From a Friend

     The Neopian Pound was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year (and yes, sadly, even on the Day of Giving). “Quiet,” wasn’t ever a word you’d use to describe the place – Neopia was an insomniac’s economy, after all, and time halted for no pet, whether they were placing Food Club bets, waiting at the Soup Kitchen, or playing a late-night game of Gormball.

     So of course, this applied to Rose, too.

     The Pound was a huge, sprawling building that towered high into the skies of the Neopian Plaza, so high you had to crane your neck to look at it properly. There was always construction going on, just to fit the sheer number of inhabitants they had coming in each week, and on clear days, you could usually spot a number of Shoyru builders swooping about the building, tools in hand. New bedrooms, more bathrooms, extra communal space, and of course expanding the library, because Rose was absolutely adamant that pets should be learning something useful during their stay here, even if it was the extended history of the Lost Desert, or what foods exactly the Esophagor liked to eat.

     There was always something to do, whether it be cooking or cleaning, breaking up arguments as to whose hairbrush or plushie belonged to who, the endless amount of paperwork to process new pets and adoption fees – those, she preferred to leave to Dr Death (a surprisingly good accountant, that one). She wasn’t the best with numbers and equations, working out how much they needed per adoption to be able to pay their utility fees and maybe install a games room, because no matter what you said about Dr Death, he wasn’t totally heartless, even if he was bad at showing it. No, Rose preferred to deal with the softer, more emotional things. Consoling a recently abandoned pet, or setting them up with a new outfit so they could look their best before going to a new home. Reading them stories or finding them a handful of toys so they could play with their roommates. It was the gentle touches she was good at, but she knew that this place would never really be the kind, happy place she wanted it to be.

     No matter how you looked at it, the Pound was a lonely place, somewhere to put the unwanted. Rose did her best not to think of it that way, of course – after all, they had a lot of happy success stories! And of course, there were always those who were just being sent to new homes through their Transfer program, but as much as it broke her heart to admit it, there were far more abandonments than there were adoptions. There had to be something she could do, to put smiles back on those poor pet’s faces.

     One afternoon, on one of her rare breaks, she sat down with a cup of coffee, staring idly out of the window (rainy, but not cold, which was always a refreshing change this time of year), and her gaze fell to the Petpet shop, just visible over the horizon. She pulled out a notebook and pen from her desk drawer, and began to scribble a letter, not quite sure how to begin, and decided to be honest.

     “I have a somewhat unusual request to ask of you, my dear…”

          The thing Rose liked most about Baelia was about how normal she was. Yes, she had the white hair, the ragged wings, and a rather fetching set of antennae, but she had none of the lofty airs and graces the other faeries put on. Her voice was small and polite, her disguise (a brown travelling cloak and sturdy boots) meant that she wasn’t getting mobbed by frantic pets asking for quests, and she’d actually deigned to respond to Rose’s letter, sent back with remarkable speed in pen and ink, delivered by a cheerful Buzzer. Illusen, Rose happened to know, would only accept written correspondence on leaves, freshly plucked, sent by hand raised Weewoos, and those tended to be in short supply around here. She sat in Rose’s office, sipping at the tea she’d been offered, with a thoughtful expression on her face.

     ‘It’s funny. No one’s ever asked me before. All those quests and no one ever questioned it.’

     ‘It’s all you’ve ever asked for,’ Rose pointed out. ‘And they have to go somewhere – you can’t be keeping them all.’

     Baelia gave a wistful sigh. ‘I’d love to – really, I would. It’s my dream, you know, to open a sanctuary for them. Kind of like this place, only for petpets, and to pass them on to loving homes, or if no one wants them, so they can just live out their lives freely.’

     ‘It sounds beautiful, even if it would be a lot of work.’

     ‘And a lot of money,’ she agreed. ‘As for what I do with them, well… I sell some to the Petpet shop, for a small price, or to other faeries who have specific requests; Angelpi are in fashion this season, so they’re really popular at the moment. There’s a few… other jobs, I pass them on to.’ Curiously, she ducked her head at this, so Rose didn’t press her. ‘But it’s enough to keep me afloat, and put what little I can towards building the sanctuary.’

     ‘Perhaps this could be another income stream for you, then?’ the Uni suggested. ‘I’ll have to speak to Dr Death, of course, to work it our figures wise, but this would be a great way to boost morale. Those poor pets have lost so much already – a petpet companion would keep them company while they wait for their forever home.’

     The Grey Faerie smiled. ‘Agreed, and it’s lovely to see them go to a good cause. If I remember correctly… I’ve had twenty-five quests return to me today, and I know I’ve promised five of those to the Petpet shop, but those twenty should be enough to get you started, right?’

     ‘Absolutely. Give me a few hours to speak to Dr Death, but I’ll let you know by the end of the week at latest.’

     The two grinned at each other, and in that moment, the room seemed radiant. “Grey,” seemed to be the wrong word for Baelia right now.

          Dr Death was surprisingly much easier to convince than she’d thought – he’d immediately agreed about it being a great morale boosting exercise, and the fact that it was going to be bringing a lot more traffic into the Pound didn’t hurt at all. If people weren’t enthralled by the pets, they could be drawn in with an interesting petpet. Unfortunately, they could only afford to pay Baelia 500 NP a go for each petpet she bought them (they were a charity, after all), but the faerie thanked them warmly for that.

     ‘It’s enough,’ she explained, later that night, her voice low as she stood on the back doorstep of the Pound, wrapped once again in her cloak. ‘I’ve got a house here anyway, so the weather’s usually good and my clothes are warm enough. I don’t need much, but these little guys do.’

     She glanced down at the Hopso asleep in her arms, and gently passed it over to Rose. Behind her, in the small courtyard that served as the drop off point for all deliveries to the building, a large carriage stood, deliberately designed to look like one of those who dropped off the food supplies once a week, pulled by a strong pair of Unis Rose had roused from their beds and sworn to secrecy, with the promise that they would be the first to receive their new companions. In the back of the carriage, nineteen more travelling crates were piled up, each holding a happily dreaming petpet.

     ‘Just… one more thing?’ The Pink Uni glanced at Baelia, whose pale eyes looked worried. ‘Please don’t tell anyone that I’m doing this. I’m fairly sure I’m not supposed to – the Faerie Code and all that, only help those who give something in return – and I don’t need the attention. I just want to fly under the radar until I get back on my feet. So to speak.’

     ‘Of course not. You’re just the latest in a long series of very kind anonymous donors,’ Rose said with a wink.

     ‘Send me a message when you’re next ready to drop off another batch, and I’ll make sure no one’s around.’ She handed Baelia the heavy bag of coins, which she stashed in an inside pocket of her cloak. ‘Take care, my dear.’

     ‘You too. I’ll see you soon.’ The young faerie slipped away into the night, soon swallowed up by the shadows. After freeing her two helpers from the cart, and allowing them first choice of petpet, she took the remaining ones inside. The other benefit to doing the softer jobs in the Pound was that she knew exactly who had been here the longest. Oh, they all put on a brave face, but it was lonely, no matter how nice she tried to make it. But maybe this would help.

     She stopped outside a room that held four pets inside – all Lupes that had been here several years, and had banded together to form their own little family. Quietly, she opened the door, making sure that all four pets inside were asleep, and deposited a petpet on the end of each of their beds. The little group of Warfs barked softly in surprise, but obediently hushed when told to. She only had to hope that they wouldn’t chew the note Baelia had tucked into their collars.

     “From a friend. Don’t give up hope. The good times are coming.”

      The End.