Rita
Sleet lumbered through the streets of the Scorpion Den, the thick spikes along his neck and tail rattling with every step. He had come to the Sandwing kingdom in search of prickly pears, intending to turn them into some kind of treat for the dragonets at home, and found himself wandering the marketplace, dark eyes sliding along the stalls lining the streets, his belongings tucked firmly under one wing to ward off wandering talons. 
The hybrid had yet to find anything interesting or valuable enough to bring home, but he wanted to keep trying; Sleet always tried to bring back souvenirs when he was gone for long periods of time.
Wendy
The Nightwing heaved and panted, fanning himself to rid himself of the oppressive heat. *Moons,* It was always so hot here, but he always managed to sell the most around these parts, so sacrifices were needed. 
He always kept a keen eye out for anyone particularly curious or bored looking, or that he otherwise thought would be a great victim to sell to.
Seeing Sleet poking around, he grinned and called out to him. 
"You there, sir! The icewing-ey mudwing-ey looking fellow. You a fan of the unique and bizarre?"
Rita
He paused, turning his head to face the nightwing. Odd; there weren't many around the desert. Still, he had come to find a souvenir or two, and what better to intrigue a dragonet with than something 'unique and bizarre?' Sleet ambled over, peering over the smaller dragon to try and catch a glimpse of whatever he was selling. In the Scorpion Den, Sleet had quickly learned that it could be anything from homemade poisons to rare and exotic artifacts, and he'd rather not be caught off guard by the former.
"What kind?" He grunted, shifting his gaze back to the merchant.
Wendy
His grin widened, and he let himself bask in the feeling of success that came with baiting someone into another purchase.
"Oddities! Old tomes, taxidermied animals, dragon bones- for 'scientific study', of course- dragon scales, neutralized rainwing venom, you name it."
Rita
Ah. He was one of *Those.* The dragons with no respect for the lives and bodies of the deceased, willing to scrounge and sell whatever they could get their claws on for a meager pile of gold. Sleet was far from a saint himself, but even he wouldn't go as far as to desecrate the dead.
Still, he'd poke his nose around, see if anything stood out against the rather unsettling assortment of parts. He noted the growing grin of the merchant wryly, but that was quickly forgotten when he focused on the goods for sale.
He felt his heart skip when he laid eyes on the small- so, so *Impossibly* Small- egg, put on display with the rest of the macabre. For a moment, Sleet was sure he was just imagining it- surely, not even Scorpion Den dealers would sell an *Egg?* But no, the longer he looked, the more sure he was. That was a tiny dragon egg being being sold as carelessly as one would offer a glittering stone. 
"You sell eggs?" He growled, claws digging into the sand as he reigned in his urge to lunge. *"Dragon* Eggs?"
Wendy
"Not *Usually.* That one," He grabbed the box the small egg rested in- a messy affair compromised of wood and not much for padding and protection spare a smattering of dry hay here and there- and placed it on the flattest surface he could find that was near the large hybrid. "Is a special case, you see. Its parents handed it off to me after seeing it's... Smallness, and apparently having some sort of prophetic vision about the dragonet inside being mal-formed if it were to ever hatch at all. You ask *Me,* I think it's a dud." He turned to consult a journal of sorts. "I mean, what did they expect? I can excuse two tribes mingling, but *Four*? It's a miracle it was laid in the first place..." 
The last sentence was muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages, keen on finding something.