Silver Linings, New Beginnings

     “Another year ending, another year beginning,” she thought to herself, staring glumly out the window at the leaves swirling into the grey sky outlining Terror Mountain’s peak above.

     “But why do I feel exactly the same?”

     It had been a hard few months for Juno, and even on the eve of a brand new year, she couldn’t stop the incessant spiraling her mind had been doing lately. She looked at her reflection in the window, and smiled sadly at the Grey Draik staring back at her.

     “Maybe I just need to write up a list of resolutions, or something. That seems to help a lot of other people!” Juno sighed.

     “I’m not sure what I’ll write down, but I guess I could try.”

     Just as she pulled out a piece of paper to start, she heard a fluttering sound outside her front door, then a soft yelp followed by a loud crash. Juno’s wings fluttered nervously as she looked around, cautiously standing up from her chair. As quietly as she could, Juno tip-toed to the window closest to the front door, peering out carefully from behind green velvet drapes.

     Crouched on the front porch swing was a small faerie whom Juno had never seen before. The faerie was about half Juno’s height, with curling wings the color of lemon custard that shimmered like fish scales in the waning light of winter dusk. Except that one of the faerie’s wings looked crumpled, and she was crouched over, crying. She rocked gently back and forth on the swing with her feet up on the bench, her head down, and her elbows hugging her knees in close.

     Juno tentatively closed the drapes and covered her eyes with both hands.

     “I know I should help, but I’m really feeling anxious today, and I want to be alone.” After several long seconds, she slowly brought her hands from her face, and shook her head.

     “No, I would want someone to offer to help if they saw me get hurt. It’s the right thing to do!”

     Juno steeled herself and took a deep breath. The dark mahogany wood door creaked as it opened past the threshold, and Juno stuck her head outside.

     “Hey, are you ok? I thought I heard a crash, or something,” Juno called out.

     The faerie kept rocking, and didn’t look up. She was making little sniffling sounds that made Juno think she was still crying, but she couldn’t see the faerie’s face to be able to tell for sure.

     “Excuse me? Are you ok?” Juno spoke up again, this time reaching out and touching the faerie’s uninjured shoulder lightly.

     As if shocked where Juno had touched her, the faerie sprang to her feet. Juno stumbled backward and flew up into the air, startled by the faerie’s response. The faerie grabbed her injured shoulder, and put her palm out toward Juno, as if to prevent her from coming closer. Her eyes darted over Juno, whose petite, marbled red and grey wings were flapping furiously to keep her several feet off the ground.

     “No, I don’t want to hurt you!” Juno cried, hands up, as she guardedly floated back toward the ground. She touched down lightly a few feet from the faerie.

     “I just want to help.”

     As Juno returned to Neopian soil, the faerie started signing rapidly, a series of elegant and yet frantic movements.

     Stay AWAY, the faerie signed anxiously.

     Juno smiled. I want to help, she signed back, a little haltingly.

     Juno had not used Neopian Sign Language, or NSL, in years. When her older sister, Abbi, was born with a significant hearing loss in both ears, their parents decided to learn NSL themselves. Their parents’ dream was simply to have a family who could communicate, together, no matter what. In fact, NSL was technically Juno’s first language; her parents told her that she and Abbi would sign back and forth behind their backs far before Juno could speak in full sentences.

     When Abbi was old enough, the young Draik attended a special school with other Deaf Neopian (or DN) children. DN mentors at the school helped the children learn how to thrive confidently in a primarily hearing-centric world. Juno had always looked up to her sister for her strong sense of self, her ability to advocate for her needs, and her sense of community with her DN friends.

     Much later, Abbi moved to Faerie City after earning her law degree. She had been supporting the rights and accessibility of DNs and others in need ever since. Juno was hugely proud of her, but it had been a long time since she’d been able to visit. She just hadn’t been up for the long flight lately; it had been hard to feel good enough just getting out of her house, really…

     Juno stood still, hands held out in front of her, looking softly at the faerie with a small smile. The faerie’s eyes twinkled as soon as she saw Juno signing, but she held her ground.

     You know Neopian Sign Language? The faerie winced, holding onto her hurt shoulder again after trying to use a two-handed sign.

     Juno nodded, and signed back. My sister is Deaf, so I do know sign. I’m definitely a bit rusty. What’s your name?

     The faerie smiled, and seemed to relax, still gripping her shoulder.

     Marnie, she fingerspelled, then shared her name sign, an arcing half-circle, made with an “M” handshape, and centered over her right shoulder. A trail of faerie magic followed her handshape, and a bright, colorful rainbow appeared over her shoulder for a few seconds, sparkling happily before disappearing.

     Juno laughed merrily, and clapped her hands, then applauded in NSL by shaking her hands out in front of her about eye-level to show her approval.

     I’m Juno.

     Marnie bowed, giggling, then winced again and sat down on the porch swing quickly, obviously having hurt her shoulder again with the movement. Juno approached gingerly, offering a hand and a questioning gaze.

     Marnie nodded, signing, I’ve hurt this wing before. I think it’s just dislocated; last time this happened, I had to have help to get it back into place.

     Juno looked at the wing and shoulder carefully, taking stock of the injury. Her gentle hands pressed softly but firmly onto the shoulder joint, and she nodded again, slowly, closing her eyes to think.

     It’s definitely dislocated, but I can help. I’m a paramedic.

     Juno had been working with the local clinic on Terror Mountain for the past ten years as part of the first responder team. Without a major hospital nearby, the clinic was the main stop for any injury or illness in the surrounding area, whether major or minor. Juno had also been chosen to lead several large rescue efforts as part of the SAR, or Search and Rescue team. She’d seen her fair share of dislocations, as shoulder injuries were unfortunately among the most common for skiers and snowboarders on the Mountain.

     Marnie looked up at Juno hopefully. I’m on my way to my sister’s house for the weekend.

     The faerie’s hazel eyes welled up. A trickle of tears streamed down her face, each droplet sounding like wind chimes, hauntingly melodic, when they splashed to the ground below.

     I got blown off course by a gust of wind. I really want to make it to see my sister. Do you think you can help me?

     Thoughtfully but confidently, Juno nodded, then signed back.

     I can help, but it will hurt for a few seconds while we get the shoulder back in place. Do you trust me to do this with you?

     Marnie’s tears turned to glitter on her cheeks as she smiled, nodding emphatically, and signed quickly, I trust you. Let me know what you need me to do.

     Juno had Marnie lay on her stomach on the porch swing, her hurt shoulder hanging toward the ground. Marnie squeaked in pain, squeezing her eyes shut, but stayed as still as she could. Tapping her back distinctly three times as a signal, Juno firmly eased the hurt shoulder up, feeling it sink into place.

     Marnie’s eyes opened wide, then her whole body relaxed as she sat up. She breathed a big sigh of relief.

     MUCH better, Marnie signed, smiling gently, her eyes closed as she rocked the porch swing back and forth. When Marnie opened her eyes, Juno was in front of her with a chunky green sweater.

      Let’s make a sling for your arm. It’ll take some time for it to heal up.

     They worked together to wrap the sweater around Marnie’s hurt shoulder to keep her arm as stabilized as possible.

     Juno shivered. As she looked up toward Terror Mountain’s majestic peak, Juno realised it was starting to get dark. She glanced back at Marnie.

     Want to come in for dinner? There’s a guest bedroom, so you can get some rest here tonight. I bet your shoulder and wing will be healed up enough tomorrow for you to finish your flight to your sister’s.

     Marnie’s eyes sparkled. I would love that! It’s so nice to be able to chat with someone new.

     Juno and Marnie spent the evening making a delicious soup together, laughing while playing card games, and sharing stories. Marnie’s laugh tinkled throughout the house, seeming to fill each corner with light. They ended the night by making a large pan of warm, chewy brownies, and having a dance party to the newest M*YNCI album while ringing in the new year.

     It was past midnight when Juno showed a sleepy Marnie to her room, waving goodnight and wishing sweet dreams upon her new friend. Juno practically skipped back to her own room, humming to herself and beaming while she pulled the shades closed. After brushing her velvety wings and washing her horns, Juno finally laid down to sleep.

     She thought about how much had changed over the course of the day, and realised that the thing she was feeling was excitement for the future ahead. She took a deep breath, and pulled out her journal. “New Year’s Resolutions: 2025” she penned at the top of the page, then smiled, and began to write.

     Epilogue

     A few weeks later, Juno was sitting in her favorite chair by the window. Sunlight streamed into the room, seemingly from every angle. She’d been inspired by the light Marnie had seemed to echo throughout the house, and decided to remove the long velvet drapes that had previously covered every window frame in the house.

     Juno was covered in blankets, reading a new book while the snow fell softly outside. The library faerie had been so helpful in cultivating a list of options to fulfil one of Juno’s New Year’s resolutions to read more throughout the year, that Juno now had a whole stack of books to get through.

     As her mind wandered, she gazed out at the snow, and saw someone making their way up the long driveway. She stood up, and realised it was a Scorchio wearing a postal worker’s uniform. He had a small box tucked under his arm. Juno sprang out of the chair, and ran to the door, opening it wide.

     The Scorchio waved, and meandered up the porch steps, handing Juno’s mail and the package to her, then returned to his route. Juno thanked him, and quizzically stepped back inside. About the size of a shoebox, there was some obvious enchantment on the package, with FRAGILE! HANDLE WITH CARE! written several times, and big smiley faces drawn on all sides.

     After peeling one flap open, Juno found a note tucked carefully inside:

     Hi Juno! I wanted to send a note and a small thank you for your help with my shoulder. You are meant to help others, that much is obvious. Keep up the good work; I know you’ll support so many Neopians this year!

     When I spent the evening at your house, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was there. Quiet is refreshing at times, but I think you would probably benefit from a little someone to help balance it out for you. Anyway, the box is enchanted to ensure she has a safe and comfortable journey to you, and I know you’ll provide a warm space for her to share. I wish you both a lifetime of joy, light, and love.

     Xoxo, sparkles & giggles, Marnie.

     P.S. Let’s be pen pals! I want you to come visit me sometime in Faerieland, so let me know next time you’re out here visiting your sister. I’m sure she is as lovely as you are.

     Juno gaped at the package, which had just started chirping in her lap. She unfurled the other flaps, and gasped as she peeked inside.

     A tiny Weewoo chick was looking back at her, chirping and tapping her toes happily, her Rainbow-colored fur shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight. Juno held a hand down into the box and scooped her up, petting her tenderly with one finger before setting her down on the floor.

     The chick ran around happily, exploring her new home. Juno giggled and smiled bigger than ever, her eyes welling up with happy tears. She looked back down at the letter, amazed at the generosity and insight of her new friend, then glanced back at her new pal, who was watching her carefully.

     Juno opened her hands and let the chick run into her palms, cuddling her into her chest. The chick nuzzled into the side of her neck, warming up.

     “You’re home now,” Juno whispered, snuggling her new petpet back.

     As Juno glanced back out the window at the snow now falling in large, floaty flakes outside, she smiled and closed her eyes, feeling grateful.

     “I’m going to call you Hope.”

     The End.