22. Night Talks

The sun was starting to dip behind Mount Domo, casting deep shadows into the woods as Haru arrived home. Though she had steadily made her way back, she froze just outside the door, heart fluttering. Would Shimmer and Muse still be here, waiting to confront her? And what of Toshi and her parents? She’d skipped out on work after their spat, something that hadn’t happened in cycles. Just thinking about the coming earful was painful enough.

There was only one sensible thing to do.

Haru pushed through through the entry curtain and made straight for her room, replying to her mother’s greeting with little more than a grunt.

She paused again just inside. Her room was sparse; she’d never found much need for little trinkets and other specialty items. They were a waste of money. Though she had a shelf, it only held a few well-worn books and a couple old wood-whittled figures. She’d made one a few cycles back, part of a short-lived art experiment. The other was a gift from her grandfather.

She made a straight line for a nest tucked in the back corner of the room, passing a low desk along the way. There, she collapsed faced down, burying herself in the straw without bothering to take her bags off.

And she remained like that for some time. At some point, her father stopped in her doorway and tried to make conversation, but she just grunted at him. She was left alone after that.

But she couldn’t avoid her family forever. Eventually, the call for dinner forced her to climb to her paws. Only then did she bother slipping out of her bags and returning to the common room.

Toshi had already sat at the table, as had her dad. Her mom had prepped dinner tonight and was currently setting portions and drinks around the table. The scent of fresh bread and caramelized carrots sent her stomach rumbling.

She avoided her brother’s gaze as she took a seat across from him. A chunk of bread with dipping oil, a simple salad, and a few roasted veggies in a savory sauce were spread across the plate in front of her. A cup of water sat to the side, but a small dispenser of spiced oran wine was at the center of the table. She wondered if her parents brought it out for a special occasion, or if they planned to drink to forget everything going on in the village. She was tempted, herself, but she couldn’t run the risk of getting tipsy tonight. Not when she needed to get up early.

They ate in silence for a few moments, none wanting to broach the subject of her earlier behavior.

Her mom was the first to speak, her sentences punctuated between bites of food. “Well. You were right, Chip. That sneasel can do some good work. A shame he doesn’t apply himself. Perhaps things would have turned out better for him if he did.”

“Are you thinking of asking for his help again?” Chip asked. “‘Gigas knows we could use it right now.”

Haru groaned inwardly. Oh please no, she thought. I can’t deal with that right now. Just send him off to the Enforcers already. But she kept her thoughts to herself, not looking to bring any attention.

“Perhaps,” Saku answered. “His help came in handy today, considering we were short handed. Which reminds me…” Her gaze drifted to Haru, who shrank down behind the table. “Dear… You didn’t come back from your break. Toshi told us you ran off. What happened?”

“It was nothing important,” Haru answered quickly, paws digging into the fabric. “I just needed some fresh air. I went to town and then…” She trailed off, silently cursing herself. In all the excitement, then worry, she hadn’t bothered to come up with an excuse for tomorrow’s absence. If she was already being pestered about today, how was she supposed to explain running off with some explorers without sounding weird? If her parents knew the truth, they’d probably think she was going to the shrine out of spite and try to talk her out of it.

Was she going out of spite?

No. She was going to protect Toshi. That’s all.

“I got to talking with some travelers while I was there,” she began, mind racing as she formed the lie. Her stomach twisted with guilt. “And they asked me to help with a job. They needed some logging done down river and I offered to help out.” She fought the urge to cringe. Now that she said it, the story sounded pretty weak.

“Travelers, huh?” Chip asked, pulling a bowl of wine closer. “You wouldn’t happen to mean that group of explorers staying at the inn, would you?”

Haru swallowed and forced a smile. “Those are the ones. They were looking at setting up a camp. More of an outpost really. I don’t think the village would agree to let them build one here, Jhorlo least of all. But no one owns the woods outside the village. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have one nearby in case of emergencies, you know?”

“Sure,” Chip answered carefully. “But it has the potential to take away business from old Meaad. We see Society teams more often than we do any other type of traveler, save maybe merchants. Why would they come here if they got their own place?”

“Well, they wouldn’t have a hot, fresh meal if they’re out in the woods,” Saku pointed out.

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Toshi said, eyes sparkling. “Think about how much we could learn if there’s more permanent teams in the area! I wish I was going instead.”

Haru’s stomach twisted again. She hated how easily the lie had come, but at the same time, Toshi’s reaction made her all the more certain she was doing the right thing by hiding the truth.

The conversation shifted to questions about Shimmer and Muse’s wellbeing, then other topics that Haru didn’t care to chime in on. Her attention drifted in and out as she picked at her food, her appetite waning.

Dinner ended with the last rays of sunlight. Chip excused himself to take his herbs, and Toshi retreated to his room to read. Only Haru and her mother remained.

Just as Haru opened her mouth to excuse herself, Saku said, “Would you be a dear and help me clean up?”

Haru bit back a sigh. She should be getting to bed, considering she needed to rise early. But there was no use in debating her mom. If she tried to argue that she could make her own decisions, her mom would point out that she wasn’t the homeowner, and that meant she had to help out around the house. Standing on her hind paws, she reached out across the table to gather up the dishes. Saku handed her a jar of luminous moss before taking the dishes, then the two of them staggered outside.

They stopped at the edge of the dam, pushing through the reeds until they were in the muddy shallows. A large stone stuck out along the edge, the top dry. There, they placed their burdens. Haru and Saku each took one of the ceramic plates and dunked them into the water.

“Is everything okay, Haru?”

Saku’s question caught her off guard. She froze for a heartbeat, wide-eyed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t they be?” She fought to keep the unease out of her voice.

Saku looked down at the water for a moment, silent. “Well… It’s just… you’ve been acting strange lately, dear. Ever since that Sneasel showed up. When he first appeared, you were so interested in showing him around. I thought it great, since you rarely get out. But then he… well, you know.”

It was clear her mom didn’t want to bring up Nip’s heinous act. And it made Haru wonder: if it bothered her so much, then why was she willing to work with him?

But she didn’t get a chance to voice her thoughts, as her mom just kept plowing on. “And then you ran off with your friends into a dungeon—a dungeon—to apprehend him. I would have expected it out of Toshi, what with his adventurous streak. But you? I would have thought you’d avoid it, or try to talk them down.”

“I did try,” Haru argued. “I just figured… it was better if I went with them, to keep them out of trouble.”

“Even the second time?” Saku pressed. It seemed that was a rhetorical question, because she continued, “But it wasn’t just that. Since then, you’ve been in a foul mood—don’t think I haven’t noticed. And now you’re running off with strangers. Is there something wrong? You know you can talk to me, right?”

Haru fought to control her annoyance, then wondered why she was so annoyed. “Well, I’m not really running off with strangers,” she said. “I’m running off to do a job for strangers. I think there’s a difference there. As for the other stuff…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath. Surely her mom could understand her anger?

“I went into Sunglow Thicket for two reasons. I already said the first. The second time, I wanted to make sure Nip faced proper judgment, instead of being offed by someone willing to take hostages just to get to him. He was brought back, all but admitted to the destruction of several eggs—most of them maliciously—and then got nothing more than community service. Surely you can understand why I’m frustrated?”

Saku sat her rinsed dishes on the stone, then pushed out further into the water, disappearing beneath the rippling surface. Haru remained in the shallows, blinking. But her mother returned a minute later, expression pensive. She gestured for Haru to follow her out. With a sigh, the rest of the dishes were cast aside, and Haru slipped into the cool water.

There was no danger in this small pool, created by their own handiwork. And there would be no prying ears in the center.

“I do understand,” Saku said once Haru joined her. “But I also know much of your behavior is unhealthy. Toshi told me about how you left earlier, though he wouldn’t go into the details.” The bibarel tilted her head upwards, gazing at the stars. Her wet fur glistened in the moonlight. “Whatever’s going on, I can’t force you to tell me. But I want you to know that I’m here, if you ever need to talk.”

Treading water, Haru turned so that she was facing her mother. She struggled to find her words. How was her behavior unhealthy? Sure, she’d been quick to anger recently. She could admit as much. But surely that anger was justified? “I know,” she finally said. “I’m still figuring some of it out for myself. But if I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Good girl,” her mother replied. “Now, we should get to bed. We wouldn’t want to catch a chill!” Her tail slapped the surface of the water, and she dove, reappearing back in the shallows. Haru followed behind slowly. She stopped for a moment to load the dishes onto her mother’s tail. Then they both went inside.

Haru lay awake for some time after that, tossing and turning in her nest. Worry gnawed at her as she went over the conversation with her mom. Should she tell her mom the truth? About where she was going?

No. It would only worry her more. And the last thing she wanted was to worry her.

Soon, she drifted into a fitful sleep.

---

Once again, an endless expanse of water stretched out before Nip, mimicking the orange of the cloudless sky. The fur on the back of his neck prickled as he walked through the shallows, sending ripples on the otherwise still surface. He was vaguely aware that he was dreaming, and that it was the same dream that he’d had countless times. But he couldn’t fathom why he was here again.

The same hill from his previous dreams—the one with the dying tree—appeared in the distance, the tree’s branches spreading wide like outstretched claws. Involuntarily, he sped up, light on his feet as he raced towards the hill. Every time he dreamed of this place, he always fell into deep water before he reached it—and he’d had the dream several times since Celebi’s appearance. The last thing he wanted was to wake up from the sensation of water filling his lungs, choking the life out of him.

But as he approached, the water remained shallow, only reaching his ankles. His pace slowed as he reached the base of the hill.

Tall grass waved in an imperceptible breeze. Beams of dying sunlight poked between the branches of the tree, dappling the grass with golden pools. He slunk up the soggy bank and into the neck-deep blades, climbing until he reached the base of the tree.

Thin ashen bark peppered the base of the tree, cracked and peeling away to reveal pale wood beneath. The bark thinned away further up the twisting trunk, disappearing around the gnarled branches. No leaves remained. Nip knew little about trees, but if this one wasn’t dead already, surely it was dying?

His attention shifted to its base, where roots poked up through the dirt. Nestled between two of these roots, something out of place caught his eye. A blood-colored feather. He picked it up.

The feather was nearly as long as his arm and mostly that deep blood color, tapering to a midnight black as it reached the afterfeather. Nip wracked his brain as he tried to come up with different pokemon the feather could have come from. It was too big for a sneasel, and they didn’t usually taper to black. Talonflame, maybe? But he didn’t think they had feathers this long, either. It would have to be an incredibly large one.

Then a long-buried memory of a lesson back in his old nesting grounds surfaced, and he pictured an old historic painting. Though the details faded with time, he could still picture the deep bloody feathers of a bird—his patron—perched on a tree with her wings spread wide.

“Yveltal?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, pulled away and made inaudible by a sudden gust of wind.

This feather belonged to Yveltal. It had to. Then was this the tree from the painting? It couldn’t be; it was old and wizened and dead. The tree in the painting was lush and vibrant. Covered with plant life and teeming with the spirits of the departed. This was a stark opposite.

He turned and raced away from the tree, fur bristling as he scanned the sky for any signs of his god. All the while calling out, “Yveltal! Yveltal I am here! Is this a vision? Is this something more? What do you need of me?”

A quiet splish-splash signaled that he had run back into the water. His foot caught on something just beneath the surface. Stumbling, he waved his arms wildly, but it was no use. With a yowl, he tumbled into the water. Deep into the water, as if the bank weren’t even there. An invisible current pulled him away from land, dragging him deeper and deeper into the depths. The feather spiraled up and away, leaving him behind in the darkness, lungs burning.

But he wasn’t alone.

The current swirled as a massive, dark figure swam around him. Vision blurred by water, he couldn’t see well. But as the figure came to a stop just above him, watching him sink, he could just make out the form of two great dark wings, and two bright blue eyes that glowed with some emotion he couldn’t place.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to gag and panic as he sucked in a lungful of water. No, not water. This fluid was thicker, more viscous, and had a familiar flavor. Yolk. He was drowning in egg yolk. He flailed, desperate to reach the surface, but his vision was fading fast. And soon, all he could make out were those two smoldering eyes.

Before the end, he heard a voice.

You do not belong…

---

Nip gasped awake, coughing and sputtering. He flailed in the darkness, rolling onto his belly as if to vomit up swallowed water. But nothing came.

Of course nothing came; it was just a nightmare. He was still in Theran village, hidden away in his cell.

Bits of straw clung to his fur as he sat up, blinking. His flailing had scattered his nest, leaving him exposed. As he looked around the dimly-lit room, he could see two pairs of eyes watching him. One was Tempest, his expression betraying worry. The other was tonight’s night guard, Anu.

He turned away from both of them, stood, and began to pace his small space, keeping his head low.

What was he supposed to make of his dream? He’d had it several times, but this time it was different. He’d found that feather… Yveltal’s feather, he was sure of it!

Did that make this more than a dream? A vision? He wasn’t a psychic. He’d never been gifted—or cursed, for that matter—with the power of prophecy. And yet, he’d had the same dream so many times; that had to mean something!

So what was he supposed to make of the ending? You do not belong. Who had said it? Yveltal? Was Yveltal abandoning him? Did Yeveltal even care about him to begin with?

A tiny, pathetic whimper escaped his lips as he scraped his claws together, catching on every nick and chip. Some of the damage came from hard labor, while other parts came from striking at his cell walls as he tried to calm his frazzled nerves. It wasn’t like he was using them for anything else, anyways. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hunted; it was some time before arriving here, in this cursed town that had destroyed his last shred of hope.

With another whimper, he slumped to the ground, cheek meeting the wood flooring.

“Having nightmares, are you, Nip?”

Anu’s question brought Nip out of his sulking. He turned his head so that he could see the lucario, but did not rise or otherwise reply.

“You were twitching and mewling in your sleep,” Anu continued. His tone was factual, neither accusatory nor comforting. The corner’s of his mouth twisted upwards. And for just a moment, Nip thought he might be enjoying his suffering. But the rest of his body language suggested otherwise. “Ah, please forgive me. I… do not mean to pry. It’s just…”

Anu took a deep breath. “I… I know you are religious. We spoke of your patron before. I don’t know how central Celebi is to your beliefs. B-but I know his appearance has left many of the faithful shaken. Celebi does not act like the myths say. What does that mean about the rest of the myths? About everything we grew up believing? If your nightmares are anything of that nature, I can’t say I blame you, but know that you are not alone.”

What do you know, Nip thought ruefully. Still, he sat up so that he could better look at Anu. And Tempest, for that matter. The ninetales watched from his own cell, tails slowly waving, almost hypnotic.

“I find it curious,” Anu continued, following Nip’s gaze. “Celebi’s appearance has affected you far more than it has Tempest. Why is that?”

Nip considered ignoring him. What good would it do to talk about this? But after a moment, he realized Anu was giving him something other than his dreams to focus on. Or trying to, at least.

“Tempest really should be the one telling you about this,” he began, shifting so that he was in a more comfortable position, “but I supposed that isn’t an option right now. Tempest wasn’t born to the Half-Moon tribe. Instead, he joined as an adult. He’s told me that, as a child, he belonged to a separate tribe from further north, a group of ice-types that worshiped the remains of the Original Dragon, Kyurem.

“Kyurem was not known to be kind to the living. At best, it was a callous defender of its followers. But some of their stories described it as openly malicious to mortals. And yet, they still followed it, because they believed themselves to be Kyurem’s chosen, the only ones that it looked after.” He glanced at Tempest. “Did I remember that correctly?”

Tempest dipped his head.

“How fascinating,” Anu said, shifting in place. He took a deep breath and held it for some time before continuing. “Perhaps I can use this to illustrate my point. From… From what you’ve told me, there are conflicting stories about this Kyurem. Some characterize it as a defender, others as something more sinister. And it’s hard to believe that both of these stories could be true. In fact, it’s entirely possible that they’re not. But there are more than two stories. I imagine there are countless tales.”

His paw came alight with aura as he waved it in the air. “I imagine there are many conflicting stories about Celebi, as well. The myths around here characterize him as a valiant hero, traveling through time to bring both the blessings and the curses of the future. He’s said to be noble and stalwart, and always having the interests of the good at heart.”

“Yes, that’s not too far from our stories,” Nip replied. “What is your point?”

“Well, we’ve now met Celebi, and know he exists. And we also know that the legends weren’t entirely correct. And yet, there are still morsels of truth based on what we’ve seen. He did come to warn us, a small village, of dangers, even if he went about it in a… strange way. And knowing that part of the story is true, we must find comfort in that.” Anu’s voice grew firm. “Perhaps we need to revisit our legends. Reevaluate what we hold true. But in the end, we still cannot know everything. And we will have to take some things on faith.”

Faith. That was easy for Anu to say. He wasn’t the one whose every decision, every justification for everything questionable he ever did, was shattered by the legends being wrong. Then he mentally berated himself for thinking like that. Anu had to contend with the cruelties of the world, too, and shaken beliefs made that harder.

“Thanks,” he finally said, “but… there’s more to it than that.”

“Oh?” Anu tilted his head, then scooted a little closer to the cell. “If you wish to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

“What?” Nip flinched and copied Anu’s expression, his ear twisting flat against his skull. “Why would you want to know? Do you wish to mock me?”

Anu was quiet for a moment. “I-if I’m speaking honestly, a part of me wants to. N-not mocking necessarily.” He held his paws up in a defensive gesture. “Just… Just let you wallow in your misery, r-rather.

“B-but I won’t!” He continued before Nip could reply. “Because I have a job to do. Despite everything, it would be unbecoming of me. I could yell and scream and hurt you, but it would go against everything I stand for.” A beat of silence followed. “And I hope—perhaps foolishly—that extending kindness to you will help you settle, and finally understand our way of life. And then, perhaps, you can be sent on your way.”

Nip’s anger dissipated, replaced with surprise. And confusion. His fur slowly lay flat, and the tension left his shoulders.

Anu watched him unblinkingly, then he turned his head and stood. “There… is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” he began. He turned and disappeared into a small room. A rustling sound followed, then he returned with a small bag in his paws, the long drawstring hanging down loosely.

“Here,” Anu said, passing the bag between the bars. “I remember you eyeing this a few days back. Consider it a… peace offering of sorts.”

Nip blinked, eying the bag cautiously. It certainly looked like the same bag, and it looked empty. But it made no sense.

“Why?“

Anu sighed, dropping the bag just inside Nip’s cell. “As I just said, holding a grudge would be hypocritical. I’ve… struggled to forgive you after what you did to my mate and I. But perhaps, with kindness, I can make you understand what it means to be a village pokemon. And perhaps I’ll be able to break the cycle of revenge.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then sat down with his back straight. “The law will punish you for what you did wrong. My duty is to guide you on how to be better. So. If you ever need to talk about matters of faith, or anything at all, I will do my best to listen and assist.”

For a moment, Nip stared at the bag laying at his paws, struggling to process his feelings. Based on everything he’d ever been taught, Anu shouldn’t be helping him, shouldn’t offer forgiveness. Even if he had reasons for doing what he did, and even if it was just the laws of nature, he still hurt Anu. And he struggled to fathom how he could just let it go like this. Or try to, at least.

At the same time, relief warmed his chest. Perhaps, if there was anyone that could provide answers to him, it would be Anu. And perhaps there was something he could help him with right now.

“Well,” Nip began, fiddling with his claws. “There is… something I’d like to talk to you about.” Anu gestured for him to continue, so he took a hesitant breath. “Over the last few days I’ve been having these… recurring dreams…”

But before he could continue, the sound of ruffling fabric caught their attention. Nip scented an electric current heartbeats before Vale stalked through the entryway, giving off frustrated sparks.

“Vale?” Anu stood up, tilting his head. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Vale replied with a snort. “Do I need a reason? But if you must know, I actually came here to fetch you, Anu. I was passing by the temple on a night patrol and saw one of those explorers. He asked to see you.”

“Did you tell him I was busy?”

“Of course. Told him it was too early. Told him a bad time and to come back later after the sun had fully risen. Even threatened to chase him off. But he was insistent.”

Anu sighed, then glanced out the window. It was still dark. “Well, I can’t go and see him right now, anyways. So he’ll just have to wait till after my relief comes in, at least.” His words were punctuated by a yawn.

“If you need relief, I can take over,” Vale replied. He walked over to stand beside Anu. “You’re just watching the prisoners for a while, right? I can take over until you get back. Already finished my rounds.”

“No, he can wait.” Anu shook his head. “It would be unbecoming of me to leave my duty incomplete.”

“But what about your duty to the patrons of the temple,” Vale countered, sparking. “I know you have a few visitors in the mornings. What if he heckles them like he did me.”

This, at least, seemed to make Anu hesitate.

Nip watched the exchange through narrowed eyes. Why was Vale so insistent on taking over? He knew from experience that Vale didn’t care to be around him or Tempest. Was he just looking for a way to harass them? Surely even Vale wouldn’t go that far?

Finally, Anu sighed. “Very well. I will see if I can convince him to leave without a fight.” His attention turned to Nip. “Apologies. We will continue this conversation another time.” With a rustle of fabric, he was gone.

Vale lay down in front of the cells, watching Nip and Tempest with his mouth clamped shut. He looked in no mood to converse, and Nip didn’t expect he had anything nice to say anyways, so he took a moment to gather up his scattered nest and settled down as if to sleep. But his nerves wouldn’t let him. He felt electrified, alert after Anu’s conversation. He doubted he would get any more rest, but he could at least lie down until the guards took him out in the morning.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there awake. It must have been some time, because he could see the faintest outline of light around the doorway when the sound of a commotion outside caught his attention. Curious, he sat up.

Vale was already on his feet, letting out a guttural growl while sparks danced in his fur. “Hey! What’s going on out there?” he barked, stalking towards the entrance with his head low and hackles raised.

A burst of flame greeted him, blasting him in the face as it engulfed the fabric covering. He let out a surprised yelp, stumbling back.

Nip scrambled to his feet and pressed himself into the shadows in the corner of his cell. The acrid scent of burnt fur made him gag as he watched, looking for signs of life in the manectric. Vale groaned and shifted, but did not try to get up. Sparks danced weakly on his pelt but went nowhere.

As the flames died away, the attacker became clear. A great dark beast—a charizard with some physical quirks unfamiliar to him—rose to her feet. Her tail flicked back and forth as she watched Vale for signs of resistance. Then she snorted smoke and turned towards the door.

“Subdued,” she announced with a growl.

“Excellent,” came a reply from just outside.

Nip’s blood turned to ice. He stiffened, still crouching. He knew that voice all too well.

Flames still crackled in the doorway, illuminating a stout, familiar figure.

Umbra.

Tempest sprang to his paws in an instant, lips curled in a soundless snarl. He stalked on the other side of his cell, hackles raised as the air in the room chilled. Nip’s breath came out in frosty puffs as he pressed himself against the wall. Umbra was here. Umbra was here. Why was Umbra here?

He knew. He knew he knew he knew. He knew exactly why she was here.

She entered the room with a leisurely gait, eyes trailing over the charizard and the downed Vale, then to Tempest, before her eyes finally settled on Nip. He knew she could see him. Smell him. He must be giving off a fear-scent…

Her posture shifted; if it had been anyone else, he could mistake her expression for friendly. But there was no hiding the malicious intent in her eyes.

Without taking her eyes off of Nip, she said to the charizard, “Find the keys, would you, Skorch?” The charizard lumbered away, leaving Nip her sole focus.

“Oh, how I have waited for this day,” she began, her tone light and airy. “More than six moons, you have evaded my grasp. Managed to slink away. No, it has been longer, has it not? You have been a thorn in my side since the day we were made mates. But no more. Finally, almost three cycles of careful work is paying off.”

The strange charizard returned, dropping a ring of keys into Umbra’s outstretched claws. She looked at them, frowning. “How am I supposed to use these, exactly?”

“It’s not that difficult. Just stick one in the hole and turn until one of them unlocks the door.” The charizard snorted smoke.

“Do not patronize me,” Umbra snapped back. Then she started sticking keys in, one at a time. By the third or fourth key, the cell door swung open. Just like that, the only barrier between himself and Umbra was gone.

Nip tried to form frost around him, to call forth an ice shard. But he couldn’t focus. He could only press himself against the wall as she marched towards him with a degree of nonchalance. She knew she had won, and she was taking the time to gloat.

“All the lies, all the cruelty and misdeeds, only to end like this. It is kind of pathetic, is it not?” She chuckled. “Then again, you always were pathetic. Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Somehow. Nip found his tongue. And despite his defeat, bitter resentment coated his mouth and gave him the courage to growl a single sentence.

“You’re a monster.”

Claws struck his cheek, then a blow to his stomach sent him reeling. He screeched, crumpling to the ground as white-hot pain radiated where fairy energy burned his skin—no, his very spirit. He felt his will to fight fading, succumbing to the pain. Why had he ever expected anything different? It always ended like this, with his face against the ground, a growing pain in his ribs, and Umbra standing over him, reminding him of how useless he was. Any time he showed defiance, this was the outcome. He should have known his death would be the same.

Then a blast of frigid wind sent him rolling backwards. He heard Umbra grunt and several dull thunks as he tried to climb to his feet, pelted by slush and chunks of ice. As his vision focused, he could see Tempest crouching with his gaze concentrated on Umbra, focused on creating more ice as he froze the air around him. He was attacking the mawile; Nip just happened to be caught in the blizzard.

Umbra snarled, marching towards Tempest despite the layer of frost accumulating on her steely fur, only to fall short due to the bars between them. With a frustrated snort, she tossed the keys toward the charizard. “He clearly has a talent for surviving certain death and causing me trouble. Here. Deal with him.” Her gaze shifted to the wooden floor and the furniture. “Or better yet… send this place up in flames. Then we can leave unimpeded while they deal with the fire.”

“What?”

Vale sprang to his paws with speed that surprised Nip. Clearly he wasn’t as injured as he’d first looked. “You can’t do that,” he sputtered. Do you have any idea how far that’ll set back the town? And whose hide do you think it’s going to come out of? Jhorlo’s not a total idiot!”

“He will figure it out either way. My disappearance and Nip’s disappearance will be proof enough for him.”

The manectric grunted, crouching. “Yes, but the destruction of the town isn’t necessary. What if the fire spreads? Our quarrel is with Jhorlo and with the sneasel.”

“We don’t have time for this,” the massive charizard growled, her tail flicking restlessly back and forth. “The lucario could return at any time. Just grab the sneasel and—”

Nip was suddenly blinded by bright light, spots blooming in his vision. Yelps and grunts filled the air. But through it, Umbra still stood tall, her attention focused on Tempest, the source of the attack.

“Just do it,” she snapped. “Before the ninetales gives us away.”

She was distracted. Nip crawled forward, claws digging into the wood as he dragged himself towards his cell door. This was his chance. If he could just reach the door, he could make a run for it. Even with the charizard on her side, he could hide in the bushes outside town. Get to the river and destroy his scent trail. He could run again, and find somewhere to start over.

But doing so meant leaving Tempest behind to die. Umbra would never let Tempest live if his distraction let Nip escape. Leaving him to die was the coward’s way out.

And yet, Tempest was causing a distraction now. Was he just fighting back? Or was he trying to give Nip an opening to escape?

Heart heavy with guilt and confusion, Nip continued to crawl out the cell door. Dawn light—freedom—was only a few bounds away.

Fire erupted on his back, his world exploding in agony. The horrible smell of burnt fur and flesh choked him as he screamed, ears ringing. He scrambled, dragging himself forward. But the fire followed, until finally, he quit trying to avoid it. Though the flames died, the pain remained. He felt pressure on his back, digging into the fresh wounds. He had no strength to crawl.

Somehow both nearby and distant at the same time, he heard Umbra’s voice. “Hurry up and set a fire. All that screaming will have attracted someone. Then we run. Vale, you need to look injured, go to…” But whatever else she was saying was lost. His cheek hit the ground, then the world went dark.