"Y-y-you d-o-o-n't lo-o-ok happy-y-y...!" she echoed.
Fumbles heaved a great sigh and rolled onto his tummy. Grains of water-smooth white sand clung to his back and stubby wings.
"It's too hot here," he mumbled, knowing he could talk himself in circles before she'd hear him. Not many pets ventured out during high noon's heat in the Lost Desert, so of course that was prime flight time. He watched as she wheeled in the sky, glorying in the pure thrill that was her aerial display. A tiny kite careened like windblown gauze after her tail, and Fumbles recognized her little Ghoti, Rha-me, darting after her in the wind. Funny creature.
Fumbles adored his windy Shoyru friend, but sometimes he felt like he didn't even know her. Who could stay here? Who ENJOYED being cooked every day, feeling the light and the heat like a thousand little weights on their skin at every single moment?
Of course, she WAS equipped for the desert. With her black kohl lines and her pristine desert jewelry, it was clear there was no place she'd rather be than beneath Neopia's hot midday sun in the newly found 'Lost Desert'. And if she decided here was the place...then far be it from Fumbles to say otherwise.
So he laid on the hot sand, and ruffled his sun-bleached green scales in the nonexistent breeze, and watched his friend flit about the pyramids. And he wondered...
Is there anywhere BETTER than HERE?
It was a VERY blustery day on Terror Mountain; icy snowflakes and eerie windy howls rent the air, pooling in the ice cracks all around. Snowballs rained dangerously from every direction; especially if an unwary bystander happened into the middle of a voracious Chia snowball fight. Fumbles took ONE yellow snowball to the snout, then bolted for the safety of the nearest gingerbread house.
"Hello! Welcome-to-Happy-Valley!" chirped the perky ice-colored Bruce behind the counter. A pair of Candychans were mummifying themselves in his Christmas colored scarf, and a solemn Abominable Snowball stared silently at him from a high back shelf. "Would-you-like-to-buy-a-wintery-petpet?" The Bruce talked so fast it was hard to strain his words into coherent sentences. Fumbles padded over to the counter and sat on his haunches to get an eye-to-eye view with the jiggling Bruce.
"You're quite excited, aren't you?" Fumbles said.
The Bruce bounced twice and ruffled his sleek coat until he looked like a big blue snowball himself.
"I've-had-one-too-many-bubble-gum-slushies-today, I-think!" He explained, all very high and very fast. "Petpet?"
Fumbles ogled a big-eared Christmas Faellie chewing mournfully on a withered winter apple. He was remembering his friend Hana'kht and her graceful little Ghoti- her very best friend in the world.
"I don't know...none of them look very friendly. They all ?" A curious clicking noise turned Fumbles around again, to the counter from which it was issued. The excitable blue Bruce had disappeared! He hopped onto the clean flat countertop and settled on all four feet to peer curiously behind the counter for the shopkeep.
The Bruce had fallen flat on his back and was wiggling furiously in his attempt to right himself, before the troublesome Candychans could tie him up completely with his own red scarf. He was giggling hysterically- it was the mysterious clicking sound Fumbles had heard. "S-s-stop-it!" The Bruce cried. "I'm-ticklish!"
A tap on the Scorchio's leg made him look down. A goggle-eyed Spardel cocked its head to the right and left at him, ridiculously comical with its floppy pink tongue stuck all the way out.
"I've got to go." Fumbles said.
As he flapped up the steep snowy grade that led to the Ice Caves, Fumbles noticed a very odd thing: there seemed to be almost no one around up here! Indeed, once he reached the Caves' interior, he found not a single living soul in sight. The ice spires, the entrance to the Snowager's cave, even the deserted!
Fumbles set down beside the Ice Crystal shop and shook a few sticky snowflakes from his head. "Hello?"
Clack-clack-clack-
Fumbles whirled, but caught only a spray of random pebbles sliding innocently down from a stone ledge behind him. No one.
Crunch!
He turned again, searching for the motion's cause. Once more, he found nothing- Only a bare set of pawprints in the hardened white snow.
WHOO-
This time Fumbles was faster. He turned his head up to see- and found himself faced with a terrifying icy skeleton, leering hideously down at him from the nearest ice spire. It launched itself at him, clacking its voiceless jaws malevolently. Fumbles let out one fearful, broken cry- before a streak of violet and ice-blue swept above him, knocking the ice skeleton away.
An enormous striped Grarrl pounded past him, shaking the earth with every step he took. As Fumbles watched, he took another swipe at the fallen skeleton with his massive tail. A sickening snap echoed, the skeleton dropped the poisonous snowflake it had been about to launch...and laid still.
"You saved me!" Fumbles gasped, cowering beneath the monstrous Grarrl. "Thank you!"
The Grarrl turned slowly, settling observant green eyes upon the hapless little Scorchio. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and rumbling.
"Little beast," he boomed, "Why are you here?"
"I w-w-wanted to see if-f this...was the p-place for me-" Fumbles stuttered, suddenly nervous and shy under such a great warrior's gaze.
The Grarrl's eyes narrowed; suddenly he threw his huge head back and let out a roar of laughter. "Oh, ho! Well I am SORRY, small cousin...but there is a WAR going on right now. Can't you see the toll it has taken?" Each word was slow and dark, and impressed itself deeply into the leaf-green Scorchio. War? War- yes, he supposed there was. Nothing of this WAR had come to the sun-soaked sands of the Lost Desert, but clearly it held sway in this frozen wasteland...
Fumbles turned away from him and spread his wings, racing the laughter-ridden wind out of the cave, back to the warm air and the bright sun of Southern Neopia. This was not the place for him.
Many times, Fumbles had passed by the Haunted Woods, on his way to or from the Lost Desert. Strange cackles issued from the darkened woods, and the ever-dead leaves rustled together like old bones in the wind. He often saw foreboding Halloween Meercas or lonely, gravel-grey Kougras following indeterminate paths through the gloomy, moonless woods; watching nothing and waiting for no one. It made him ache inside to see the heartless grey pets drift so aimlessly and helplessly about...just like their patron faerie...
Are the Haunted Woods a good place for me? Fumbles wondered. He didn't like to be frightened. Some pets could look inside themselves and find darkness, as simple as a different vein to the heart. THAT was the kind of pet that lived among the half-dead neo-trees and moved without fear through the dank halls of Eliv Thade's castle. When Fumbles looked inside himself...he just didn't see that darkness.
He turned back.
The light gradually strengthened the farther he got from the Woods, until it shone like liquid gold around his body and imbued his plain green scales with green-glass sparkles. Suddenly energized, Fumbles folded his wings and took a dive for the earth, playfully flagging them again and soaring barely a Kyrii's foot above the ground. What was this new happiness inside of him? What weight had been lifted from his shoulders? Fumbles snorted bobbed with mirth at the rude noise. He felt...he felt...like a MILLION DUBLOONS.
And looking up, realized the cause.
A massive cloud floated above him, miles and miles across. It was the faeries' cloud.
The residents of Faerieland were mostly faeries themselves; an exclusive club that was both friendly...but private. Looking about, flutters of pale web-wings and flashes of violet velvet-soft fur prevailed over other, less colorfully painted pets. A handful of twinkling faerie Grundos stood out most of all; glittering like midnight fire in the bright white sun.
Fumbles felt just a bit overwhelmed by the light and the laughter that seemed to touch even the darkest corners of the cloud. The Queen's palace gleamed mother-of-pearl in the distance; the massive, loudly-decorated Faerie Wheel spun dizzyingly to his right; Jhudora's cloud was being frequented by only the bravest of neopets in the land. They zipped back and forth laden with expensive items and streaks of the dark faerie's black smoke tainting their gleaming hides.
Where to begin? There were so many places to visit, so many neopets all around, so much possibility, he didn't even know where to start...
"Hello, Fumbles," said the Faerie. She had been seated just behind him, watching his confusion with a gentle smile gracing her elfin features. She held an armful of injured white Ixi, stroking the parts that hurt and leaving whole, healthy hide behind.
"How did you know my name?" Fumbles asked. He felt self-conscious in his plain green scales before such a lovely creature.
The faerie laughed, a sound like tinkling silver bells in the breeze.
"I know your name, silly pet. I know the name of each and every pet in Neopia- they come to me for healing. But I'm puzzled...you are completely fine. Why, then, are YOU here?"
Fumbles bashfully clawed at his muzzle, flattening his spines against his back.
"I'm...looking for the place I'm meant to be. The Lost Desert is so hot- and I get lonely sometimes. Ice Mountain is too scary, and filled with terrible monsters; The Haunted Woods...aren't for me." He waited for her to laugh like the Grarrl, but her expression remained rapt and kind. "I was wondering if it's here."
The faerie turned her head slightly as she pondered. The ixi she'd been tending gave her a grateful lick on the hand and leapt down from her lap. Just as quickly, a handsome holiday Peophin leapt up to take its place.
"I think...I think that it's up to you where you're meant to be. Faerieland is bright and kind, but it's popular with all manner of pets, and active at all times of the day and night. I know Scorchios can be private creatures, and seek places where they can safely hide their hoards. Think carefully before you make your choice."
His hoard! Fumbles blinked in surprise. He loved shiny, gem-studded things, and he guarded them jealously in secret places he never told even his closest friends. WOULD his hoard be safe here?
He thanked the gracious faerie and drifted away from her springs, fidgeting as he thought. Too many pets, true. The constant light, at all times blasting impurities and cloudy thoughts from its presence, was beginning to press on him. The Water Faerie had been right; he was a private creature, he needed some place he could be alone, but never lonely...
The scent of heavy flowers drifted past Fumbles' snout and he unconsciously tested the air for more. There it was again: fragrant and alluring, sweet like color lilies. The scorchio wheeled about, searching for its source.
"...And then he said, 'You will rapidly realize you must stop wearing hats' but I don't WEAR any hats!" The source was a plaintive white Uni a few yards away, wailing her woes to a vicious-looking Darigan Lupe. The source of the scent was coming from a lush blue bloom placed in near one seashell-shaped ear. From the distance she appeared to be oddly striped...but as Fumbles neared her, he made out strange whorls and blooms of gold paint traced on her hide. What manner of creature was SHE?
"Hello?"
The Lupe cocked his ears and flexed needle-sharp claws. "Whoo arre you? And whyyyy do youu interrrrupt usss sso?" The Uni looked more startled than irritated, but she pawed impatiently at a stray bit of cloud as she waited for him to answer.
"I was wondering...where are you from, Ms. ah...Uni?"
"Oh can't you tell? I spent enough time getting myself painted; I'd hoped it should be obvious by now. I'm from the Island."
"The Island?" Fumbles repeated dubiously. Krawk Island? He'd never been there. Krawks were nervy.
The Uni trilled in amusement, flipping an emerald mane like spider silk. "NO! I mean Mystery Island. Haven't you ever been to Mystery Island"
Mystery Island was clear on the other side of Neopia from the Lost Desert. A whole ocean away.
"Nope. What's it like?"
"Ifff you wannt to knnnow, flyy therre and sstop botherrring uss," the Lupe snapped, taking a practice swipe at Fumbles. The smaller neopet sat back on his heels and burbled a wordless warning to the rude beast.
"Fine then. I will. Sorry to have bothered you." He could hear the Uni berating her friend for his manners as he flew away, and the Lupe's sibilant and completely unapologetic response.
Mystery Island...was beautiful. It was dark and quiet, with promising green foliage and exotic flowers blooming in rainbow patches over its face. In the center of the island a majestic mountain loomed, glowing hot with inner fire and rumbling ominously from time to time. At its base a few random little huts had been drawn up and were surrounded by exotically dressed, chanting Myncis.
Fumbles circled the night-shrouded island slowly, flying without flapping on the cool breezes that rustled the jungle trees. A few roaring bonfires had been set up on the western-most beach and crackled merrily; they threw off waves of blood-colored sparks over water the color of ink. Minute, dancing specks became larger and larger, until finally, they became coherent Neopian shapes. Here, a cloudy Poogle pranced to a drum beat by the fire; there, a glowing Eyrie preened himself of phosphorescent feathers; a group of multi-colored pets sat near the water's edge and organized a petpetpet hunting expedition over the majority of the island's undergrowth.
Fumbles set down a small way away from the activity and watched the socializing pets with wide eyes. The brilliant variety of colors and breeds sent pangs of jealousy as green as his skin through him. HE wanted a color. True, the firelight set his scales aglow like a hundred mini emeralds, but there was just SOMETHING about the eye-catching mutant Draik-
The tiniest of splashes and a bloom of white caught Fumbles' attention. He turned his muzzle out, to the sea, and watched the mushroom of black water settle flat again after whatever rustled it returned to the depths.
He waited for a few more seconds, but nothing happened.
And the very moment he turned his head away, another SLOOP SLOOP echoed off the water, and little waves of darkness lapped at the Scorchio's ankles.
Now he KNEW something was there. He took one hesitant step into the water- and then another- and found, to his surprise and delight, that the night-dark ocean water wasn't icy or foreboding at all. It was warm and comforting, sloshing about his scales, inviting him deeper still.
This time he was staring right at the spot it happened. A round, big-eared blue head surfaced for just the briefest moment, blinked at him, then slipped under.
"Wait!" Fumbles gasped. He had known that Peophins and Tuskininnies populated the ocean's vast waters, but the creature he'd just seen looked nothing like them. It looked- almost like a KORBAT-
Now Fumbles' little feet couldn't touch the sand. He was dog-paddling crookedly, hampered by his stubbly wings and their paper-thin membranes. He paused for a moment, pondering how to proceed, then lowered his wings INTO the water and pumped them in time with his strokes. He shot forward through the water; half a dozen strokes turning the bonfires into flecks of dancing flame on the far-off beach.
The water was dark and silent, and opaque to his sight. He couldn't even make out his own legs beneath him as he paddled. The only light came from the moon above, helpful only in discerning the most rudimentary of shapes above the black-glass sea...like the Korbat-head.
"Wait! Don't leave! I want to talk to you!"
The Korbat glided a bit to his left, but stayed above-water. Its eyes were small and black and curious.
"What- what are you?" Fumbles whispered.
"I'm a Korbat. And you're a Scorchio." The little creature returned. It was swimming slow, easy circles around him as he floated.
"But you're...in the water. Korbats are fliers, like me."
"You're in the water, too." His logic was undeniable. More than just his head popped out, then, and Fumbles caught sight of the rest of him. His wings were fins, his body was the color of blue sea foam, and his pointed tail was no longer flanked by tiny feet. It was a...sea Korbat?
"What HAPPENED to you?" He breathed.
"I'm from Maraqua." The Korbat answered simply. "Want me to show you?"
Fumbles nodded eagerly, buzzing with excitement. The Korbat up-ended and dove, and after a moment's hesitation, Fumbles followed him. He took a deep breath, put his head in the water, and pumped his wings as hard as he could.
They swam for miles- or so it seemed. A horizon of light was birthed at the very farthest extent of Fumbles' vision, and he strained his eyes to see. A building? No. Ruins? Maybe...His lungs were beginning to strain as they neared the wreckage of once-proud Maraqua, pitted with boulders and dust and scraps of broken architecture. With a faint shock, he realized the light he'd been seeing emanated from a glowing, bubbling pit deep in a fissure north of the ruins. Blazes of colorful bubbles streamed up from out the pit, dissolving into clear black water above it, creating a shimmering aurora of light that could be seen for miles around.
There, the Korbat pointed. Go there.
Fumbles' chest was on fire. He struggled forward, trying not to panic as he plunged through the sheets of bubbles deep into the pit. He couldn't breathe- he was a Scorchio, meant for air, not water- he was NOT-
And then everything changed.
The bubbles lit upon his skin, melting over him with cool, ticklish relief. Where they touched, green faded to orange; his wings became webs; his joints fused together and melded strangely. And he could breathe again.
Fumbles bolted back up from the pit, moving twice as fast as he had before.
What had happened? He could see unobstructed through the water, where a variety of amused sea creatures awaited his reaction to his new transformation. Fumbles took his queue from them and inspected himself curiously; thoroughly. He was not...an air dragon. He was a water dragon. A rare Maraquan Scorchio, unique in his own special way and completely at home in his new watery surroundings.
It was quiet here, and without crowds. The water was cool and dark, lacking the icy fear of the haunted woods or terrifying monsters of Ice Mountain. The sea floor was littered with grooves and nooks, perfect for hiding one's very special treasures.
Little Fumbles had found a spectacular new shape, and a place just right for him. He swirled his new fins exultantly, enjoying the simple weightlessness and ease of the ocean's depths. Then he turned to greet his new friends.
A water dragon. Who knew?