On the Way

     Despite the fact that she lived in a nice house on Catberry Drive, Chatka was looking forward immensely to the monetary prize. Her owner didn't believe in wasting money for anything; Chatka and her sister, Yula, a Striped Poogle, were not accustomed to pocket money. But if and when she won this, it would be hers and hers alone. Even her owner was willing to admit that.

     The wind tossed the fur around her ears gently about, and the grass beneath her feet was cloud-soft. Neat, comfortable brick houses lined the street she was on. Chatka enjoyed the scenery as she walked, sorting everything mentally, for she knew her neighborhood and the surrounding ones fairly well. To the right, down the quiet street with all the trees, was where her friend Anita lived. Chatka had the address well memorized. 2361 Faerie Drive. It would not be easy to forget; they'd known one another since early childhood, and many of her happiest moments had passed at that pleasant home.

     Although that, in turn, reminded Chatka of the street's more problematic associations, and she frowned. Things had been changing lately between her and Anita. Riessa had moved to Faerie Drive the previous year, and gradually, oh so gradually, the Shoyru that had long been Chatka's dearest friend began to desert her for the flashy Gelert Princess. Riessa had everything. A beautiful Neohome, more petpets than she could count, and very rich owner. It wasn't Anita's fault, either; she was doing all she could to pick up the threads of their former relationship and weave them into something substantial once again. Whatever Riessa was attempting to do with her, Anita was nice.

     Suddenly Chatka's paw hit something soft, and she looked down, surprised and annoyed in equal proportions.

     It was all she could do to stop herself giving an exclamation of surprise.

     At her feet cringed a tiny Faerie Cybunny, gazing up at her with the roundest and most fearful eyes Chatka had ever seen. She felt about a third of the aggravation melting away, though she still thought it was unfair for fate to spoil her perfect morning to a perfect day like this. Why it was spoiling her mood, Chatka was at a complete loss to say, but there was simply no denying the fact.

     "What are you doing, sitting there like that?" she snapped. "Anyone could have stepped on you. Someone could have tripped and hurt themselves badly."

          The Cybunny drew back further, her fluffy ears pulled back flat, blue eyes utterly, helplessly scared.

     Chatka sighed. She had expected at least some sort of harsh rebuke, and in a peculiar way she'd been looking forward to the verbal sparring. Apparently this Cybunny wasn't the type that liked to talk very much. All the same, she felt that it would be a mark on her dignity to eat her words and continue on her merry way to Neoschool. "Do I at least get an apology?"

     "I - I'm sorry," whispered the Cybunny.

     Something touched the Wocky. Perhaps it was the desperate note in the pathetic bundle of fur's voice; perhaps it was the cruel truth that stared up out of those huge eyes. But whatever it was, she felt that she could not let this moment slide. Something about it was special, necessary. "It's okay," she said more placidly. "What's your name? Why are you out here all alone?"

     "R-rosemary," she stammered.

     Given the circumstances, Chatka decided that it would be most practical to reiterate her second question. "But what are you doing alone on the streets?"

     "I'm really sorry." Rosemary's voice was so quiet that Chatka had to lean forward to understand her words.

     "There's nothing to be sorry for," Chatka said gently, crouching down to the Cybunny's level and taking one of her paws in her own. "It's fine, everything will be fine. Just tell me where you live, and we can take you back to your owner -"

     To her dismay, Chatka saw that an angry tear was rolling down Rosemary's cheek, and a new gleam had entered her eyes. "My owner doesn't love me!" she cried, backing away until she was cornered against a wall and a metal garbage can.

     "What do you mean?" Chatka asked, puzzled. She was both sorrowed and intrigued by this little pet - what could possibly have spurred such a violent reaction?

     Rosemary shook her head from side to side, trying to hold back the welling tears. It wasn't a gesture of denial; it was simply an attempt to shake everything away. Everything that was wrong.

     "Where do you live?" tried Chatka. Surely that wouldn't move the Cybunny to tears - perhaps it might even help to soothe her.

     Rosemary sniffed, whiskers trembling, and pointed with a tentative paw to the next street down. Chatka watched for a moment, unable to credit it; then it was all she could do to stop her jaw from dropping. Rosemary was pointing to Laurel Drive, the most expensive street in the neighborhood and possibly in Neopia Central also. "You live on Laurel Drive?" said the Wocky incredulously.

     A miserable nod was Rosemary's response.

     Chatka felt completely thrown off. She'd been envisioning Rosemary as a poor street urchin with no home to go to. Then again, she did seem to have an owner, so Chatka could only surmise that the Cybunny had wandered off, gotten lost, become too frightened to think sensibly or find her way back, and eventually been stumbled on by Chatka. Well, at least the problem would be easily solved. "Don't worry, Rosemary. You got lost, didn't you? I'll just take you back home." And I'll still be at school in time, she added silently.

     To her astonishment, Rosemary's fur bristled and her eyes narrowed slightly. "No! I'm not going back."

     "Did you run away then?" Chatka was beginning to feel a bit exasperated.

     "You have to understand, you have to understand," cried Rosemary. "My owner doesn't love me, she doesn't love anybody, and tomorrow we're going away and I'll never see Lyka again…" She broke off into small, quiet sobs, punctuated by the hiccups of one who is trying very hard not to cry.

     "What do you mean? Surely your owner has to love you? I mean, that's what owners are there for. It's okay. I know you're upset with her right now, but when I take you back she'll be so glad to see you. I promise."

     "She won't," said Rosemary, her lower jaw jutting slightly in a defiance Chatka wouldn't have thought she possessed. "You don't know her."

     Chatka sighed and shrugged. "All right, well, we'll see about that. Now come on. It's only a few steps down the road to your house, and on the way you can tell me all about Lyka."

     Rosemary roused herself to follow, looking unwilling and unhappy, but fortunately she did follow. Chatka didn't know what she'd have done otherwise. The Faerie Cybunny thought for a minute, then started her tale. "Lyka is my secret. And my friend. She will always be my friend."

     Chatka did her best to gather the meandering tale together. It was a patchwork tale, pieces of wonderful stories woven together with trust, compassion, kindness, beauty. The Wocky could never say how long it lasted, but she found herself loitering here and there under the shade of a tree or on a soft patch of grass.

     Lyka was Rosemary's friend, her secret friend, a blue Xweetok. They'd met entirely by accident when Rosemary found Lyka peeking in through a crack in the back fence; Rosemary had fluttered over it and chased the intruder for a quarter of a mile, whereupon they'd become the best friends in all Neopia.

     Rosemary was young and naïve then, but even she knew better than to tell her iron-hearted owner about her new companion. So they met here and there, now and then, sneaking moments and enjoying every second all the more. Their adventures had been widespread and not altogether ethical, ranging from apple-eating to faerie-hunting to running away with fresh laundry. There had been close calls sometimes, like when Rosemary's sister Veronica decided to track her down and discover the fascinating place she always seemed to wander off to. Lyka and Rosemary hid behind a thick hedge, eating blueberries, and were very nearly revealed when Lyka found herself unable to stifle an irresistible giggle.

     Then there was the time when they'd determined to go fishing. Using string and small branches, two makeshift fishing rods were constructed, and the friends marched out proudly to the stream, each boasting of ludicrous - and as yet unmade - catches. It was their bad luck that something in fact did bite at Lyka's bait (a small portion of a ham sandwich) and pulled her headfirst into the water. Rosemary dived in, and both swore upon reemergence that it had been a spirit, for they'd seen nothing underwater.

     There were more, and Chatka listened in fascination. Where were these moments in her childhood? When had she and Anita felt the true bonds of friendship? Suddenly her whole life seemed meaningless and shallow, and Chatka knew that she would never be the same Wocky again.

     At last, though all too soon, they arrived at Rosemary's house. It was huge and grand, with topiary everywhere and a Lenny fountain in the front yard. Chatka felt inadequate and poor, but she tugged Rosemary up the steps with determination and lifted the heavy knocker, the metal cold beneath her paw.

     The door was opened almost at once by Rosemary's owner. Her grey eyes focused briefly on Chatka, then slid swiftly to Rosemary. "I hope you realize that it was absolutely intolerable, your running off like that. It would have been unthinkably embarrassing if I'd had to call the Chia Police. You could have been stolen, do you understand? I spent seven hundred thousand Neopoints on you, and they will not be wasted. Go up to your room. Now."

     "May - may I say goodbye to her?" Rosemary ventured, gesturing in a frightened way toward Chatka.

     Her owner looked at them impatiently. "If you find it necessary. Please thank the Wocky, you're forgetting your manners."

     "Thank you," Rosemary whispered. "We're moving tomorrow, but I'll never forget you."

     Or Lyka, Chatka thought sadly. All she said, however, was, "Don't worry, Rosemary. I could never forget you, no matter what happens."

     "Well then…goodbye."

     On impulse, Chatka reached for her pocket and pulled out the Dubloon decisively. She handed it to Rosemary, and the Cybunny took it, closing it into her paw, gazing up at Chatka with wordless thanks. "Goodbye, and good luck," said Chatka simply.

     Then Rosemary's owner pushed her inside. "I am most grateful to you for returning my pet, Wocky. Isn't it a pity, we'll never see you again."

     And with that, the great door closed and Chatka was left standing alone on the doorstep, looking up at the vast, vast house with its cold windows, so very like the eyes of little Rosemary's owner. Little Rosemary, who she would never see again.

The End