Author's Note: For a forum challenge. A collection of unconnected drabbles in which each entry explores how Pokemon and humans might have interacted historically or in a variety of settings. For example, this first one is a medieval setting. You get the picture.
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the starling migrates south for winter
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Hark, a starly lights against the sky
and opens up its wings to feel the sun.
How majestic it appears in flight!
how far it goes before the day is done.
But pity! for its hour comes at last
when death consumes all villains in his grasp
and starlys fall with arrows striking fast
and flightless, lies and shudders with a gasp.
For though a bird has naught to do with war,
a ribbon holding scrolls means confidence,
and as I nock an arrow on the fore,
a starly falls for joining in the dance.
A war brings death to every living thing,
despite their desire to fly, and sing.
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Stare at the sky with me and count the starly. Count them. See? Twenty. There's fifteen. A flock, forty or more. There are hundreds. Thousands, even. Innumerable, like the stars.
You know, I don't usually take guards on missions with me. But you're different. You have some talent. Wars eat kids with talent, so you might as well learn something before it gobbles you right up.
When I first started doing this, my master told me that you can tell how long before midwinter by counting the starly. See? There's too many, even for your sharp eyes. That means it's around the end of October. After this, they'll start to dwindle. That makes our job much easier.
…There's the target. Nock it.
There. Just there. That one, see? You can see the white.
Now.
Growlithe, go get it. Message intact.
See? That's how you do it; you've got a sharp eye. Who taught you to shoot, anyway? …a hunting family? Makes sense.
…then, why are you crying? This is war. We can't let messenger birds just deliver messages, no matter who they're from. We have an enemy, you know.
Best saddle up, kid. We're moving on, and if you're not ready to fight, you'd best head on home. Before that fluttery heart of yours gets you killed.