, especially when your cousins get here.”
“Well, I could assert myself,” Nathan grinned, “She would Love to see me lead her on the egg hunt, take a few photographs of us together, but - of course - that would mean you won’t get to do the egg hunt with her.”
His Aunt looked like he could kill him.
“That’s okay,” She smiled, forcefully. “You probably wanna mingle before the parade begins. Meet more mutants and, y’know.” She made a camp slick of her hands, like she was trying to dry off invisible moisture. Nathan almost woke Jake up, just to decipher what it meant. “You go run along, I’ll text you when your cousins get here.”
Nathan rolled his eyes, before walking off to one of the many churro stands.
The queue was awkward. Nathan stood out as both the only teen and the only fur amongst the rabble, and while parents tried to mask their kids' curiosity he still felt their eyes following him, the occasional yap of ‘doggie’ or vague whined clawing towards him. He pulled out of the queue after only a few minutes, pretending he had a call, before sliding away from the masses.
“Chrurros taste odd without the chocolate sauce anyway.” Nathan told himself.
There were other mutts about the place, mostly bunny boys, bunny girls, and bunny neuts, hidden amongst crowds of kids. They seemed to take the role of visitor information points, but had been subsumed into the role of entertainers, their faces weathered and dark. They shot each other occasional pained looks, sharing it with Nathan if their eyes met. Nathan shot a smile back, but pushed on by, not stopping, not joining them.
Regardless, as Nathan walked on he couldn’t escape the eyes, staring at him from all angles as families explained his existence to them. The oppressive patronizing attitude was nothing he hadn’t felt before, but being here, in a world of people like him he had thought (or hoped) that they could at least be better about it, that they would reduce him down so much. ‘No, I’m not STARING at you,’ he could hear them say, ‘I am ADMIRING you. Completely different. I see it as a sign of respect. Now, explain to me what you are again? Explain it to me and my family too, in simple terms my kids understand, but don’t patronize me. Take as long as you like. Take all day if you have to.’
Nathan shuddered, pulling out his phone so at least he wouldn’t have to shoot them a sympathetic smile. The city had produced a map of the venue online so it gave him something to look at, maybe plot a path less tread so that he could avoid the masses and wait for the picnic to finish. Unfortunately, the map was designed for cuteness, rather than readability, and was as useful as a chocolate fireguard.
As he emerged from his phone he began looking for cover, but found that there was very little. His best option was just leaving the park, bunking down literally anywhere else, and just enduring the wrath of his mother, but other options presented themselves. He could head back, seek solidarity with the bunny people and hope they could lead him to a safe place. That said, it's likely the attention would just become more acute as a collective.
Before him was a wall of canvas, a tent wide, low, and vast. It was no big-top, but it was at least colourful. He could see that the top was made of thin material, letting the light in, and the noise out, which was filled with the sound of conversation, lauger, life. It was hard to tell what it was on the map. He was near the wooded grove at the back of the park, that was where his family was likely to head next, but…
“Doggy, mommy!” A little voice called out, pointing at him. The kid was dragging his mother by the hem of her skirt, in Nathan’s direction. “Can I pet it?”
Not only was Nathan reduced to the point of being a mere object, but the child’s mother wasn’t even challenging it. She just nodded, smiling, staring at her child and not even acknowledging his personhood. As the kid swiped, he stepped back.
“Miss?” He said to the mother. She didn’t even acknowledge him. “I said Miss?” He stepped back again, waving a paw into her eye line. Again, it was like he was less a person, more a talking prop.The kid’s sticky hands made contact, making him retch. “Fuck, control your kid!” He said, yanking a leg away, the kid colliding with the ground. Still, the mother ignored him, picking up the child and walking off.
He considered the situation for a moment, trying to wipe the stickiness off with a leaf, but it was no use. Worse still, as he rounded a tent, looking for the bathroom he saw the mother again, talking to a cop, kid still in hand. Getting out the park or to his fellow furs, was either going to require sneaking through a wooded patch, or else retreating into the tent behind him.