"Amyraea, trust me, this is for your own good." The girl,
perhaps in her early teens, stared down at the Zafara who stood at her side.
She didn't sound convinced by her own words, and swiftly passed a hand over
her eyes, brushing away unbidden tears.
The little pet, usually so bright and cheerful,
would not meet her owner's eyes; even her disco coat seemed to have lost light
and lustre. "I thought you'd never leave me." It was almost an accusation.
Her owner shrugged helplessly, uncomfortable.
"Amy, you know I've been busy. I just can't take care of you, anymore. I need
to move on, and so do you." She clenched her fists tightly, almost fiercely.
"And I want you to have the best life you can."
Amyraea did remember, all too well, her friend's
long periods of absence; those long hungry nights spent waited sleeplessly for
the sound of a key in the door of their little cottage. And lately, the visits
had been less and less frequent; the girl didn't seem to have time to play with
her anymore. Their time together consisted of a walk to the soup kitchen, and
lately, not even that.
Still, she refused to be convinced. "You're my
owner... I need you!"
The girl shook her head sadly. "No, Amy. I love
you; that's why I want you to get a better owner, who will take care of you."
She knelt at the little Zafara's side, arms extended to hold her; Amyraea turned
away, hoping against hope that if she refused to say goodbye, her owner would
not go. The girl sighed, and straightened, handing a small, heavy sack that
clinked metallically to the Techo warden. She did not look down at Amyraea,
who clung piteously to her legs, but merely detached the pet before hurrying
away.
Amyraea's blue eyes widened with shock when the
girl did not look back, tell her that it was all just a horrible, tasteless
joke. "Don't leave me!"
People passed between them, almost obscuring
her owner from sight.
"Oh, please..."
And in a moment, she was gone entirely.
"Nooooooo!"
Amyraea screamed wordless despair, huddled there
on that cold, dank floor, until her throat ached; and she could only sob brokenly,
choking on the hot tears that leaked from her eyes; and finally fell asleep,
there, before the wooden desk of the pound.
Hours later, Rose discovered her
there, a little broken heap with sodden fur and eyes closed to the misery of
her life. She took pity on the smaller pet, and moved her gently onto a woven
mat, behind the cold steel bars.
***
Amyraea awoke, hungry and sore, wondering why she was lying on the floor. Had
she slipped off her heart-shaped bed? She called out, expecting her owner to
come to her side, but no reply followed.
It was only then that she rubbed sleep from her
eyes with awkward paws, and recalled where she was. And why she had been abandoned
there...
This thought was enough to evoke a new round
of sobs from her; this time, however, she found a course-furred paw clamped
none too gently over her mouth, and stared up into the face of an old Mynci.
"Yew shut yer trap!"
She fell silent, fearing him, but her small body
shook with suppressed emotion.
Half an hour later, a bowl of steaming gruel
was plunked in front of her. She turned her head away, revolted by the hot,
grey sludge-like mass. Rose paused by her cell, and pushed the food closer with
a forehoof. "Come on, love, you need to eat. The pound is opening soon, and
you're so scrawny the adopters will think we mistreat you."
Amyraea put her face in her paws, and ignored
the advice, hardly noticing when her less-picky Lupe cellmate wolfed the rapidly-cooling
gruel down.
But she found that she couldn't hide forever;
half an hour later, the first of the prospective adopters drifted into the pound.
She would have been happier if they had let her alone, her dulled and faded
fur reflecting her mood, but no; they had to shine a light full in her face,
and look her over, as if she was an item to be bought or sold at a moment's
notice. That wasn't a comfortable thought, especially when she realised the
truth in it.
A blue Shoyru, noticing her unease, nudged her
with a wingtip. "Smile, and get out of the shadows. They won't ogle so if they
can really see you to begin with."
She realised the sense in his advice and complied,
though her 'smile' would have looked rather forced if the passers-by had cared
to notice.
Ten minutes and at least a year later - or so
it felt to Amyraea - a girl in her late teens stopped by her cell to read her
stats card as so many others had. "Hmm... painted, and only 150 Neopoints. I'll
take her." This last was directed to Rose, who nodded, and handed the adopter
a key in return for the money.
As the older girl snapped a leash onto her collar,
Amyraea chanced a glance at her new owner. She was pretty enough, but her gaze
lacked compassion, even interest. Only greed and a sense of luck in finding
a painted pet were reflected in those brown eyes.
Amyraea shuddered and stayed at the full length
of the confining leash. Her owner did not notice, or perhaps did not care.
She didn't have to walk far; her owner dragged
her down a side street near the soup kitchen, stopping by a dingy white house.
Unlocking the door, she tossed Amyraea in by the scruff of her neck, and shut
the door after her.
Amyraea scrambled to her feet, feelings injured
far more seriously than her body, just in time to hear the lock click.
And as she stared at the heavy wood that blocked
her only escape, she was once again in the prison of the Pound.
***
Amyraea realised, a week later, that her owner would not return.
She wasn't sure what had happened; perhaps, the
girl had been excluded from Neopia for breaking some rule. What rule? The little
Zafara couldn't say.
It was so, so hard to think of anything for long,
to concentrate at all, when she hadn't eaten in so long...
Her body had given up complaining, she supposed.
She wouldn't die, but it seemed that she would not eat, either. Thinking about
it was futile.
But her love-starved heart did not follow the
same logic.
She dragged herself up onto a windowsill, to
watch the people pass, unaware of the little observer who watched loyally for
the one she needed. This, too, was futile, but - what else was there to do?
A family step suddenly sounded on the walk; the
gate closed quietly behind someone entering, and its echoes resounded in her
heart. She looked suddenly up, and caught sight of a familiar face in the window;
that of her owner.
She sprang up; almost slipping off the windowsill,
calling out hoarsely to the girl who watched. In that moment, she forgot her
mistreatment, forgot that she herself had been forgotten in her joy at seeing
a familiar face.
The girl gave her a mere glance, before turning
and walked resolutely away.
And the gate slammed shut with a
certain finality that jarred through Amyraea's heart.
The End
At the time of writing, no pet called Amyraea exists, but her
story is that of thousands of other Neopets. It is dedicated to them; the pets
of all those who have left Neopia. | 
