My name is Sullen, though it doesn't particularly fit
me. It's my name mainly because I'm a Vullard, and Vullards are supposedly sullen
by nature. It's an awfully rash stereotype and, like most generalisations, is
untrue. I'd like to say I have a happy nature, but at the moment I'm not happy
at all. But then, neither are the Zebies, and they're generally labeled as being
continuously joyous and playful. So there.
My home is--or was--in Meridell, in Ye Olde Petpet
Shoppe. I was one of the younger petpets kept in the back pen, not yet old enough
to be given a new home. But I was content with that. I had three good friends:
a Turtum named Misty, a Symol named Chubs, and a Whinny named Fillee. I didn't
particularly care much for the company of other Vullards. Let's just say that
while generalisations are mostly untrue, I can't say that they aren't well founded.
Chubs, Fillee, Misty, and I were pretty much
carefree. We knew that we would someday be separated to go to new homes with
new owners, but we were all right with that. When the Darigan Citadel floated
menacingly over Meridell, we didn't find it threatening. We found it infinitely
fascinating.
One of our favourite games was to make up stories
about what it was and why it was there. Fillee would make stories about a beautiful
Ixi princess who was trapped there, waiting for a brave knight to come and rescue
her. Chubs would speak of an evil magician who lived in the Citadel, who would
block out the Sun from Meridell, making all of the crops wither and die. And
I, utterly unaware of the irony, would tell stories about a vast dark army housed
in it, waiting till the time was right to come down and make war on Meridell.
Misty, not very good at making up stories herself, would just sit and listen
with wide eyes. Traditionally, we would then play at rescuing the princess,
defeating the evil magician, or single-handedly stopping the entire army.
We were a bit scared when the first smoke
began to rise over the distant hills, just beyond Meri Acres Farms. But we soon
decided that it was too little to be a fire, and even if it were one it could
never reach us before it got put out. We weren't even shaken when the battle
first rounded the hill, and we saw pets fighting with all kinds of weapons:
swords, maces, frost cannons, spark shooters, you name it. To us it was still
some sort of a jolly game, and we all found sticks and playfully began whacking
each other with them as though they were swords.
It was then that my eye fell upon a particular
pair fighting: a Shoyru and what looked to be a mutated Skeith. I saw a winged
Moehog sneak up behind the Shoyru and hit it with its sword. The Shoyru went
down. And stayed down.
I lowered my stick/sword and stood perfectly
still, watching in amazement. I mentally willed the Shoyru to get back up and
hit that Moehog right back, but it never did. Misty succeeded in whacking me
several times before she realised that something was definitely wrong. She asked
me what was up. I couldn't speak. With a lump in my throat I pointed to the
motionless form of the Shoyru. Chubs and Fillee came up behind us. It was then
we finally realised that this was no longer a game.
***
Time passed. A few more motionless lumps gathered on the hill. We were all
relieved to see that most of the pets ran away rather than becoming little spots
near the horizon, but one unmoving form there was one too many for our liking.
The wild Crokabeks that traveled the land picking up gossip filled us in bit
by bit on what the war was about, more or less. Maybe we were naive, but neither
my group of friends nor any of the other young petpets thought that a floating
gold ball was worth any number of motionless lumps.
We had hoped that the fighting would end by Christmas
Eve. It didn't seem right that little motionless lumps should gather on the
Day of Giving. But it didn't, and they did. The Crokabeks told us some thought
of it as giving a “present" to the country they served. Unwillingly, I
thought about “returning" the little unmoving dots for something I really
wanted. I shared the thought with my friends and we had a bittersweet laugh.
Such was our Wartime Christmas.
The following day, there was no more fighting
on the hills. The Crokabeks came by and asked us why we were smiling.
"Because the war is over," said Fillee.
"Because there will be no more fighting,"
said Chubs.
"Because there will be no more fear,"
said Misty.
"Because there will be no more motionless
lumps on the hillsides," I said. Everyone nodded.
The Crokabeks shook their heads. “No, no, no!"
they said. “Meridell has lost! We have lost! It is all over. The Orb
will soon be gone, and then we will starve."
"There will be no more motionless lumps
on the hillsides," I repeated.
The Crokabeks shook their heads again. “Soon
there will be motionless lumps on the streets."
***
Soon afterward the Ixi who ran Ye Olde Petpet Shoppe put all of us petpets
- including the ones who would normally be too young to go to a new home - up
for sale. The Crokabeks said it was because she was hoping that we would be
taken to safer places. But few dared venture out to Ye Olde Petpet Shoppe. In
the end, Chubs got a new owner on the last day possible before it happened.
Misty, Fillee, and I stayed behind to witness it
There was little warning before Darigan's troops
came marching through the streets, destroying everything in their paths. All
of the petpets at Ye Olde Petpet Shoppe ran to hide inside the barn. The army
fired frost cannons into the walls, knocking them down around us, and we had
to run still further as a rouge Skeith advanced into the rubble.
Misty, being a Turtum (the only Turtum who hadn't
managed to find a home), could not run fast enough. Fillee, seeing her friend
was in danger, rushed back as the Skeith approached the little Turtum. She butted
her head into the Skeith in an attempt to knock him away. But, of course, the
Skeith was far too big and she ended up just bouncing off of him. Noticing her,
he swung around and hit her with an enormous mace. She lay there, and the Skeith
licked his lips.
Not able to stand it any more, I flew straight
at the Skeith, attacking his vulnerable eyes with my talons. Shrieking in pain,
he swung his mace around blindly. It ended up missed me entirely, though it
hit him in the sides a few times. After he somehow managed to get his mace to
smash his own foot, he decided that a fast snack wasn't worth it and hobbled
off to join the rest of the troops.
Misty was standing, shaking like crazy and staring
at Fillee. But at least she was moving. Fillee, however, wasn't. She
lay flat on the ground, a dark red fluid pooling around her. A motionless lump
on the hillside.
"Misty," I whispered.
"Yes?"
"It has to stop. Somehow it all has
to stop. It won't be over when Darigan gets the Orb. It won't be over if Meridell
gets it back. It won't be over until both sides get what they want. And if that
isn't possible..."
"There will always be motionless lumps on
the hillside," Misty finished. I nodded.
For a second, I thought I heard a small groaning
sound from Fillee. I looked at her, and my heart leapt as I saw her head move
ever so slightly, as though nodding in agreement.
The End
Author's Note: This piece is dedicated to the citizens of Meridell. May
cooler heads prevail and help this story have a happy ending. | 
