Chapter Fifteen:

In the Name of Mother

 

 

“Let him go,” said Vasco, who had done nothing the whole time to stop Jayce. “If the guilt don’t kill him he’s got a lifetime to live with it.”

    “What about this lot?” muttered Nash, glancing at the Eevees huddled with Glacia.

    Vasco shrugged heartlessly. A sudden wave of anger burned over Nash. . . . His brother was gone . . . he had lost the only family he ever cared for . . .

    One slash sliced open Acacia’s throat, blood spilling onto the cream carpet —

    “MUUUUM!” cried Fall. Glacia screamed hysterically; rushing in front of her terror-stricken siblings, she blocked off their view standing sideways and wailed at them, “DON’T LOOK!”

    Nash let Acacia hit the floor, hyperventilating in her immediate oncome of shock. Fall pressed both his paws over the slit . . . he knew he had to stop the bleeding. . . . But blood leaked through his toes . . . the carotid arteries had been severed. . . . All Acacia could hear was her children crying. She looked up at her firstborn son. Long lines of darkened fur streaked down his cheeks, but he tried to keep a brave face. Her heart slowed, a strange calm easing her breathing. . . . She felt so relaxed, like sunbathing on a deserted beach . . . the sand golden and warm . . . the breeze perfect . . . the sky pure blue . . . the ocean gently lulling her to sleep. . . .

    “M-M-Mum . . . ?”

    Acacia remained still. “M-Mum . . . w-wake up . . .” Fall lifted her head with his muzzle but she would not respond to his increasingly desperate cries. “Wake up . . . p-please, Mum — wake up!”

    A huge, clawed foot stamped into Fall’s view and he cricked his neck to meet Vasco’s glare, finding himself hardly afraid.

    “She’s dead, boy,” the Tyranitar said pitilessly. “Accept it.”

    Fall looked at the lifeless body of his mother.

    Thunder rumbled over the storm-clouded wasteland that was his world.

    Everything poured out of him, suffering, tears, snot. . . . A big part of him did not believe any of this was real — how could it be? Things like this only happened in films, TV shows, and books, not in real life . . . it couldn’t happen to him. . . . There would be no waking from this torment . . . he was trapped in reality’s compassionless tendrils. . . .

    Almost not able to walk, he gave himself to Glacia, brother and sister crying out their souls in each other’s embrace.

    Vasco watched Nash close in on the family like they were prey. “Don’t,” he said strictly, and Nash stopped, looking at him in irritated confusion.

    “‘Don’t’?” repeated Nash. “Whaddya mean don’t? A sec ago you didn’t give a —”

    “A sec ago they had a mother,” Vasco retorted, shooting his callous reputation out of the sky. “You stole that from them. You’re not taking their lives as well.”

    Nash stared at him like he was bonkers.

    “Have you gone shit soft?”

    Vasco took a step forward. “Be very careful . . .” he said dangerously.

    Nash averted his gaze. He noticed the Flareon giving him a death stare, his eyes shining with tears.

    “I never knew my parents,” Vasco disclosed to Fall, reclaiming his attention. “Such loss is an affliction I cannot comprehend. . . .”

    Fall said nothing, staring fiercely into Vasco’s eyes. He could feel Glacia shaking while they continued to hold each other. Behind him, his brothers and sisters were whimpering. Vasco seemed to be ruminating on something. . . .

    A subtle head flick struck Fall like a comet of disbelief, leaving him totally nonplussed. “Go,” Vasco confirmed the Flareon’s thoughts . . . He was letting them go. . . .

    Fall and Glacia looked at each other in equal shock. Without thinking, the two tried to embolden their younger siblings into leaving. Except for Dawn and Simon, none of the Eevees would stand. Fall crouched down to them, urging them onto his back — Raina and Eclipse had barely gripped his mane when he sprung to his feet; Summer clambered onto Glacia’s back as Glacia took Rose by the scruff of her neck.

    Fall instructed Simon and Dawn to follow at Glacia’s side and to keep looking straight ahead. They done exactly as they were told and passed their dead mother on the other side of Glacia without seeing, though they could not stop themselves gazing up at the monstrous Tyranitar, ears flattening and lowering to a creep under his stature. Summer kept her eyes scrunched up, the side of her head laid against Glacia, and her paws squeezed around her neck. Glacia paused to wait for Fall as Simon and Dawn disappeared around the damaged wall, insulation layers exposed from within.

    Like Glacia, Fall subconsciously looked a final time at his mother going past, but unlike Glacia he loured Nash with a desire to avenge . . . a taste for murder . . .

    “Boy,” Vasco called to him just as he joined Glacia in the hallway. “Know how you survive in a cruel world . . . ? You be crueller . . . Give as much mercy as you get. . . .”

    Fall’s throat was too dry and sore for speech even if he had any words. He failed to notice the restlessness of his family until Simon tugged at his foreleg and worriedly hurried him along. Together, they broke into a run down the corridor, escaping out where the front door used to stand prior to Vasco’s entry.

    Fall led them into the forest, having no idea which direction they were headed. He didn’t know anywhere to go; his grandparents on his mother’s side had died some years back, and the rest of her family lived in Sinnoh; Acacia’s parents had sailed with her to Tavolous from Sinnoh in her early teens. And Jayce hadn’t spoken to any of his family in fifteen years, so Fall knew no one on his father’s side. No . . . that man was not his father. He meant nothing to Fall now — a worthless coward who valued his own skin above a loving family, glad to abandon them in order to save it. . . . This furious thought bubbled and stewed like boiling water in his mind, drowning out the yelps and whines of the others being swatted by brushwood.

    “Where are we going?” Dawn puffed.

    Fall carried on running, oblivious to his sister and most of the forest attacking him. They emerged into a clearing under the white moon where Glacia, bearing a mouthful of Rose’s scruff, mumbled Fall to stop. Finally, the Flareon did, no less out of breath than the others. Glacia set Rose down.

    For a moment they rested, Simon and Dawn cuddling up with Rose by Glacia’s feet, their combined fur and warmth comforting the littlest Eevee. Summer looked set to cling to Glacia for life, and Eclipse and Raina didn’t seem sure of staying on Fall’s back or not.

    Fall was first to break the snivelled silence. “We’ve got to keep moving,” he said grimly. “Get out of the forest.”

    “Then where?” said Glacia in a tenuous voice. “We can’t survive without money or adults . . . Who’d take care of us?”

    “We’ll go to the police,” said Fall, unwavering. “They can help —”

    “Police, police, police . . .” droned the voice of Acacia’s killer. Glacia spun around with a gasp. Fall felt his siblings’ grip on his fur tighten . . . Nash stepped out of the trees where they had come. “That’s everybody’s answer to everything — the police. So where are they when you need ’em, eh?” he said, holding out his arms and mockingly looking around as he walked nearer. “Oh, nowhere to be found. . . .” This sentence waned into a dark chuckle.

    Glacia picked Rose up again and backed away with Dawn and Simon, grouping together with Fall. Nash stopped, Flareon and Toxicroak locked in baleful glares.

    “I reckon there’s something between me and you we ought to settle. . . .” grinned Nash.

    “Get off me . . .” breathed Fall. The Eevees slid from his back as he stepped forward, but Glacia grabbed a pawful of his side.

    “Fall . . . don’t do this . . .” she implored, trying to meet his eyes. There was a powerful, frightening, resolve unbefitting such blue eyes . . . Fall didn’t seem to have heard his sister at all. “He’ll kill you!”

    “Not if I kill him first,” said Fall, fixing that unsettling stare on her. “I can’t run away . . . but you can. . . . Take the others — find safety . . .”

    “We are NOT leaving you!”

    “I’m not asking!” Fall snapped at her. She shrunk back. “Just . . . promise me you’ll look after them. . . .” He glanced around at his brothers and sisters.

    Nash gave a sibilant, derisive laugh as Fall moved closer, accepting his challenge.

    “You got balls, I’ll give ya that,” he sneered, but fell silent at what he then saw.

    Glacia took a place at Fall’s side, staring down Nash with as much purpose as Fall, who himself wasn’t expecting this of her.

    “What’re you doing?” he hissed at her, sounding both furious and worried.

    “Looking after my family,” Glacia answered calmly.

    Fall was about to object when Nash huffed, “Whatever” and shot off a Dark Pulse from his palm; Fall barged Glacia clear of the whorling attack, which blew up bits of earth that rained over the six Eevees; they blenched and bunched closer together but were otherwise unharmed. “Don’t bother me how many of you I kill.”

    Fall thought back to all the hours he had spent play fighting with his siblings, all that time strengthening his muscles, unknowingly honing his predatory and combat prowess. He had practiced his Flamethrowers in this very forest for months. He knew he had been getting good: He had accuracy, control — not starting any fires since that extra-dry week last summer — but lacked power.

    Taking a gulp of air, Fall fired a hate-fuelled stream of flame at Nash, who made a mockery of the Flareon by turning where he stood and avoiding the attack with a slight bend of the spine. Fall’s problem had been his intake, Nash easily predicting his attack before it had even left his mouth.

    “Well this won’t take long . . .” croaked Nash, raising an assured smirk.

    Fall played right into his hands. In the time he filled his lungs with air, Nash’s body became cloaked in shadows, as though retreating into shade, and he demonstrated incredible agility, closing the gap between himself and Fall to kick him in the chin, sending him temporarily airborne. Fall had never experienced a Pokémon’s Sucker Punch attack before, such startling speed packing one hell of a wallop.

    The attack made Glacia shriek, but she got herself together and blew a chilly wind of blue sparkles at Nash, who endured the Icy Wind grunting uncomfortably. Frost found a grip in places, and Glacia could see he was shivering. But the attack was beginning to strain on her, and shortly she was forced to rest, stealing back her breath heavily.

    Numb with cold, Nash’s hand glowed a brilliant white and he charged the Glaceon — he brought the Brick Break down but ended up striking Fall across the back, the Flareon diving to protect his sister. He yelled out and crashed to the ground.

    “Fall!”

    Glacia faced Nash with a snarl and Tackled him, ramming her head into his stomach. Winded, Nash clobbered her on the back with an elbow. He grabbed her forelegs and used the centripetal force of his one eighty to throw her.

    Nash spun around to a Flamethrower he could not evade this time. He roared in pain and rage as the flames seared his face; although less strong and intense compared with an adult Flareon’s, Fall’s Flamethrower very much harmed Nash’s thin skin. Fall followed up this effective move using a turn of pre-evolution speed, Quick Attacking Nash in the chest.

    Enraged, Nash bellowed, “PLAYTIME’S OVER!” He shot Dark Pulse after Dark Pulse at his running enemy, knocking him off his feet by aiming the first of two more Dark Pulses ahead of him, the explosion of which bringing Fall to a halt and the second one scoring a hurtful hit to his ribs. Glacia took a jumping Tackle at Nash, slamming into the back of his head and making him lurch forward as though about to fall; he recovered faster than she could process, whirling about to grab her by the throat.

    Her hind paws flailed uselessly as he lifted her up. She felt her claws slicing into his wrist, but this didn’t seem to be deterring Nash in the least. He hawked a sticky sludge in her eyes to which she instinctively closed, screaming in distress. “I’ll deal with you in a minute . . .” she heard Nash whisper in her ear, then was chucked to the ground.

    Shakily, Fall returned to his feet. Nash could tell from the Flareon’s fatigue this fight was entering its final phase.

    “Try not to faint on me, junior,” Nash sneered. “I want you struggling when I kill you . . .”

    Bellowing, Fall catapulted himself into a Quick Attack. It was the move Nash most expected and was ready for, swing kicking Fall in mid leap. Fall didn’t get up but did resort to firing an Ember, hundreds of red-orange embers dancing like fireflies in a small stream of heat — Nash sprang backwards, out of the way, and spat Sludge Bomb at Fall, the ball of foul muck landing a direct hit to his head and concealing him in the black smoke of its explosion.

    Dawn and Simon, the only two yet to bury their faces in another Eevee’s fur, cried out for their eldest brother.

    Nash confidently walked up to the thinning smoke amidst where Fall lay. A strong purple flush ran above Fall’s muzzle, and he was baring his teeth in groans of pain; Nash recognized the symptoms of poison; whatever energy the Flareon had left the poison would gradually sap away. Whereas poisoning from moves such as Sludge Bomb could not compare with the potency of pure venoms, for instance neurotoxins and atracotoxins, a Pokémon would still suffer pernicious effects for up to a month unless cured; and it wasn’t unheard of for Pokémon, even fit and strong ones, to succumb to poisoning. . . .

    Nash took him in a choking hold and pressed him into the ground, enjoying the Flareon’s squirms.

    “Disappointing,” Nash droned, lightly shaking his head. “Perhaps Vasco just pities the weak — that’s why he let you go. But I’m not him. . . . So, which way d’you wanna go? Same as your bitch mother . . . or claw through the heart like I’ll do with her?” He looked to a blinded Glacia, wiping uselessly at the thick, sticky substance.

    Everything went red. Fall was gone. He was something else entirely.

    Rage controlled him, a storm of strength seeing him tear Nash’s hand from his throat. Pain much worse than claws piercing to bone immediately engulfed Nash’s whole face, yet his screams were overwhelmed by the roar escaping with fire from Fall’s mouth.

    Nash stumbled backward, flames clinging to his face; Fall pounced him to the ground, his claws puncturing the frog’s vocal sac as he stood over him. Like a crazed beast, Fall clawed at Nash’s eyes, stabbing them . . . ripping them . . . the Toxicroak’s screams for mercy going unanswered . . . Fall never even heard Dawn’s horror-stricken scream, ending his mauling at bleeding eye sockets. . . .

    Nash’s helpless sobs did nothing to move Fall, who yelled, “DIIIEEE!” blasting another Flamethrower in his face. So long as Nash wailed, Fall blazed and scorched him, to the point he smelt cooking meat. . . . Flames swam into Nash’s mouth, silencing him. Finally, his twitching limbs relaxed and became motionless. . . .

    Virtually moribund with exhaustion, Fall collapsed to the ground. Calmness flowed in with every breath as he lay there beside the dead Toxicroak, his mind blank, watching heat shimmer off what remained of Nash’s face.

    “F-Fall . . . ?” said a timid voice, but Fall did not acknowledge. A dark blue paw reached for him, however he got up before Glacia could touch him.

    “That was for Mum. . . .” Fall whispered, his cold stare still on his first kill.

    Glacia avoided the roasted face when looking at the body. Though she had wiped her eyes thoroughly, much sludge clogged her vision and was starting to sting. She averted her head with a fearful whimper, catching an unpreventable glimpse of Nash’s grisly countenance. Fall hadn’t so much as cringed at the repulsive sight — a child, disturbingly, dark with hate: He turned to his sister and raised a paw to her eyes, wiping each clearer of gunk but smearing her with blood.

    “Don’t be scared,” he said gently.

    Glacia reopened her eyes, looking nothing but scared. “You . . . y-you killed him!” she blurted.

    “And he’s burning in Hell, exactly where he belongs. . . .” Fall did not take his sister inching back a step as a hint he was worrying her. “I’d do it again to save you . . . and you’d do the same for —” He bared his teeth, face screwed up, and moaning in suffering.

    Glacia’s instincts to help overcame her.

    “Fall!” she yelped, supporting him as he sat down. “W-what is it? What’s wrong?”

    “. . . Poisoned . . .” he rasped, his breathing laboured.

    The Glaceon stiffened, forgetting about her brother’s unsettling behaviour completely. “Q-quick — tell me how I help!”

    “Pecha berries don’t grow in this forest. . . . I . . . I need a doctor . . .”

    “What about herbs?” Glacia gibbered. “Are there any kinds of plants that — ?”

    “I’ll last until the next town!” Fall growled, making her flinch as he returned to his feet. “Christ, I was poisoned a few minutes ago, not hours!”

    Glacia lowered her head in shame. “S-sorry . . .” she said quietly.

    “Well come on, then,” said Fall impatiently, getting back on the move; Glacia quickly followed him, certainly not wanting to be alone with the corpse. “The sooner we’re out the better.”

    The Eevee siblings closed up like their Flareon brother was a scary stranger; he passed them without sparing a glance, vanishing in the forest’s gloom. Glacia tried to get them along, but it wasn’t happening. They were frightened, confused, and distraught; Rose was crying again, and Glacia suspected she needed feeding, Dawn and Simon were competing for Glacia’s attention, their panicked questions melding in all the bedlam . . . Summer just wanted her mummy . . .

    “Hurry it up!” Fall suddenly barked, re-emerging from the trees. Silence sealed everyone’s lips as they turned to the frowning Flareon. He walked over to them. “Do I have to carry you?” he demanded of Dawn, his heavy breaths out of fatigue more than frustration. The Eevee pulled back, timidly shaking her head. “So stand up, and get the lead out. Summer, Raina, on my back,” he ordered, stamping down some discipline. “Glacia will carry Eclipse. Simon and Dawn, you’re to stay with her or myself at all times — absolutely no straying.”

    Nothing could have been further from the Eevees’ minds. All they wanted was an end . . . to be safe, indoors, warm, and if Fall could bring about that comfort by God they were going to listen.

    Nervously, Raina and Summer climbed onto Fall’s back, Summer small enough to nestle herself in his fluffy mane. After Glacia crouched down to let Eclipse on, she opened her mouth to tell Fall they had no way of feeding Rose, but he said, “Follow me,” and then grabbed the Eevee cub’s scruff. She settled a little, not crying as loudly. Fall plainly wasn’t concerning himself with Rose’s needs, ignoring her as he headed back into the forest. Glacia hesitated a moment, her sad gaze falling on Dawn and Simon before trudging after him.

 

    Night ticked by, none of the family knowing the current time, or how long they had spent wandering this forest. Their pace had been slow and steady, minimizing the risk of sustaining any more injuries, though stepping on fallen tree branches or tripping on vines was virtually unavoidable. Fall would have preferred to go faster than they were, but it was his own physical condition holding them up. Not that anyone else minded, much rather keeping the going easy and not disagreeing the few times Fall suggested they rest.

    The constant surrounding movements and noises of the forest left everyone on high alert. Often they would never see the creatures rustling in bushes, or find the hooting Hoothoot in its tree. These Pokémon, Fall guessed, were likely wild, but he couldn’t be certain of dangerous species living in this part of the forest; this far from Appleage the possibility was very real. If there were, nocturnal predators might well be on the prowl for their next meal . . . young Eevees easy pickings.

    Wild Pokémon lived off instinct, sharing a predator and prey relation with each other — no morals, laws, remorse — killing was simply a part of daily life, living the way nature intended. And long before the first communities were founded and Pokémon came together in mutual collaboration, you were born “wild,” knowing nothing better than the survival of yourself and reproduction. Today, of course, it was a choice, the greater side of Tavolous’s population choosing a civilized life, the swinging point for this post the War of Life’s Defiance over a thousand years ago, when, according to history, a Weavile named Tarquin commanded a huge army to seize the region but fell against a Dragonite by the name of Georgios. From the time records in Tavolous began, no other war was as long and bloody, the number of deceased, horribly, exceeding one million over five decades.

    Tarquin viewed the growing liaison between natural enemies as an abominable contravention to the purpose of carnivore and herbivore, despising the advances in agriculture and science. He wasn’t alone in this, but he had the mind to put an end to it. Beginning with little more than a few hundred followers, Tarquin attacked and destroyed smaller settlements, killing the inhabitants to send society a message its new world was at war. Tarquin’s numbers increased with each attack, more and more wild Pokémon committing themselves to his cause; some Pokémon were even radicalized, turning feral and faithfully serving under the Weavile’s command.

    In the space of a few years, Tarquin went from leader of a terrorizing horde to commander of a formidable army. Although wild Pokémon made up the bulk, renegades also came to Tarquin, criminals of society on the run for their acts. Some had made the journey from different regions.

    The fate of society hung in the balance. Verculum, Tavolous’s biggest populace, stood as the last hope and stronghold, Tarquin crushing all other resistance. Six mayors who had escaped during their town or city’s destruction made up Verculum’s defence tactics, the city’s own mayor, Georgios, elected to govern operations. Tarquin knew taking Verculum meant risking great loss on his side, even with the amount of Pokémon he had; the city was excellently fortified to withstand aerial and ground assaults. Furthermore, his enemies had two advantages: Starving the city was a strategy he could not draw on like he’d done with some other cities, for Verculum sustained itself through growing fruit and vegetables behind the safety of its four, impregnable stone walls, water sourced out of wells and hand watering pumps. The carnivorous Pokémon were given permission to exit the city and hunt at their own risk, a process of giving their names to city guards (who would write them down on paper lists) when leaving and then confirming their identification upon returning.

    Having those resources enabled them to wait for as long as need be, giving Tarquin little choice but to bring the fight to their doorstep — a move that could cost his undoing. If he attacked head-on his enemies would have the cover and protection of the city; likely they’d hit him with long-ranged attacks, injuring and killing many of his people before he breached their defences. Tarquin considered a possible sneak attack underground, but every day he spent planning with his advisors he was losing bodies.

    It was the second advantage society had.

    Tarquin’s army consisted of carnivores, herbivores, and omnivores — most of them wild. Sure, they were following Tarquin for shared reasons, even fought alongside one another, however a hungry predator still had to eat . . . war didn’t change that. Separate camps meant nothing with rule-free movement, no restrictions keeping the Pokémon in check.

    Research any book of Verculum City’s history and they’ll all tell of the Battle of Verculum, where Georgios pulled his people through Tarquin’s surprise attack on the night of March eighth, claiming a crucial victory in the war his rebellion would, ultimately, win almost forty years after his death.

    Nowadays, most historians dismissed the legend of darker forces — specifically, Black Nex — being the true cause of the war. Much older books, some dating back five hundred years, told otherwise, each with a different view on why the Origin God of Justice turned on society and why he contacted Tarquin, but more or less arrived at the same end: shaping the world to his will.

    Fall halted, inspecting his surroundings cautiously, ears vertical and rotating. Satisfied the area was safe, he put Rose, now asleep, down and let his knackered body lie.

    “. . . It’s all right . . .” he told his family between breaths, shutting his eyes. “We can rest here for a bit . . .”

    The family were grateful to have quenched their thirsts at a hidden glade they stumbled across during their last break. There had been multiple waterholes of varying sizes, possibly they were made by burrowing Pokémon. Fortunately, no predators had been around, just some drinking Ledyba that got spooked when the Eevees approached for a drink and an Oddish pair. With difficulty, Glacia washed most of the sludge off, small blobs of it stubbornly stuck in her dangles of hair; Fall cleaned the blood out of his paws. Here, the encirclement of bushes bore the first berries they had found, hundreds and hundreds of the red things waiting for consumption. Simon had been eager to eat some, but Fall stopped him, the Flareon sure they were inedible and possibly poisonous. When Fall made the call to keep going, they left even hungrier than when they had arrived.

    Glacia whispered to Eclipse on her back, waking him up. The Eevee’s eyes closed up again as he yawned and slid off her, freeing her to sit down. Using his sense of touch, Eclipse found and curled against her, continuing to sleep as though nothing had interrupted him. For him, Raina, and Summer, the bumpy, unending travelling depleted their little batteries. Both girls slept in maximum comfort, now and when riding on their fluffy Flareon brother.

    “Glace, I’m hungry . . .” whined Simon.

    Right then, a twisting pain in Glacia’s stomach reminded her she was running on empty also. Nobody had eaten anything in hours, but Glacia chose to ignore this problem a little while longer, worried more about Fall’s condition.

    “Is there no end to this stinking forest?” she said hopelessly, staring hatefully up at the foliage.

    Fall did not answer, chin laid flat and snuffles stirring dust, a dried leaf rhythmically rocking in place inches from his nose.

    “What kind of useless forest can’t even grow Pecha berries, anyway!” Glacia snapped. “Dawn, come here this instant!” she scolded her Eevee sister, whom was sniffing the air around some bushes after picking up a faint food scent.

    “I can smell something sweet,” said Dawn, a paw raised cutely as she looked around at Glacia. She pointed with her nose. “That way.”

    “Is it berries?” asked Simon enthusiastically, running to her, his tail like a feather duster in an attic of cobwebs.

    Glacia went over to smell for herself, Eclipse moaning ever so weakly at losing his shelter source. Dawn was right, a sweet scent was wafting downwind through the bushes.

    “Come on — !” chirped Simon, intending to spring into a run but hit the ground (“Oof!”) as Glacia brought a paw down on his bushy tail.

    “No, Simon,” Glacia reprimanded him. “Both of you wait here. I’ll go and check it out.”

    Dawn looked worried.

    “Don’t,” she urged. “Not by yourself.”

    “The scent isn’t far, and I’ll be careful.” Glacia’s resolve didn’t seem to allay her sister’s concerns, but she did not challenge the Glaceon’s decision further. Saying nothing more, Glacia padded off, Dawn sitting down anxiously after her rhombus-like tail disappeared around the bush.

    The undergrowth swamped the air with a hotchpotch of smells, making tracking the aroma hard. Regardless, Glacia trusted her nose, letting it guide her through the semi-darkness whilst being mindful of her surroundings. She tried to keep her path as direct as could be; occasionally she would set a paw on a tree trunk and freeze a small bit of it, the blocks of shining ice a trail if she lost her way. The scent grew gradually stronger, as did Glacia’s hopes. Ahead, a large, moss-covered log blocked her way. Whatever it was she was smelling, it was coming from beyond this obstacle. Jumping over it did not appeal to her . . . then again, nor did muscling through dense, thorny bushes either. She sighed and crouched.

    With some pre-jump head bobs, she leapt straight over the log — into a pool of mud.

    “Yyyuuuck! Ugh . . .” she groaned, heaving herself onto dry soil.

    Her paws and legs were caked in rank mud, dots splattered on her face, along her underside, and her tail. Cleansing promptly began, shaking and wiping the mud off until she noticed her mother’s necklace mud-spattered. Dejection pushed cares about how filthy she was to the back of her mind. She sat cleaning the snowflake necklace on her chest fur when she broke into tears, the whole night’s excruciation burning like wildfire in her head.

    It took the bereaved Glaceon a few seconds to hear the rustling being made by another forest Pokémon nearby. Sniffling, she spotted what, at first, she thought was an Eevee, but soon realized it wasn’t. Whatever it was it was smaller than her, so she moved closer for a better look. The creature had the same brown and cream colour fur as an Eevee but looked nowhere near as silken, rather spiny and coarse with a most bizarre zigzagging pattern. From what she could see of its face, black fur spanning its eyes reminded her of masked bandits in an episode of her favourite TV show. Glacia was certain it was aware of her presence, yet it continued to feed on dark purple berries growing closest to the ground on a bush. Glacia recognized the drupels of Bluk berries, having shopped with her mother enough times to know the fruit was edible; she liked their sweetness and succulence.

    Seeing as there was plenty to go around, she approached the shrub, leaving a sizable gap between her and the Zigzagoon. As fast as an Arbok’s strike, the raccoon turned to her with a vicious snarl, running across in zigzags and cutting her off. Glacia stopped in her tracks, shocked and confused at his flick knife aggression.

    “Back off!” he spat, further shocking her. She had no idea wild Pokémon were capable of speech, assuming, going by what her parents and some of the other adults in Appleage had told her, all of them to be primitives with unpredictable behaviour. “This here’s all mine,” he growled. “Find someplace else to eat.”

    “You . . . know how to talk?” Glacia had to ask him, but the Zigzagoon only seemed more annoyed. His fur tautened.

    “I’m gonna count to five, and if you’re not gone by then. . . . One . . .” counted the Zigzagoon.

    “Hold on, that’s not fair!” protested Glacia.

    “. . . two . . .”

    “What about the ones you can’t reach? Can I at least —”

    “— three . . .”

    “You’re being totally selfish! Even Snorlax aren’t this greedy!”

    “. . . four . . .”

    “All right, all right, I’m going!” submitted Glacia, turning and walking away, muttering a rude comment. When she reached the mud she’d landed in, she glanced around to see the Zigzagoon already eating. Now that she had found an abundance of food she and the others needed badly, there was no way she was giving it up . . . she’d return. . . .

    “She went where?!”

    Dawn and Simon cowered to the ground at Fall’s outburst. The world was full of many terrors to be scared of . . . but family . . . Dawn could not imagine for a single moment ever feeling scared of a relation. Sadly, she didn’t need to imagine it.

    “T-t-to go l-look for f-food. . . .” she faltered, actually shaking.

    “By herself?” Fall exclaimed. “There could be anything lurking around here!”

    “F-Fall, I’m s-sorry . . .” said Dawn fretfully. “I-I should’ve stopped her.”

    Fall sighed and breathed, “Jesus . . .” whilst looking in the direction of forest Glacia had gone. “Okay,” he said to the Eevees. “Stick with me and do not call for her. Last thing we want is a predator hearing us . . . do you understand?”

    Nervously, they nodded.

    Fall approached the sleeping forms of Raina, Eclipse, Summer, and Rose, cosily bundled together. He opened his mouth to wake them when his ears alerted him to footsteps. Despite his poor health, a tiny surge of adrenaline told Fall he had some fight left. Showing his teeth, he bent down defensively . . .

    “Guys?” came Glacia’s voice, the Glaceon herself rounding the thicket.

    “Glace!” chirped Simon and Dawn, bolting to her as Fall relaxed. “How did you get all dirty?” Simon questioned, rubbing the thin layer of mud up Glacia’s foreleg.

    “Never mind that,” said Glacia distractedly. “I need your help. There’s a —”

    “What in blazes were you thinking!” said Fall, nearing her. Simon and Dawn repositioned on either side of their sister. “Thought you’d ignore everything I said about the dangers? Anything could’ve happened!”

    “Yes, I know,” Glacia returned irritably. “I shouldn’t’ve and I’m sorry, but I found some Bluk berries like real close.”

    “Really?” beamed Simon.

    “Thing is, a wilder’s hogging them all to itself.”

    “Figures,” muttered Fall with a roll of his eyes.

    “It isn’t gonna back down without a fight,” Glacia added, a hint of regret in her voice.

    Dawn had a suggestion. “C-can’t we just share?”

    “Tried that approach.” Glacia shook her head. “Wasn’t interested.”

    “Sounds about right,” shrugged Fall. “Ferals look out for number one — everyone else is either competition or predator.”

    Simon’s tummy grumbled audibly.

    “I’m so hungry it hurts!” he complained, eyes screwed up. “Where’s the food?”

    “Easy, pal, we’re going,” said Fall. “Glacia, reckon you can carry Summer as well this time?”

    The Glaceon agreed, figuring the poison was beginning to weaken him. Raina and Summer woke without fuss, Fall coaxing Raina onto his back and Glacia doing the same with Summer; Fall grabbed Rose’s scruff, grateful she stayed sound. Eclipse, however, stubbornly refused to unfold himself, growling as Glacia nudged him.

    “Oh, Eclipse, please don’t get like this . . .” moaned Glacia. “Come on, you must be hungry. Just climb on and we’ll —”

    “I wanna go home!” cried Eclipse.

    Glacia embraced her sobbing brother, resisting tears of her own, wanting to stay strong for her family.

    “We can’t,” she whispered. She set a paw under his chin and tilted his head so their gazes met. “I know it’s hard to understand, but you’ve got to be brave . . . we all must. . . .”

    It was definitely for the best the Eevees not know the truth . . . what Glacia and Fall witnessed. The six younger siblings had been too frightened at that moment Acacia was fatally wounded to watch, Glacia ensuring none of them saw their Glaceon mother bleeding to death thereupon. Glacia’s biggest concern lay with Dawn and Simon. Although they had not seen what happened, they were, however, old enough to comprehend their mother was dead, and that their father abandoned them.

    After talking Eclipse around, Glacia led on to the Bluk bush, melting ice on a couple of trees helping to guide the family. Before long a log obstructed further progress.

    “The berries are just over this log,” said Glacia, keeping her voice down. “But don’t jump right over it; there’s a lot of mud on the other side, I found that out for myself . . .”

    The smallest flicker of a smile tweaked at Dawn’s lips.

    Glacia told Eclipse and Summer to hold on tight, advising Raina to do the same since Fall couldn’t speak carrying Rose. Glacia hopped up first, then Fall, followed by Simon and lastly Dawn. A part of Glacia was glad the Zigzagoon hadn’t gone; there was a dark satisfaction in her grin as the raccoon spun around to look at her.

    “How’s the weather down there, shorty?” Glacia jibed. “What’s wrong?” She leapt clear of the mud patch, the others quickly joining her. The Zigzagoon stepped back. “Yeah, not so hard when you’re outnumbered.”

    Fall freed Rose from his jaws.

    “Our family is hungry, and there’s more berries here than you can eat,” he said to the wild Zigzagoon, who made his thoughts on the matter plain in a nervous growl. “I don’t want to fight you for them,” Fall went on, hoping in some way to appeal to the Zigzagoon’s better nature, but chose to end on a threatening note to assert himself, “but if that’s what it takes I will.”

    At this point, the Zigzagoon seemed torn between fight and flight. Despite his potential adversary’s size, Fall knew tangling with an adult wild Pokémon was highly dangerous. Possibly this one understood the Flareon’s purple flush was a sign of poisoning, a bad handicap to bring into battle. If Fall were in good trim he’d be attacking now, not inwardly hoping numbers would intimidate the Zigzagoon into a retreat.

    All of a sudden, the Zigzagoon’s eyes widened, his attention shooting skyward. Fall had moved forward a second earlier but he didn’t think that was cause for the Zigzagoon’s alarm. On top of that . . . why was he scanning the trees for . . . ? Fall’s stomach sunk, realizing only one thing could agitate a feral this way.

    “We’re exposed . . .” he whispered fearfully, raking his stare slowly through the trees. Glacia seemed at sea. Turning to her, Fall said, “We need to get —”

    He caught a sweeping motion above him and turned to see a huge owl dive-bombing the Zigzagoon, who noticed too late. The Zigzagoon bolted like a rocket; he almost made it to the undergrowth and safety when the Noctowl’s talons skewered flesh, piercing between its prey’s ribs for maximum hold. The family watched in horror — almost all of them screaming — while the Noctowl pecked a hole in the back of the Zigzagoon’s neck, blood splashed up with some strikes.

    “RUN!” Fall yelled at his family, snatching up Rose and sprinting past the predatory bird. It had no interest in hunting anymore, fanning its wings and effortlessly transporting its lifeless meal to a thick tree branch. There it de-furred the Zigzagoon, removing clumps of fur with its beak prior to eating.

    Fortune had favoured the family on this occasion . . . But what they didn’t know was another Noctowl in the vicinity was on the look for a final kill before the new day’s light, eyes glowing red using Foresight to track them. . . .

    Fear for their lives drove the family on. They tore through the forest in a straight line, caution thrown to the wind, even Fall disregarding how much noise they were making; grabbing Rose so rashly had set her off crying again. Raina scrunched up her eyes and flattened herself as Fall ran under a slumping tree trunk. They twisted in and out of trees, bounding over taller plant tuffets, Glacia and Fall finding it increasingly demanding and soon simply ploughed through instead, harsh leaves smarting their faces; Fall would raise Rose to the best height he could, though sometimes plants snagged her tail and got knotted. It was when the trees began to space apart the undergrowth receded. Rainwater collected in mud puddles, leaving the soil damp at best and sludgy at worst.

    Glacia, Dawn, and Simon had all been dropping further behind Fall, and when the bog did nothing to slow his pace, Glacia called out.

    “Fall! This is far enough — !”

    She jammed on the brakes to a scream and slosh behind her. Fall too had heard the commotion and whipped around, finding Dawn in a heap. The Eevee must have slipped, unfortunately into the dirtiest bath she’d yet taken.

    “Are you okay?” said Glacia in a motherly tone, helping her sister up with a paw. Glacia saw tears building in her eyes, but, admirably, she just sniffed and nodded, humming, “Mm-hmm.”

    Taking a minute to regain their breath, Simon noticed a dull, grey-blue wall of light, beyond which he could not see. Wait . . . that was . . . sunlight, he realized. Positivity re-energized him and he stood up, tail wagging. Looking back at his less-observant brothers and sisters, he started, “Glace, lookie! C’mon, let’s hur —”

    What then happened made Glacia jump. In the perpetuity of a split second, she watched in a stupor the horror taking place mere feet away. A giant Noctowl had Simon in its razor-sharp claws, pressing the panicked Eevee into the mud, pecking at his dirty mane . . . a repeat of the other Noctowl’s killing technique. The bird ignored Glacia’s piercing scream and Dawn’s cry of “SIMON!” Full paralysis gripped Glacia’s body, too shocked to act —

    The apex predator released Simon with a squawk, wings flailing as it stumbled backwards out of range of Fall’s short, explosive, blast of flame. Simon got to his feet, wide-eyed and gasping fast, physically and mentally examining himself for injuries. To his relief, excepting shaking like mad, he could feel nothing wrong.

    “MOVE!” bellowed Fall. For the umpteenth time, he grabbed a mouthful of Rose’s scruff and forced his legs, screaming with ache, into run mode; Glacia had to bump Simon up the backside to get him to run.

    Staying together, they hurried for the heavenly light promising freedom from this accursed forest, slippery mud no match for their wills. The light seemed to be taking an age to reach: Fall’s vision blurred and he felt his brain switch off, now running unthinkingly. None of them gambled speed for a glance back, even the three Eevees riding aboard Fall and Glacia daring not.

    Their paws adjusted automatically to the hardening ground. Puffing and panting, the gleam in their eyes brightened growingly, white light reeling them in until they disappeared. . . .

    A cool, early morning breeze riffled their fur. Barely out of the forest, Fall tripped over his own feet — Rose gave a sharp mewl as Fall bit down unintentionally — and crashed on his side; Raina was flung into a roll off of him. Fall dropped his crying baby sister with a hurting grunt. Although he had hurt Rose it was the lesser of two evils, very easily the total opposite could have happened and she would have been sent hurling, ending up like Raina and worse off.

    They’d made it to the edge of a small town. Strong orange bloomed above the horizon, blending with the dreary sky; sunrise was minutes away.

    Half-asleep, Ellen thought she could hear the distinctive sound of a baby crying. The old Ivysaur’s eyes opened and she pointed her head in the direction of her bedroom windows. Waking up at this time wasn’t unusual for Ellen, but what was unusual was being woken up. The Ivysaur got to her feet and walked to the edge of her empty, king sized bed. To cross the gap between the bed and an ottoman set by the curtained windows, she extended from the pale pink bud on her back two, dark green vines (one either side), pressed them to the floor, and used them to sail onto the ottoman. After using them to draw the curtains, she pulled in her vines and peered out the window.

    The view from her bedroom overlooked the trees of the adjoining forest. It was a sight she was so familiar with that inappreciable differences to anyone else were as significant as a new colour scheme to her, so when she saw a group of distraught children her mouth fell open. Was she seeing this right?

    “What’re —” she instinctively called to them, lifting a paw to the window and realizing at once they would never hear her.

    Turning herself around, she tentatively descended the ottoman and trotted at the highest speed her old bones granted these days out the room.

    “Raina!” cried Glacia, hurrying to the still Eevee’s side. “You’re gonna be fine.” It saddened Glacia these words and a quick rub of Raina’s cheek were all the comfort she could give her sister, now looking up at her with lost, brown eyes.

    At Glacia’s instructions, Dawn sat cuddling Rose, shushes and head strokes gradually calming the littler Eevee, who was sobbing into Dawn’s chest.

    Accompanied by Raina, Glacia jogged over to Fall. He lay where he’d landed, Simon, Summer, and Eclipse gathered around him. The first thing to grab Glacia’s attention was the Flareon’s shallowed breathing. She guessed overexertion had sped up the poison’s effects to take a drastic toll . . . She needed to find him a doctor — fast.

    The tornado of panic in her head gained strength in the form of a bird screech. Six heads flew to the same Noctowl that had moments ago attacked them. It glared down on them through shrewd, narrowed eyes as it hovered, frustration in every wingbeat.

    At that point, the sun broke the horizon and the owl, whom was facing it, glowed like a living beacon, marks of singed feathers on its front suddenly highlighted. Powerless to help, Fall watched as Glacia, wordlessly, took his role as protector and stepped forward, willing to lay down her life to defend her family . . . “N — n-no . . .” whispered Fall desperately.

    To Fall’s horror, he saw Glacia flinch as the Noctowl launched itself into a beak-dive at her. It threw out its feet, talons wide for the kill —

    Without warning, an orange blanket of sparkling powder was blown into the Noctowl’s path. The bird inhaled a lungful of the substance as it passed through in a fluster: Its wings locked up and it fell to earth with a thump.

    “Children!” shouted a woman’s voice. The family promptly looked around to see their rescuer had been an aged Ivysaur. Two telltale signs of her age, Glacia noted, rested in her pink bud — much paler in value when mentally compared with most other Ivysaur Glacia had seen — and in her fronds growing outwards around the bud, all of which were shrivelled and drained of vibrancy. “My house,” the old Pokémon said with a hurried glance back at her brick home, “you’ll be safe in there.” And without waiting for their acceptance, she extended two vines, wrapped them around Fall, picked him up, and pulled him in.

    As his blurry world darkened, Fall heard the Ivysaur holding him say something about the senselessness of fighting when they could run, then felt himself being carried off wherever, the seven shapes of his siblings following. . . .