Where The Weewoo Fly
It was a calm night on Krawk Island. Darkness was rapidly descending; like a blanket over the still, deep waters. The boats gently rocked in the harbour, like leaves on the steady breeze that carried in the night. The nocturnal creatures were stirring, as a full moon rose steadily into the sky to accompany the stars that had already come out. The weewoos were just awakening, and their calls carried back and forth across the Island, singing the haunting song of the Night.
A shuffling could be heard from a small shop, and the light pouring from the windows added a gentle complexity to the night. The shopkeeper of Little Nippers was just locking up, making sure every petpet was accounted for.
He made his fortune by catching petpets and selling them, but it wasn’t easy for an old Salt like him. His biggest sellers were the Quadrapi and the Weewoos, and he was lucky enough to know how to catch them. Occasionally he stumbled upon a lubber’s petpet, but he was always glad to give it back.
Checking the shallow water outside his shop, he scooped out a barrel of Quadrapi. “Aye, this will get me a small fortune righ’ere, it will,” he muttered happily to himself. That was a good haul for the night.
He checked on his weewoos, which he had set lures for on the roof, and saw that he had gotten quite a nice catch that evening. Three weewoos called out happily when he came to release them from the net.
He grasped them gently, so they wouldn’t fly away.
“Well, what do we have here?” he said, peering closely at one in particular as he brought them into the light of the shop. “It seems I’ve got a rainbow weewoo on my hands. How did ya get in there?”
Chuckling to himself, he brought it to the window. “They say weewoos are magical, y’know,” he addressed the bird. “They say that every week, thousands of white weewoos deliver the Neopian Times. Nobody ever sees them, but they say it’s weewoo magic.” Looking right at the petpet, he continued, “You’re a special one, I can feel it. Go on, spread that weewoo magic.”
He pushed open the window and watched it fly away, singing happily as it left.
And so the weewoo flew on, farther away, into the waking morning.
A glum grey Aisha sat by the wishing well in Neopia Central, holding a small bag of neopoints.
“Oh what to wish for,” she said sadly to herself. “All I want is a good smile, but no item can give me that. What then, is the point of wasting this money, by throwing it down a well, when it could be used to help somebody?”
She broke off suddenly, as she noticed something shift on the edge of the well.
The weewoo called cheerfully to her.
“A rainbow weewoo,” she whispered happily, a startled smile lighting up her face. “They say weewoos are magical.” She contemplated this before adding, “I think I will donate this to the Money Tree. But first...” She dropped a handful of coins into the well. “For weewoo magic.”
The weewoo stood there for a moment more, before flying off in the direction the Money Tree.
Perching on one of the higher branches, it watched as the Aisha dropped her bag between its roots and then walked away.
It continued to sit there silently for a few more minutes, watching neopets wander around the donations, rich and poor folk alike. After a moment, a starving Lupe caught the weewoo’s eye. He was cautiously edging toward a piñata that hung on one of the lower branches, trying not to draw attention to himself.
The weewoo could see why. That piñata would sell for a high enough price to feed the poor little Lupe for a good few weeks. But already someone had spotted it, and a crowd was forming around it. That scrawny little Lupe stood no chance.
Chirping loudly, the weewoo flew down to one of the lower branches, but still well out of reach. The crowd, immediately catching sight of its blinding colours, stopped in their tracks. For one moment all was silent.
“Somebody get that petpet.”
“It’s too high! I can’t reach it!”
“Ongz, so much profit if I sell it.”
“Out of my way, it’s mine!”
The Lupe, seizing his chance, dived for the piñata. Throwing the weewoo one last grateful look, he scampered away.
The weewoo in the meantime inhabited the branches of the Money Tree for just a while longer, before flying off once more.
While soaring over the treetops, it came across a rainbow Pteri, out on a flight as well. The petpet had seen this bird before, intent on finding the Mystery Island Treasure. “Hey there, little buddy,” the Pteri laughed. “We match.”
Swooping lower, the smaller bird led the other in the direction of a small cave. Making sure the Pteri had spotted it, the weewoo changed course, before the Pteri could call out again. “See you later, little bud.”
Their encounter was rather brief, and they soon parted directions. The Pteri flew off to pursue his treasure, while the weewoo continued to soar through to Geraptiku.
“Face it, we’re lost,” came the cry of a young Kougra, deep within the Lost Tomb. “We’ll never find a way out.”
Her brother, failing to reassure her, could do nothing. “I didn’t want to come here either, Sis. There’s nothing we can do now except hope to find our way. We’ve been in here for hours...” He broke off suddenly, for he had heard the calling of a weewoo. Realizing it was not the delusions of his own mind, he began to follow the sound.
“Come on,” he said to his sister. “I think I know how to get us out.”
And so they followed the mysterious singing, until they could see light up ahead. “By Fyora’s crown!” they exclaimed. “We’re out!”
The Kougra squinted from the blinding sun that shone directly into his eyes, but he thought that he could almost make out the shape of the weewoo that saved them, soaring off in the direction of Faerieland.
Up in Faerieland, a rather sad looking teen sat just outside the gates of the city, staring longingly at the Rainbow Fountain. “Oh if only she’d give me a quest. I’ve been visiting her for six years. Not once has she even so much as looked at me.”
The Fountain Faerie heard this, but there were many other Neopians out there. She preferred to consult her fountain when choosing who to give quests to. And right now there was nothing in particular that she needed. Checking her reflection in the waters of her fountain, she just barely saw the flash of colour before she noticed that her hair clip was missing.
“Ugh!” she cried, before pointing at the closest living thing she saw. “You! Get me my hair clip!” she demanded of the girl.
Dropping the clip into the startled girl’s hand, the bird watched as the excited user presented the Faerie with her clip again.
Satisfied, it flew off into a glorious sunset.
Darkness was settling once more, so the weewoo changed course, heading back for the little Island it had come from.
The weewoos were already awake, and their haunting melody awaited the setting of the sun. The rainbow weewoo joined them, singing in a higher, more pleasant pitch.
It skimmed the surface of the sparkling water, casting rainbows with its reflection. The sun was just setting, and for just a moment, the sky was a gorgeous shade of violet. The water, catching its light, reflected it back thousands of times; every wave was momentarily filled with colour.
It was a sight unbelievable to behold. For a moment, it seemed as if time itself stopped. As if the day, rushing to a close, had slowed down for just one instant, to savour one moment of pure elation. It was perfect; it was elegant; it was absolutely divine.
It was weewoo magic.