This story is a sequel to The Field (Issue #108), you might want to read
it to fully understand the story.
It's hard to think of your best friend destroying the
thing you love most in the world. I try not to think about it, but I know Berrik
is out there with the rest of them destroying my beloved field. My haven is
being destroyed more and more every second. I can't do anything expect to sit
around the house with my confused and jumbled brain. Nothing can sort itself
out now, nothing makes sense. A best friend destroying a treasure, a blue Kau
born into a family of shadowed Kaus, and always being constantly teased. I always
hear the elders whispering life isn't fair, and I'd have to agree. I sit alone
in my room a stack of book on the shelf over my bed. I must have read them all
a million times. A new book can allow you to escape for a couple of hours. An
old book with a memorized plot doesn't work the same way; it could let you escape
for an hour or so but then your mind wanders to the things you don't want to
"Pri!" a voice calls my name from downstairs.
I jump to my hooves excitedly, it's my grandmother. I am not allowed to visit
her, so she must come and visit me. She's such a relief from the prison of my
home and mind. I stampede down the stairs to the living room where my grandmother
is sitting in an ancient red chair, it's been in my family for generations.
I jump into the chair next to her and smile,
"Hey Grandmother! I'm glad you came."
"I am too. I think it's rubbish that your father
locks you up for going into the woods." My grandmother says. "The woods of Farmington
aren't dangerous if you know the right paths to take."
"I know the paths."
"There are more paths hidden in the woods than
ones worn by the hooves and paws of many." My grandmother tells me. I love the
way my grandmother can talk in riddles, but when I don't understand the riddles;
it's a bit annoying.
"What do you mean?" I ask and a grin spreads
across my grandmother's face. I moan knowing I'll have to figure out this riddle
on my own. At least it will give me something to think about while I am a prisoner.
"Shall we make lunch?" my grandmother asks and
she slides to her hooves. She walks toward the kitchen, I follow closely behind.
My grandmother is an excellent cook, the second best in all of Farmington. No
one can beat Mrs. Baker's home-made pies. My grandmother doesn't mind being
second best, after all Mrs. Baker is her best friend. I didn't inherit my grandmother's
cooking skills, I can barely make toast. "Have you seen young Berrik today?"
"It's not his fault, Pri," my grandmother says
as she pulls on her apron. "Not only did he not have a choice in the matter
of assisting us, he had no idea how much the field meant to you."
"He wouldn't understand."
"You'd be amazed at what a best friend can understand."
"Does Mrs. Baker know how much you liked to
sit in a field?"
"I've known Lily my whole life, there isn't
much she doesn't know about me."
"Oh." There is plenty Berrik doesn't know about
me, and I wouldn't dare tell anyone, even my best friend. At the same time,
I know there a lot I don't know about Berrik. He'll never talk about his past,
to anyone. I think Mrs. Baker is the only one in Farmington that knows the truth.
There are plenty of rumors about how his past, and I think they are all ludicrous.
"You've only known Berrik a couple of years,
you can't know a pet completely in a couple of years. It takes time."
"I guess, you're right," I say as I collapse
into a chair at the kitchen table. I begin to fiddle with the salt and pepper
shakers, there is nothing else to do. My grandmother hums a rather odd song
as she prepares lunch.
"What are you humming?" I ask.
"An ancient Mortog song. Maverick was singing
it all last night, and I couldn't help but fall in love with it." My grandmother
answers. I smile, I love how my grandmother can find the most extraordinary
things from this that always seem so simple to everyone else. Maverick was a
Mortog that lived in the pond in front of my grandmother's cottage. Tons of
Mortogs have made their homes in front of my grandparent's cottage. They aren't
her pets, just her neighbors. My grandfather built a wooden bench in front of
the pond, where my grandmother could sit for hours listening, watching, talking,
and singing with the Mortogs. I think a Mortog's song sounds more like a series
of croaks, than an actual song. My grandmother thinks the Mortogs are the best
singers in all of Neopia, I'd have to disagree the Beekadoodles are the best.
Beekadoodles sew up emotions and ideas into one majestic song, that flows so
beautifully it could never be recreated by a simple hum. A simple hum isn't
worthy of songs that Beekadoodles create. The screen door to the kitchen opens
and a dirty yellow Gelert appears. He is wearing a torn, old red bandanna tied
on his head and dark gloves on his paws. He pulls off his black, tough gloves
as he enters the kitchen.
"Hello Berrik!" My grandmother greets his him
with a massive smile. "How's the work going, my dear?"
"Just fine," Berrik replies as he sets his gloves
on the counter and walks to the sink to wash his paws.
"Would you care for a drink? I made some lemonade
this morning. I brought it over from my cottage."
"I'd love some, thanks!" Berrik replies politely
and takes a seat next to me.
"Would you like some, too, Pri?"
"Sure," I smile weakly. My grandmother glides
across the kitchen and whips out two glasses. She places them in front of us
and grabs the glass pitcher from the ice box. I watch as the yellow liquid is
sloshes into my glass and I took a huge sip, I love lemonade, especially my
grandmother's. I've heard Mrs. Baker's lemonade is better, but I highly doubt
anything could be better than this. "Thank you."
"Thanks!" Berrik adds as he takes a sip.
"Oh Berrik! I'm sorry to keep you waiting for
taking the lunch out the workers, I just need to get something out of the pantry.
You don't mind waiting, do you?"
"Of course not," Berrik replies. My grandmother
nods a smile as she glides out of the room. It seems my grandmother can do anything
with such ease and grace. Once my grandmother is gone, Berrik asks, "How's grounding?"
"Not too bad," I lie, even though it is absolute
"Are you okay?" Berrik questions, he must have
sensed the depression in my voice.
"I am just fine."
"Dung! Why are you lying to me, Pri?" Berrik
exclaims, "We are best friends, I think I can tell when you are not happy. You
might be able to fool everyone else, but not me. Are you going to tell me what's
wrong or what?" Berrik hates when others close him off, it always brings out
the worse in him. I think it has something to do with his past, but I wouldn't
know he hasn't told me about his past, so why should I tell him about my problems.
"Nothing, Berrik!" I declare loudly.
"You were always an awful liar, Pri," Berrik
declares loudly and dives to his paws. He grabs his gloves off the counter and
pushes open the screen door. "Tell your grandmother, that I am going to wait
for her outside." He disappears outside with a slam of the door. My grandmother
appears clutching goods from the pantry in her hooves.
"What happened?" She asks.
"Berrik is mad at me," I sigh.
"You wouldn't understand," I answer.
"If you don't give a someone a chance to understand,
they never will." My grandmother advises me. I storm out of the kitchen without
a word. I am sick of advice, losing gifts, angry best friends, and not belonging.
As always there is little I can do, because no one understands.
The next day, Berrik appears in the kitchen
to pick up the meals for the workers. My grandmother wasn't feeling well this
morning so she put me in charge of making the lunches for all that were helping
my father and brother plant the new apple trees, in the process destroy my haven.
It's awkward, we don't know what to say to each other. I hate silence, especially
when someone is mad at you silence. Nothing can be worse, I'd rather have Berrik
laugh in my face over my attachment to a field than to be angry with me the
rest of my life. I want to say something, but my mouth is dry and empty. I finally
spit out the words,
"I'm sorry," Berrik blinks and replies, "Will
you talk to me?"
"You'll think it's dumb."
"No, I won't."
"Dumber than a Spardel," I add.
"Spardels aren't as dumb as everyone believes
them to be. That's beside the point, I promise I won't think it's stupid."
"I promise," he vows.
I stare into his eyes for a minute before I whisper,
"I'm just sad to watch the field go."
"Why? It's just a field," Berrik answers rather
"It wasn't just a field to me. It was my place,
my own place. The one place in the universe where everything seemed to make
sense," I admit and look at Berrik just waiting for him to burst into laughter.
He doesn't laugh; he calmly replies,
"It's hurts to watch my best friend destroy
something of my own," I add.
"I didn't know."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Berrik asks.
"I figured you wouldn't understand."
"You figured wrong."
Berrik thinks for a second, the fur of his golden
brown furrowed. "I want to take you some where."
"I'm grounded," I remind him softly.
"You get off tomorrow, remember?"
"You think I could forget?" I spent hours sitting
in front of my clock watching it slowly tick away the time, waiting for my punishment
to be up and to get out of the house.
"Meet me at Mrs. Baker's house tomorrow?" It
always feels odd when Berrik refers to his home as Mrs. Baker's house. It is
just as much his as it is hers.
"Right after morning chores."
"I'll be there."
"Remember to take the road, not the woods. We
don't want you to end up grounded again."
"All right," I agree. I don't want to go to
Berrik's house by the woods, because it would mean passing by the field that
The morning of freedom had finally come, I awoke
early and dashed outside excited. I breathed in the morning, fresh air happily
and danced through my chores. I quickly fed the petpets the last of my chores,
and skipped down the road. I arrived at Berrik's house earlier than I expected,
Mrs. Baker's whisked me into the kitchen. She was making her famous omelettes,
some people say Tyrannia has the best omelettes in the world, but they've never
tasted Mrs. Baker's. Although I had already eaten, I disposed of a Sausage Omelette
with ease, no one can ever seem to turn down anything cooked by Mrs. Baker.
Berrik arrived after finishing his chores and whisked me outside. He grabbed
my hoof and began to drag me along toward the direction of Baker Woods. No one
outside of the Bakers and Berrik's go into these woods, rumors say it's haunted.
I highly doubt that, I just think everyone knows that the Baker's own the property
and don't want to get in trouble for trespassing. He stops on the edge of woods
and drops my hoof,
"Berrik, what is it? Why did we stop?" I question.
He stares at me for a second, leans in close and whispers,
"Try and keep up." With those words Berrik took
off into a sprint. I took off awkwardly after him, Berrik was the fastest runner
in all of Farmington and I was sure I was the slowest. I galloped after him,
making sure he didn't get out too much ahead of me through the woods. I noticed
as we ran that we weren't running on an established trail worn by the hooves
and paws of many. It seemed we were running in circles, till I noticed something.
There were pink lilies sprouting in the ground of Baker Woods. Every couple
of meters I would spot another one then another. It seemed rather odd to spot
patches of pink lilies in this area, they are native to the woods of Farmington.
I followed him as we ran, he stopped suddenly and I skidded next to him.
"Why did we stop?" I asked looking around the
"Close your eyes," Berrik instructed.
"Just do it."
"Fine," I sighed as my eyes fluttered shut.
I could only see darkness as Berrik began to lead me slowly through the woods
we hadn't been walking more than ten second when he whispered for me to open
my eyes. I snapped my eyes open to find myself in the middle of a clearing in
the woods. The circular clearing was outlined with a ring of pink lilies and
a couple of leafy benches and a table sat in the center.
"Oh, Berrik," I whispered in awe. The lime turf
began to slowly way back and forth with the breeze. I could hear a couple of
Beekadoodles singing majestic songs in the woods.
"Mrs. Baker and your grandmother used to come
here all the time when they were younger, she can't come here too much longer
because of her condition. I know she'd want this place passed on to someone
special, so I chose you. Do you like it?" Berrik informs me.
"How couldn't I like, it's gorgeous!" I gushed
excitedly, it was a dream come true. I didn't have to worry about Seth, Jett,
or my Father finding me, this place was truly my haven. I could be safe and
alone here. "Did you say my grandmother used to come here?"
"Yes, she even helped Mrs. Baker plant the lilies
to mark the trail and the ring of flowers you see there. Lilies are Mrs. Bakers
favorite because of her name." It had suddenly clicked, Lily Baker. It made
perfect sense, I knew why my grandmother was speaking in riddles in the kitchen
she must have some how knew that Berrik would bring me here. It sometimes amazes
me how much my grandmother truly knows. "Mrs. Baker's grandfather built those
benches and table many years ago, it's still as sturdy at the day it was built.
Mrs. Baker used to take me out here when I was a pup, to play. I can't come
out here as much as I want to because of account of all the chores and taking
care of the estate. I really want someone to enjoy it, and I knew you would,
"It's amazing," I whisper, it still feel like
I am in a dream.
"I knew you'd like it," Berrik adds with a goofy
"Thanks," I smile and scan the area watching
the leaves of the trees shake and the grass sway slowly.
"Anytime," Berrik smiles as he walks toward
the woods. "Just follow the lilies out of the woods, it'll lead you right back
to where we started." I smile and watch Berrik disappeared into the trees. I
cannot believe that a beautiful treasure such as this field has been sitting
in Farmington, all along and I've known about it. I'm glad Berrik decided to
bring me here, I'm even more glad that I have a new place to escape the torments
of everyday life. I know I'll never forget my old field and all it's given me,
I think to think of it is as a good novel from my bookshelf over my bed. Once
you are finished reading it you will never forget it, but it comes a time when
you just have to move on to the sequel.
To the many treasures, that are just waiting to be discovered in the small
town of Farmington.
Author's Note: Feel free to contact me with any comments you may have
about my stories and of course, may the Borovan be with you!