Chapter 5: Settle It In Court

SPENCER’S POV

Enfield led us to what looked like your average pub. There were plenty of those in Pastoria City, which many of the students at GPU would avail themselves of after finishing their finals. (Not me, of course – I’m hardly the drinking type).

“Here we are,” the Emolga said with a smile. “Welcome to the White Lion.”

“White Lion?” I echoed. “Aren’t most of the villagers white lions?”

Enfield glared at me, but luckily the staring contest didn’t last long. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, silly question.”

“Hello!” an authoritative voice barked. “Are you three here for dinner?”

Calvin nodded. “Three for dinner, yes. Do you have a table ready?”

This was an unnecessary question; only about half the tables were occupied for whatever reason. Perhaps this was due to the pub’s dusty floor, which looked like it hadn’t been mopped for some time. Or maybe it was because the walls had started to fade.

“Yes, we do!” the host exclaimed. He was an apron-clad Pyroar even burlier than Whitehall’s blacksmith. “Seat yourself, and the waiter will be over shortly!”

We selected a table near the window and waited for our menus. During this time, I shivered.

“What’s wrong, Spencer?” Calvin enquired. “You look worried.”

I sighed. “How is it that you understand me so well? We’ve only known one another for…less than a week, right?”

The other Litleo nodded. “Yes. It’s been five days by my count. Sometimes the days just blend together when you’re here. That’s another way we’re different from the other kind.”

I didn’t have to ask what other kind Calvin was alluding to. It was obvious.

After a few minutes, a waitress (this one a monochrome, female Pyroar) came to take our orders. As soon as she saw us, she gasped excitedly.

“Two of you are new?” 

There was no reason not to be honest. After all, I’m not the best liar. We nodded, and then I decided to introduce myself.

“Spencer T…” I began, but then Calvin emitted a slight hiss in my direction. I finished by saying “Spencer Litleo”.

“It is nice to meet you, Spencer,” the waitress told me with a warm smile. Turning to Enfield, she asked, “And you are…?”

“Enfield Emolga.”

“I haven’t seen your species in this village before,” the waitress replied. “Then again, I haven’t traveled too far. Most people in Whitehall don’t.”

“Understandable” Enfield replied, seeming to stiffen up at that. 

“How did you find this village, if I may ask?”

The Emolga grimaced. Now, I’m no expert on social cues, but I’m pretty sure this meant that he didn’t want to answer. 

Fortunately for all of us, the waitress didn’t make him. She took our orders for drinks and appetizers and then went on her way to the next table.

“She’s got a lot of questions, doesn’t she?” I asked.

Calvin shrugged. “Don’t get too worked up over it. Not very many Pokémon enter or leave Whitehall. It’s always an event when someone new shows up.”

“Oh, I’m not getting worked up,” I replied. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“I guess she’s curious too.”

When the waitress returned with three mugs of hot chocolate and three cups of miso soup, she had yet another question for us.

“So you three seem to know each other well. How so?”

I leaned against the back of the booth and smiled, hoping that I could leverage what little charisma I had. To what end I would do this, I wasn’t sure; a discount on the meals?

“We helped Enfield get his satchel back. It was in a mystery dungeon – the Piplup Playground.”

The waitress gasped. “You three are a team?”

“Yes, we are!” I proclaimed proudly. “We’re Team Earthlink.”

“That’s nice to hear,” the waitress responded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to deliver some other orders.”

Calvin was far less pleased. “What did you do, Spencer?”

“What was I supposed to do?” I replied with a defensive shrug. “I told her the truth.”

“That’s not the solution, Spencer,” Calvin muttered. “That’s the problem.”

Oh yeah. We probably shouldn’t be bragging about our exploits in the middle of a crowded restaurant. That’s the best way to blow our cover and reveal that we did something illicit. But how serious a crime is adventuring without a badge?

“She could go tell the authorities,” Enfield pointed out. “I thought our operation today had to remain top-secret.”

That’s news to me.

“Realistically,” I asked, “what would they even do about it? Expel us from the guild?”

Calvin frowned. “I don’t know, but don’t give them any ideas.”

“Right,” I sighed.

Eventually, we received our main courses. I’d ordered a calzone with pineapple and lab-grown pepperoni, Calvin had ordered a lab-grown burger, and Emolga had ordered a salad with lab-grown chicken. (You can probably sense a pattern here.) 

My mouth watered, and my stomach rumbled. I was ready to dig into my food; the calzone itself was shaped like a smiling face, which is exactly how I probably looked seconds before I took my first bite.

Unfortunately, I never took my first bite.

The restaurant’s door swung open, and, paradoxically, I felt a blast of heat as this occurred. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for me to realize why.

“Where are they?” a familiar fiery voice uttered.

My breath lodged in my throat, and my stomach dropped like a freight elevator whose chains had been cut. The folded pizza on the table in front of me no longer looked so appealing.

Speak of the devil! It’s Agarth!

“Sir, who are you talking about?” the host bellowed. 

“I’m talking about Team Earthlink!” Agarth exclaimed venomously. “They went on an unauthorized excursion into a mystery dungeon today, and I’d like to have a word with them!”

The host sharpened his claws, which I knew would likely be enough to make mincemeat out of the Torchic. Even if the Pyroar would win the battle, I didn’t want it to come to that.

“For safety reasons, I am not able to reveal who is currently at my restaurant” the host muttered authoritatively.

“Slade Pyroar, you know full well that Team Earthlink was missing for most of the day. Word gets around quickly in a town as small as this one. Therefore, they must have been in a mystery dungeon.”

The host (whose name was evidently Slade) frowned. “That’s a pretty giant leap to make, is it not? There could be any number of other explanations for why they were in the forest.”

Of course, on this one occasion, he’s right.

“Well, I have my reasons to suspect that” Agarth replied testily. Gesturing at our table, his eyes lit up with a deadly gleam. “That’s them! It’s Team Earthlink!”

How did he get here so fast? 

I didn’t have the time to ask that question, though, because Slade stepped forward to block Agarth’s path to us. “You will not harm my patrons!” was his outcry.

“You’re not the boss of me!” the Torchic yelled. 

By this time the entire pub’s attention was fixated on Slade and Agarth. It looked as though a big Whitehall family brawl was about to commence, and I bit my tongue to avoid saying anything that might make the situation more dangerous for all of us.

Slade sharpened his claws. “I’m not going to say it again. If you do not leave this pub, you will be trespassing, and nobody likes a trespasser.”

“I don’t care about that” Agarth muttered in a deadly tone. The Torchic then gestured at the three of us. “Follow me, right now.”

“All of us?” Enfield enquired.

“Yes, all of you.”

I gulped as I glanced down at my calzone. The cheese within was likely melted together with the pepperoni and pineapple, and I would have loved nothing more than to scarf it down, fall into a food coma, and forget about how much trouble we were all in.

Alas, I had to leave it there. At least Enfield wouldn’t have to pay for the meal.

None of us dared so much as glance at one another as we were marched out of the pub and back into the evening air. The sun had gone down, and the first stars were taking shape in the sky. It should have been an incredible sight, and yet…it wasn’t.

The walk to the guild hall seemed a lot longer than it should have been. Perhaps that was due to the fact that the village’s “downtown” (to the extent that such a thing existed here) was more crowded than in the morning. As such, far more Pokémon bore witness to the parade of shame.

Every bit of curiosity, every inkling of resentment, every iota of attention was felt acutely by my mind. It did not matter that I didn’t hear the villagers voicing these feelings about me, because they were still just as present.

As soon as I walked into the guild hall behind Agarth, my eyes itched yet again. I could barely keep them open, but it wouldn’t do to betray any hint of allergies. We’d already gotten on the Torchic’s bad side – too loud a sneeze would make things far worse.

“So,” Agarth began testily, glancing at all of us. “You three know what you have done.”

“No,” Calvin asserted.

“You do not know what you’ve done?” the guildmaster replied, raising an eyebrow. 

“That is correct,” Calvin responded. “We do not know what we’ve done wrong, or why you’ve decided to interrogate us like this.”

“Well then,” Agarth muttered. “If you are going to forget your transgressions, I am going to make you remember. When you come away from this conversation, there will be no remaining doubt about what you must do differently in the future.”

Even for a guy like me, it was clear that Agarth was less than convinced that we were actually oblivious. For some reason, though…maybe he was going to let it slide?

No. That’s pretty naïve. Based on everything I know about Agarth, he’s not the type to let bygones be bygones.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “I’ll own up to it: We entered the mystery dungeon in the forest.”

The look Calvin gave me next said the following: If I killed you right now, and there was a trial in this guild hall, nobody would vote to convict me.

“So you admit that you lied to me?” Agarth responded, fluttering upward and releasing a small stream of fire from his mouth. Luckily, he did this in a way so that none of us made contact with the flame.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I did.”

“Quite frankly, I knew Calvin Litleo was lying as soon as I listened. You see, news travels fast in this village. I have my sources; this particular guild has contact with others.”

“You mean…there are others?” I blurted out.

“Of course there are!” Agarth snapped, looking angry enough to snap something in two. “There are hundreds of guilds all over the world, and we’re all in communication with one another on a regular basis. You’ve got to be a good representative of the guild – “.

“Even if we just formed a team?”

“ Especially then! What example does it set? If you don’t fight like hell to make a good first impression, then we won’t have a world anymore!”

“The world will still be here, so chill” I muttered. But if my previous statements had lit a fuse under Agarth’s ass, this one created an explosion.

“Don’t you realize what’s at stake?!” the Torchic shouted. “Don’t you realize what they want to do to us?!”

I kept my mouth shut this time, sensing that I’d already done enough damage to our cause. Based on what Agarth snapped next, I believe I made the right call.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to set a good example for Pokémon, to show that we aren’t all savages, is not on our side! And you want to be on our side, don’t you?”

Enfield, Calvin,and myself cast more glances at one another, but we kept the proverbial ball in Agarth’s court. His outburst was far from over.

“Look, you kids are either with me or against me. If you’re against me, we have no use for you, and we might as well expel you from the guild! Why would we do anything else if your actions are so counterproductive?”

After this, Agarth sighed, as though his internal storm had blown itself out. Now he was simply breathing heavily, shaking his head at us.

“You can’t do things like this, Team Earthlink. You just can’t . If you hadn’t been able to locate Enfield Emolga’s satchel, I don’t want to imagine what would have happened. In fact, I don’t need to imagine – you would have been trapped in the dungeon and in need of a rescue. We’d have to commit our hard-earned resources to saving your sorry asses!”

“I’m sorry,” Calvin mumbled.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Calvin Litleo” Agarth snapped. “Sorry won’t change the fact that you three are in a heap of trouble. Enfield Emolga, did you join Team Earthlink?”

The Emolga shivered. “How did you know my name?”

“The guilds have plenty of intelligence-sharing systems. Beyond that, you do not need to know any more. The important thing is that you three are safe and sound.”

Suddenly I felt some hope return. Maybe he wasn’t going to bury us alive after all.

“So you won’t punish us?” I piped up. 

At first, Agarth appeared irate at the notion that he might let our actions slide by without any consequences. Like he thought it was absurd for us to beg forgiveness when we’d almost gotten ourselves in such danger.

“No,” the Torchic stated. “I think my outburst was punishment enough. Besides, you did help Enfield, even if it was by… unorthodox means.”

Right away I noticed that a change had come over Agarth’s expression. It wasn’t quite night and day; he was still frowning, after all. But something about his eyes looked almost happy.

“You three will still receive your badges in the mail within the next few days, as well as your scarves. And then you’ll well and truly be Team Earthlink.”

(Insert a horizontal line here)

According to Enfield, he didn’t have a place to stay that night, or for any night in the foreseeable future. It took some effort to convince Frala that he should stay, but she ultimately seemed to trust the Emolga enough to approve.

Just because we didn’t face any punishment from Agarth, however, didn’t mean that Frala felt the same way. She announced that we’d all be grounded until we received our exploration equipment.

“But Mom, I’m eighteen!” Calvin exclaimed. “Doesn’t that make me a legal adult?”

“So long as you live under my roof, you will have to live by my rules” Frala said coolly. “And the same goes for Spencer and Enfield. You are not to leave the house until the badges arrive in the mail.”

“Cal, you should listen to your mother. She is your mother after all, so treat her right.” That was Enfield talking with surprising authority for such a cute Flying-type.

Calvin stiffened up. “Do not call me Cal. I don’t like it.”

“The point is,” Frala continued, “Enfield has a point. You all live by the house rules as a condition of staying here. If you want to go on a long-term expedition, be my guest, but if the road is too scary for you, don’t come back here with your tail tucked between your legs…”.

Frala trailed off, perhaps understanding that she’d gotten carried away. “Anyway…dinner, then to the bedroom. Don’t be rowdy tonight.”

Following dinner (which we at least didn’t have to pay for), Calvin led us into the bedroom. To my surprise, the mattresses were all very low to the floor, like the bed I’d slept on as a small child. There were three of them.

“That’s odd,” I remarked.

Calvin frowned. “What’s odd about it?”

“It’s just…those beds don’t look like they’re for Pokémon our age. You’d think that toddlers slept in them, not adults.”

Neither of my companions commented on that, so I elected to drop it. We had more important Magikarp to fry.

“Well, I don’t know about you two,” Enfield said, “but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep too easily tonight.”

I shrugged. “Sleeping’s about all we can do now. It’s the best way to kill time, isn’t it – close your eyes and teleport a few hours into the future?”

“No, there’s a better way,” Calvin insisted. “Enfield, didn’t you say you wanted to have a team chant or something?”

The Emolga perked up. “A team chant?”
“Yeah!” the other Litleo barked, his tail wagging feverishly. “Like, a song to make our team stand out. We’ll make our mark that way.”

“How are we going to remember it, though?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it take too much time?”

Calvin snorted. “Look at us. Do you seriously believe we have anything but time right now?”

“Yeah, fair point.”

My memory is that Calvin produced a sheet of paper and a pencil from the nearby closet, then asked us to start brainstorming themes for the song. Within a minute, we’d all agreed that the tune should have something to do with adventure – that’s what the A stood for in the guild’s name, and that’s exactly what we wanted to do as Team Earthlink.

Coming up with a beat was more difficult. I may have loved listening to music, but producing it was a different story. It was easier said than done to envision a rhythm that hadn’t been used by a popular song before. And even if you did, that was just half the battle, since the lyrics had to rhyme as well.

Working for several hours, we eventually came up with the following lyrics. 

“THREE ‘MON WITH A LINK TO EARTH” by Spencer Litleo, Calvin Litleo, and Enfield Emolga

(To the tune of “Six Months In A Leaky Boat” by Split Enz)

When I was a young ‘mon,

A green scarf I wanted to don.

That is how we lead,

Saving those in need.

The strength of a warrior,

Traveling around the globe.

With the grit of a lion man,

Doing all the best we can!

I want to save them by,

Reaching up, touch the sky.

Planet shakes and sparks flare,

Just cross us if you dare.

We are now three ‘mon with a link to Earth,

Three ‘mon with a link to Earth.

Whitehall Village, Sinnoh, land of the abundant snow,

Glowing like a cake, righteous trouble we will make.

The grim prospect of danger, didn’t stop our forefathers,

So why should it stop us? 

About us they’ll all fuss!

Oh come on, all us friends,

Let’s stay strong, meet our ends.

There’s a big, grand old cave,

And someone we must save.

We are now three ‘mon with a link to Earth,

Three ‘mon with a link to Earth.

This world can be cruel,

Don’t be scared by its mind.

There is wind in our sails,

We’ll protect and prevail.

We are now three ‘mon with a link to Earth,

Three ‘mon with a link to Earth!

“I like it” Calvin pronounced, lying back in a supine position on his bed. “A bit cheesy, though?”

“Well, they can’t all be bangers” I mumbled, cringing at the corny lyrics. 

“But this is golden,” the other Litleo told me. “This is sellable. Besides, I doubt very many other teams have songs – we’ll be a cut above the rest.”

“At the same time, though,” I said, “I hope that our theme song doesn’t make other teams laugh us out of town. Or out of a dungeon, for that matter.”

Enfield snorted. “It’ll be fine.”

Truth be told, I liked the song. Yes, it may have been cheesier than the calzone I never got to eat, but like I’d said, they can’t all be bangers. Besides, my eyelids were now getting heavy, something I wouldn’t have thought possible a few hours ago.

“This is going to be the best sleep I’ve had in days that wasn’t magically-induced” I remarked, stretching out my legs and finding a position on the bed that wouldn’t crush my tail.

It was true, though. There was something satisfying (and oddly relaxing) about having been through such a dangerous experience and coming out of it alive. All’s well that ends well, after all.

Yes, we were still grounded, and there was every chance that Frala would have heard us while trying to sleep and would be pissed in the morning. However, that seemed like a “later” problem rather than a “right now” problem, so I didn’t give it any more thought. Within minutes, I was thinking no more.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

HUNTER’S POV

On January 6, 2024, the following article was published in the Pastoria Globe:

AREA YOUTH MISSING IN MOUNTAINS:

CORONET CITY, SINNOH – A student at Greater Pastoria University was reported missing several days ago while enjoying a ski vacation with his friends.

Spencer Teller, 21, was last seen by the public at the top of the highest lift at Happy Ski Resort on the outskirts of Coronet City. According to eyewitness accounts, he was with three other men roughly his age.

“They all rode up the lift together” stated a fellow avid skier, who agreed to comment on condition of anonymity. “They were decked out in way more gear than I was, though – each of them carried a backpack. That makes me think they went into the backcountry.”

Backcountry skiing carries numerous risks of its own. The mountains surrounding Coronet City are extremely dangerous when the slopes have not been groomed. In the absence of such practices, the snow is incredibly loose, which can easily lead to avalanches. (Within the bounds of ski resorts, there are gates to prevent such slides, as well as efforts to create smaller slides so that more destructive avalanches can be averted).

Several weeks ago, Happy Ski Resort opened to the public for the 2023-24 winter season. The resort, one of the largest and most popular in Central Sinnoh, offers hundreds of miles of pistes, as well as many aprés-ski activities such as bars and other winter sports.

“Personally, I’d never go into the backcountry without taking all the necessary precautions,” Clint Cargile, 34, a licensed paragliding instructor employed at the resort, told the Globe. “Now, I’m not saying that these boys were reckless, but I’m not saying that they were as careful as they could’ve been either.”

When asked if this statement indicated that he was blaming the skiers for getting into trouble, Cargile did not give a clear answer.

“I mean, we all take risks in life. At some point, safety is just pure waste. If you truly want to be safe, you might as well never get out of bed in the morning. Of course, I literally help clients fly off mountains, so there’s a little more risk to my job than some others. I will concede that.”

The Globe reached out to Spencer Teller’s three companions shortly after Mr. Teller was reported missing. Alexander “Xander” Canaan, 20, spoke to the Globe on January 3.

“Spencer went off from the rest of us on his last run. I think he needed to water the trees – a euphemism for what you do when nature calls. But he didn’t tell the rest of us loudly enough.”

Mr. Canaan was then asked why the other young men did not wait for Mr. Teller. He responded thusly:

“Look, I just didn’t hear him. Or see him. He was the last one to begin the run, and by the time we’d made it halfway down the mountain, I guess Manuel turned around and saw that Spencer wasn’t there.”

The boys continued their run, then alerted ski patrol about their friend’s disappearance. Reportedly, the ski patrol was not pleased.

Manuel Rook, 21, told the Globe that the ski patrol refused to help find Mr. Teller. “They told us that you ski in the backcountry at your own risk” Mr. Rook said. “Therefore, they weren’t going in to look for him. They needed to focus on rescuing people within the bounds of the resort.”

Evidence of foul play has not yet been established, but to the extent that such suspicions have swirled around, most of them have been trained on Hunter Hawkeye, 22. By all accounts, he was the group’s de facto leader, and he encouraged the quartet to enter the backcountry even despite the risks.

Mr. Hawkeye, upon being approached by the Globe, had little to say. He was noted to fidget significantly with every word, and rarely made eye contact with our Coronet City correspondents. He has not been to the ski resort in the five days since Mr. Teller vanished into the wilderness. Despite this, Mr. Hawkeye denies wrongdoing.

“Look, I didn’t do anything,” he insisted. “Yes, we skied a little quickly, but the backcountry is intoxicating. It’s addictive to carve through snow that’s so deep you need to wear a beacon.”

Anybody with information that may aid in the rescue or recovery of Mr. Teller is encouraged to call the number 555-5547. If that information leads to such an event, the informer will be rewarded with $500,000 in cash.

“I support this,” Mr. Hawkeye told the Globe. “Spencer was – is – my friend. I want him to be safe and sound. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Unfortunately for Mr. Hawkeye, the authorities in Coronet City were less than convinced. Yesterday, Hunter Hawkeye was subpoenaed to testify in front of a grand jury; that testimony will occur this evening and will be televised.

Hunter welcomed the warmth as he ascended the marble stairs into the courthouse. The wind was carrying snowflakes to the ground with an intensity not seen since the day Spencer had gone missing. 

Normally, he would have welcomed the snow. Not only did it look beautiful, but it added to the atmosphere of adventure, particularly when skiing was involved. That day he did not.

Hunter had been told that his deposition would occur in Courtroom Seven. Ordinarily, he would have shared in Spencer’s joke that it was also known as Courtroom Several; after all, “several” meant “seven”, did it not?

Right now, though, such a joke felt wildly inappropriate. Just thinking about anything lighthearted would be highly disrespectful. Not just to Spencer, but to the whole legal process. Yet he tried to maintain a poker face. The questioner would attempt to get under his skin, and Hunter couldn’t let that attempt succeed.

Each courtroom’s entrance had a proverb etched above it. Some of them were quotes from the Book of Arceus, whereas others seemed far more generic. One of them stood out more than the others, though, and it happened to be the one outside Courtroom Seven.

HUMANITY IS MIGHT, AND MIGHT MAKES RIGHT.

Well, whatever. We’re humans, and it’s not like Pokémon have the same cognition that we do. Some would say it doesn’t hurt as much when we hunt them.

Coincidentally, as Hunter entered the courtroom, he was able to catch the sound of the previous proceeding. From what little he’d gathered, someone had just posted bail on a charge of hunting Deerling and Emolga with an expired license. 

The pace of his heartbeat quickened, probably not unlike the feeling a Sawsbuck experienced when it was in the crosshairs of one of Hunter’s father’s rifles. Hunter took a deep breath, remembering that he wasn’t under arrest.

I can leave whenever I want. This is just so that they can help find Spencer. They don’t consider me a suspect.

“Hunter Hawkeye?”

“Present” Hunter stated, striding up to the stand to find that an old, weathered tome had been placed upon it. It was a yellow-covered edition of the Book of Arceus. Whether it had been yellow originally was anyone’s guess.

“Put one hand over the Book of Arceus and the other over your heart” the judge announced. He was a tall, burly man, maybe in his late fifties, with thinning hair and glasses. He spoke with authority, which was an important quality indeed because…

“I’m Judge Bannock, and I will be questioning you today. Do you need me to read your rights?”

“No, sir,” Hunter replied. “I know them all.”

“Do you?” 

“Why, yes. I do.”

“Our records state that you are in college at Greater Pastoria University. Do you take any Civics courses there?”

Hunter’s eyelids fluttered. “Excuse me, what?”

“Would you like me to repeat the question?”

“Uh…” Hunter mouthed. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Then you’ll know that you have the right to remain silent…”.

“Yes.”

“…and you seem to have waived it?”

“Of course I have. I want to find my friend as much as the rest of you do. More, actually, because he was – he is – my friend.”

There’s no way in hell I can betray any hint of guilt. Because I’m not guilty. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“So you are an avid skier, Mr. Hawkeye?” Judge Bannock enquired.

“Yes. Why is that relevant?”

“Come on, Lucario! Get out of the bench and hit the floor!”

What is this, a dance party?

Judge Bannock snapped his fingers, and suddenly a tall creature with blue and beige fur crawled out from behind the judge’s seat. He was clearly a Lucario, what with his aura sensing organs and chest spike, but one thing was different.

While most members of his species were known for being “badass” and capable of performing impressive physical feats, this Lucario (who apparently hadn’t even been given a name) was adorned in more straps than one of Santa’s reindeer. Unlike one of Santa’s reindeer, it was clear that Lucario didn’t want to be there. The Fighting-type grimaced, its blue facial fur turning a bright purple.

“Why is Lucario here, Your Honor?” Hunter enquired. 

Judge Bannock glared at his witness. “He’s here to keep you all in line. The witness, the jury, the defendant…”.

“But there’s no defendant here…at least, I don’t think there is?”

“If you don’t want to see yourself become a defendant, Mr. Hawkeye, you might as well answer my questions. Your refusal to cooperate is, as many of your generation would say it, sus.”

“Right” Hunter muttered.

“Before Lucario came out from his hiding spot,” the judge continued, “I asked you if you were an avid skier.”

“I am,” Hunter stated. “I’ve been doing it since age six and have participated in several backcountry tours with my father, several meaning seven.”

“Seven backcountry tours,” Judge Bannock replied. “For the grand jury, would you mind explaining what a backcountry tour entails?”

“Well, there’s a lot of extra equipment. We need to carry backpacks with us, which hold everything we’ll need for the day. Sometimes we’ll bring lunch with us that we bought at a convenience store, like meat buns or seaweed wraps.”

“Is a backcountry tour dangerous?”

“It can be,” Hunter replied. “But there are many ways to minimize the risks. As an example, each of us wears a transceiver in case someone is buried under the snow.”

“And how would that happen? An avalanche?”

The witness nodded. “That is the most likely way for it to happen, yes. Because the victim is unable to free themselves from the snow, it’s up to the rest of the group to find the buried person before…before time runs out.”

Lucario growled, biting down to create a sort of cage with his teeth. Even without this intimidation, though, Hunter knew his words had startled the grand jury. The diverse group of his “peers” sat in the box, mouths wide open.

“On the day of his disappearance, was Mr. Teller wearing his transceiver?”

“Yes, he was,” Hunter replied without hesitation, distinctly remembering how much trouble Spencer had experienced strapping the thing on. 

“Is there any way it could have fallen off his person during the course of your ski day?”

“It’s not very likely. The transceiver comes with a harness attached, which is used to keep it strapped to your chest. Spencer was wearing the harness correctly.”

“Okay” Judge Bannock replied. “So everything was working as it should have, gear-wise.”

“Right,” Hunter stated, because this was the truth. He couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that he should have said something else. Even if it fell under the heading of “perjury”.

“And yet, something still went wrong that day. Something went horribly wrong.”

Hunter suddenly choked on his own saliva. His eyelids seemed welded together with glue rather than simple tears. His chest felt tight, as though someone were pressing a pillow firmly against his nose and mouth.

“Yes,” Hunter replied. “It did.”

“How did it happen?”

“Well, we’d just eaten lunch at a restaurant on the mountain. We took the lift upward, and that’s when the weather got worse. I mean, from a skier’s perspective it got better, but visibility was reduced by the wind and snow. It was much like it is today.” (As he finished the last sentence, Hunter gestured at the window to prove his point).

“But that’s not conclusive in and of itself” Judge Bannock muttered. “After all, wouldn’t you say that lots of skiers experience inclement weather on the mountain?”

“I would” Hunter said, barely resisting a gulp. He knew suddenly that anything he said to improve his situation here would likely backfire. The grand jury, a group supposedly of his peers yet all at least twice his age, had put their pens down. They were now all staring directly at him as though he were a pet who’d chewed up the carpet.

“So skiers frequently encounter snowstorms. That’s an occupational hazard of the sport. But rarely do any of them go missing; is that also fair to say?”

“It is,” Hunter admitted.

“And yet, Spencer Teller was nowhere to be found within minutes of beginning the run?”

Think, think. Should I just tell the truth? I guess they all say that the truth will set you free, but it doesn’t feel that way here.

“It wasn’t minutes after the run began” Hunter said eventually, making an expression akin to a pet about to be put down. “It was seconds.”

“And then he was gone?”

Hunter felt his knees buckle. He grabbed the stand to stop himself from collapsing to the floor, which wouldn’t exactly help his case.

Judge Bannock didn’t seem sympathetic. “Answer me, dammit!”

“Yes, he was,” Hunter said. “We didn’t see him after the run began, and we haven’t seen him since.”

“But you want to locate him, don’t you?”

In response, Hunter glared at Judge Bannock. Haven’t we already been over this?

“Please explain why you did not use the transceivers to locate your friend. If you were so concerned that he’d been lost, why didn’t you check to see if he could be found easily?”

Hunter shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Do you care to elaborate?”

“The transceivers only have a range of a couple hundred meters. Beyond that they are useless. And it wasn’t until a good five minutes had passed that Manuel, Xander, or I noticed that Spencer was missing.”

“So what did you do next?”

This is it. It’s time for the shameful reveal, possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made. It certainly will be the worst decision if I’m indicted.

“We knew that an attempt to locate him using the beacons would be futile, so we skied the rest of the way down. Was it the wrong decision? Yes”.

Those words came out of Hunter’s mouth as though he were on autopilot. He was barely aware of uttering them until he’d completed the sentence.

“You made it to the base of Happy Ski Resort. Did you call the ski patrol?”

“We did. They informed us that they wouldn’t be able to look for Spencer. They don’t patrol that area, after all.”

That was my biggest mistake: Being wrong about where the ski patrol didn’t do their job. And I’m going to pay a price for that.

Then again…wherever Spencer is now, he’s already paid. The question is, who’s going to pay now? Probably me.

“Let me get this straight, Hunter,” Judge Bannock snapped. “Did you not know that the backcountry is not under the control of ski patrol?”

The grand jury were now staring at Hunter, eyes agape as though they were witnessing a car wreck. It was horrific, but you just couldn’t look away. That primal instinct for stimulation would keep you looking, no matter how much enduring drama it would cause you.

“I didn’t know that,” Hunter blurted out.

“But you should have known that if you were skiing there? Is it fair to say that?”

It doesn’t matter how I answer. I’m sure that to this grand jury, the question contains the answer.

Hunter sighed. “Yes, Your Honor. I think it is.”

The grand jurors began furiously scribbling notes once more; that is, except for one woman in the front row. She wore formal-looking spectacles and fixed a sharp glare on Hunter.

Her expression was exactly like one Hunter had seen other sharpshooters wear while taking part in that sport. It was the look of a powerful creature who, having weakened its prey, was now going in for the kill.