Mud

Mud never got to know his family that well. As a hatchling, he knew they were poor, and he knew they couldn't afford to keep another mouth to feed. He was gone before he really knew what was happening, and suddenly he was no longer in his familiar Nature lair, but wandering among arid sand and rocks somewhere in Dragonhome.
He thought he was hallucinating when he heard the sound of song and celebration. In the distance, the merry band of travelers known as Haven Troupe were performing. Seeing a chance for shelter, somehow, Mud made it into the shade of their colorful tents and umbrellas. With dragons of all sizes passing in and out, small Mud had to duck and weave underneath their feet. He tried to catch the attention of any passerby, asking for a bit of treasure to put toward a drink of water. Not one of the Troupe's customers acknowledged him, leaving him tired, thirsty, and frustrated. But when he saw a few dancers approaching, fresh from their last show, he turned tail and dove underneath the nearest stage. He was terrified of being thrown out, not being a paying customer and all.
There the young hatchling hid, in the cool darkness of the cave that was the stage, all alone. Or so he thought. Minutes passed, and a gentle meow seemed to grow louder from behind him. Mud whirled around, eyes wide. A scruffy black cat with wide, sympathetic eyes loped toward him out of the darkness. Her posture elegant, poised, like the dancers up above. The frightened tundra, unsure of what to do, held completely still as the sleek cat sniffed him, then meowed again and began to rub her head against his snout affectionately. When she began to purr, Mud started to relax. He raised a paw with apprehension and gently, gently pet her back. She seemed to enjoy it, and turned and meowed back into the darkness from whence she came. Another cat appeared, this one a beautiful tabby. The two cats curled up beside the fluffy tundra and purred.
Suddenly, Mud didn't feel so alone.

Time has passed since then, and Mud and his cats are bonded. They are his helpers, his partners in crime. He trained his cats to weave amongst the passers-by, nabbing both treasure and gems from the unsuspecting customers. He keeps all three of them fed this way, and has made a sort of nest underneath that stage. He hasn't been found yet, but some of the dancers are getting suspicious of the meows that rise up from beneath their feet...