Eundunja

by cmforsyth

On a summer day in the sleepy seaside town of Rang Bay, a young pokemon trainer overhears a conversation that will change his life. Ren and his trusted mankey set off into the wild in search of the world's rarest and most powerful pokemon. The woods and the mountains hold secrets and dangers, as well as others on the hunt.

Eundunja

by Claire Marie Forsyth

The sky was clear and blue with only a few cirrus clouds hanging still in the sky. As he leaned against the side of Ryen's tackle shop, Ren could see all the way out to Mt. Sula, the shortest and closest of the four mountains to the southwest of Rang Bay that locals called The Huntsmen. From the other side of the shop, he could hear the noises of the fish market as business went on as usual. Fishermen haggling, and fishmongers chasing off pelicans and gulls with sharp cries and broomsticks. He leaned against the wall and waited for Hiro to arrive.

Hiro had agreed to show up at the tackle shop before ten o'clock to pay Ren the 40p that he owed him. Any later and they both risked being late for the Young Trainers Lecture, part of a series taking place Saturday mornings at Baylo's Gym. This week they were to learn how to teach defence tactics to basic pokémon. Between the gym and the pokémon centre, Ren never missed a single lecture, clinic, or workshop. He needed to learn everything he could if he wanted to become a pokémon master. As he walked up to Ryen's shop, he had promised himself that if Hiro didn't show up on time with the money, he'd never lend him so much as a fishhook ever again.

Loud whispers from the front of the shop cut through the distant din of the fish market. He peeked his head around the corner to see where the voices were coming from. Two men were standing near the doorway of the tackle shop, standing close and trying to speak quietly. Their whispers got louder, but they didn't seem aware that anyone could hear them. The first man's voice was high-pitched with fear, "Please… Leave me out of it! I don't know what I saw."

Ren recognized this man as the shopkeeper Ryen, who made the best lures in Rang Bay. Everyone knew that Ryen's lures would land you exactly what you wanted to catch. Fish, water pokémon, turtle, snake… He had a lure tailored to whatever you were fishing for, and even for the sex or size of the creature, or the weather, or time of day. Anything that swam was yours for the taking.

The other man loomed over the kindly shopkeeper, "Your father owes me and my people a lot of money. If you tell me what I want to know, I can make things easier for him," he offered. This man was a stranger. He wore an off-the-rack black suit with no tie. It seemed likely that the double-parked matching black SUV in front of the store was his.

Ren ducked down as low as he could, barely allowing a sliver of his face to show. He had definitely not expected to see Ryen in trouble with rough types. He was just a passionate artisan, known to be out on the bay testing his creations before any of the fishing boats pushed off at dawn.

The man in black seemed to relax. He lit a cigarette with a match, which he shook and threw off. Ryen stood still, watching the man's every move.

"Tell me what you saw. The whole thing," the man said soothingly.

Ryen did not speak. He pursed his lips resolutely, but his eyes darted, as if grasping for another way to make the man leave. In an instant, the man lost his patience. He threw the cigarette down, grabbed Ryen by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him up against the wall with both hands.

"Don't think you can fuck with me," he growled, "I will light your store on fire with you tied up inside."

Ren was afraid to breathe. He was paralyzed in his spot.

Ryen stammered, "I was on my boat at 4am. I was testing my new lure."

"And how many other boats were out then?" the man interrogated.

Ryen hesitated now, as if afraid to miss a detail. "I was at the mouth of the bay, by the West Sound. The other boats were just launching. I was alone."

The man relaxed his grip, and ran his finger along his thin moustache, considering what Ryen had told him. The lure-maker massaged his throat where the man's fists had pressed into it. Ren slowly moved down from his crouched position onto his stomach, so no one would see him looking around the corner of the shop.

"And what did you see?" the man asked, patient again, now that he was getting what he wanted.

Ryen reeled off a description as if he had been cramming for the oral exam, "It was white and grey, hairless, round, sloping shoulders. No real neck, just a head on a torso. About six feet tall. It walked slumped forward, with huge teeth."

"What was it doing?" the man prompted

"It was swimming near the rocks. Eating seaweed," Ryen was defeated, "I saw it clearly," he admitted, "And I looked up pictures with my father when I got back to the shop. It was Eundunja."

Ren's eyes popped. Could it be true? Could Eundunja be in Rang Bay?

The man in black backhanded the shopkeep. "If you value your father's life, you'll not speak that name."

Ryen reeled back, holding his hands up to protect himself from further blows. The man in black straightened up, and stepped back to give his frightened victim room to regain his feet. He softened his tone, "What did it do next?"

"Well… I paddled in for a closer look, and it saw me approaching. It growled to threaten me, but then it turned and swam for the shore. It ran up the beach and into the trees," Ryen said as he held his sore jaw.

"Good," the man patted Ryen lightly on the cheek and cooed, "Now forget everything you saw. Go back into your shop and do your business as usual. If you see it again or hear anyone else talk about it, you call the number on this card and offer me a discount on fishing line. Got it?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Good."

The man spun around and headed for the SUV. Almost as a second thought, he stopped abruptly and looked around for anyone who might have overheard. Ren ducked back behind the corner, frozen. He waited for seconds that dragged on like centuries until he heard the SUV start, and then the crunch of the tires over gravel as it drove off. The door to the shop opened and closed, and he was alone.

Hiro was completely gone from Ren's mind as he sat with his head leaned back against the side of the building, waiting for his heart to slow down. The adrenaline sat like wads of cotton in his ears and his mind raced.

Eundunja. If he had overheard Ryen say that he had seen a real-live genie run into the woods Ren wouldn't have been so excited. But unlike a genie, Eundunja was more than just a fairytale. Eundunja was the rarest, most sought-after pokémon on Earth. If he was really out there, this was an opportunity that could change everything.

"Hey Ren—Are you all right?" came a voice from right next to him.

Ren startled like a rabbit. He'd been so distracted that he hadn't noticed his friend approaching. Hiro crouched over him with his eyebrows arched in a look of concern.

"Yeah it's okay you just startled me," Ren breathed, trying to sound relaxed.

"Oh sorry." Hiro stayed silent.
Ren braced himself for bad news. "Do you have the 40p?"

Hiro couldn't meet his eyes. "No, all I could get was 25, but I swear I'll pay the rest back to you soon."

Ren sighed, but knew that he wouldn't stay mad with his friend. It didn't really do any good. He never seemed to learn from his mistakes, no matter how good his intentions were. Ren reminded himself how young Hiro was. At eleven years old, he was a full two years younger, and he often seemed more like a little brother than a friend, especially since he had a tendency of following Ren places and pretending to just run into him. But Hiro was better than nothing. They both took the ferry up the east side of the bay to school at Boso Crossing. They both had no one else to talk to on the ride.

More than anything, what really drew them together was their love of pokémon. They both wanted nothing else in the world but to become pokémon masters. They had met when Hiro was getting his first pokémon, a nidoran named Lance, registered at the pokémon centre. Ren was there with his mankey, Siman, getting his eighteen-month vaccinations. They had bonded over their encyclopedic knowledge of all the different species, and had been friends ever since. But even though Hiro was only two years younger, he was a lot more naïve. It was hard to blame him – very few kids had to grow up as quickly as Ren did.

"Okay okay Hiro—give me your PokéMart gift certificate and we'll call it even." Ren needed to cut the interaction short.

Hiro started with the puppy eyes. "But…It's for 50p and I only owe you 40. I need to buy vitamins for Lance to help him evolve quicker," he whined.

Ren had no heart to tell his friend that "Lance" was definitely female, nor that vitamins weren't going to help his nidoran evolve.

"Come on Hiro… You can't buy vitamins next week?"

"Next week we're supposed to spar with the kids coming in from Boso! If Lance goes down in the first round everyone'll laugh at me."

The sad thing was, the older kids already did laugh at them. Ren's progress with Siman wasn't much better. His mankey was only at Level 12 and couldn't do much more than tackle and a basic takedown, though Siman had attracted attention by mastering sign language. Ren had learned how to sign from his deaf mother, before she died. He knew how it to see his pokémon lose battles, but Ren had no more time to sympathize with Hiro. He needed the money.

He raised his eyebrows the way adults did, "Hiro how many times have I bailed you out with a loan?" he lectured, "Like the time you spent money on those phony nets to catch seadras—"

"All right, all right. Here." He handed Ren the gift card, sighing, "What's your big emergency anyway?"

Ren answered abruptly, "Just never mind. I'll tell you another time. Thanks." He turned and started off, but Hiro tagged along.

"Wait up, I'll go with you."

Ren kept his head pointed forward. "No."

"Aren't you going to Baylo's for the defence lecture?" he nagged.

"No, I can't go" Ren insisted.

Hiro just couldn't take a hint. "But… We've been talking about it all week. You never miss a lesson," he probed, wracked with equal parts concern and nosiness.

Ren didn't answer. He quickened his pace, and the younger boy had to skip to keep up. He changed tack and guilted his friend. "I know I was late but please don't punish me. Tell me what's up," he begged.

To say that Hiro could be needy was an enormous understatement. Ren stopped and looked his friend in the eye. "It's not a punishment. This is just something I have to keep to myself for now."

Hiro hesitated, "…Is it your dad, Ren? Are you okay?"

A pang ran through Ren's chest. It was true that he often grew quiet during times when his father was in a bad mood. Hiro's mention of it was just another reminder that no matter how badly he tried to hide it, people just knew. It made Ren furious that even to a little kid like Hiro, he was seen as a charity case. He knew that his friend cared about him, but the look of pity from a scrawny four-eyes made him taste bile. He burst out, "NO. It's… It's nothing like that. You" – Ren gritted his teeth, then composed himself as he saw Hiro cowering, afraid of his temper – "You have to trust that I need to do this alone. You have to let it go right now."

Hiro nodded. Ren calmed himself. He could see the younger boy was trying not to cry, and he softened, putting his hand on Hiro's shoulder. "Just wish me a little luck, okay? That what I need," Ren reassured him.

Hiro sniffed and choked back a sob, determined to show his friend that he was no baby. He nodded manfully, "Well good luck, Ren. With whatever it is."

Ren nodded back, then turned down the road toward his house. He looked back and saw Hiro standing still, watching him leave. Ren waved, and Hiro waved back. What could he do? The kid was sensitive. He'd never had to be tough.

The things he needed to do next would take toughness. From first to last, it was risky, but if the Eundunja was right nearby in the woods west of Rang Bay, this was Ren's chance to change everything.

Eundunja was legendary, but unlike most legends, he was real. For a year after the creature escapes from a top-secret lab, experts, journalists, and authorities debated whether he even existed. Ten years before, when Ren was a toddler learning sign language from his mother, a Korean pokémon expert and genetics researcher named Kim Jin Bae went to the Gwanak District Pokemon Centre in Seoul, and, in defiance of his orders to keep his research classified, reported that one of his pokémon had escaped from his lab.

In his tell-all memoir, Dr. Kim revealed that he had been performing secret experiments in cloning and gene-splicing in an effort to create an ultra-powerful and highly intelligent pokémon to use as a defence against an increasingly belligerent North Korea. The plan had been to station them along the DMZ to attack any invasion forces or spies that might try to slip through. A net of amphibious, territorial, and lethal pokémon that could live off the land with little supervision and upkeep would eliminate the need for so many conscripted troops to guard the border. In order to create a pokémon that was resistant to all forms of attack, Dr. Kim had used genes from all different pokémon types, amounting to parts of a hundred discrete species spliced together into one genome.

As far as scientists could tell, his experiments had been largely successful, though he had not been able to make a breeding pair as he had aimed to, in order to cut down on the cost of cloning. In addition to Dr. Kim's memoir, there were several popular books written by leading pokémon scientists that detailed all of Eundunja's impressive specs. According to Tracking The Hermit, which Ren had rented from the library four times, Dr. Kim's ingenious splicing had produced a pokémon with all the strengths of the major types, but none of the vulnerabilities. In addition to physical abilities and attributes, Kim had also carefully "programmed" Eundunja with the ideal behaviours for its mission. According to all the observable evidence, it was a creature of flawless stealth. It was highly territorial, remaining out of sight unless its land is encroached upon. It stayed on high ground, out of sight, outside of hunting, foraging, and patrolling for incursions by humans. It was thick skinned and strong, with high HP, and nearly impervious to pain and damage. The scientific consensus was that Eundunja was nearly perfect.

This perfect military asset escaped from Dr. Kim's lab, a secure facility, in the middle of the afternoon on a sunny say, in one of the biggest cities in the world. It was not seen again for two years, when it was spotted in the Ural Mountains, near Sibay, by goatherds. The Korean press named it Eundunja, meaning "recluse". To Dr. Kim it had only been KT4289—TS; his declassified notes were released years later, when the Korean government finally acknowledged the synthetic pokémon's existence in the wake of a worldwide media frenzy.

Since then, ambitious pokémon trainers, curious scientists, documentary journalists, and military intelligence organizations from across the globe had been hunting and tracking the reclusive creature tirelessly. In spite of the massive efforts to find it, authorities could only confirm four sightings in ten years. He was spotted the first time in Russia, then Alaska, in the Brooks Range, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, near Kilauea, and, most recently, in the New Guinea Highlands, near Mt. Wilhelm. In addition to the four verified sightings, thousands of unverified sightings were claimed every year, on all continents except Antarctica.

Ren looked at his watch. It was 10:10. The sun was high and hot, and there was plenty of daylight left. He turned onto the main road that ran through town and into the mountains. The four peaks stood in a neat row, lowest to highest, and curving north and west. In order it went Mt. Sula, Mt. Ko, Mt. Chel, and Mt. Tosi, named for the four types of huntsmen in the language of the Rang-Ino, the original inhabitants of the shores of Rang Bay and forests along the Strand, which stretched out to the west.

Even though time was of the essence, he found himself slowing down as he got closer to home. He was sick about what he had to do next. The 50p on the gift card from Hiro would not be enough to buy what he needed for his plan to work. He clenched his jaw and plowed forward toward home.

He first ran across the yard to make sure the shed was closed and padlocked, then he peeked at the front stoop to make sure his father's boots weren't there. It was as he had expected. His father would be out on the boat catching fish until dark. Ren reminded himself that he would be long gone before his father returned.

He slipped out his key and opened the door. The moment the lock turned, Ren could hear scampering inside the tiny prefab house. He stepped inside to greet his best friend.

He grinned, "Hey Siman! How are you?"

Siman jumped up and hugged Ren, then jumped back down and signed, "Why didn't you bring me with you?"

"You know… No pokémon at lectures," Ren chided, "It's Baylo's rules."
Siman grimaced. He hated being treated like an unruly animal. "I'm not a rattata or spearow, biting or screeching."

Ren exhaled heavily, "I know that, but if I get suspended from the gym, the pokémon centre could take away my junior trainer's licence," Ren's throat got a lump just thinking about it, "They'll send you to someone who can't understand you." Ren added, in sign language, "I'm looking out for you."

They'd had this conversation before, but the older Siman got, the more insistent he became. He refused to allow people to see him as a typical mankey, a species known for wrathful and aggressive behavior. In fact, far from being typical, Siman was an anomaly for his species, and his type. Fighting type pokémon, and mankey in particular, were prone to frenzies. They were known to jump from trees and attack anything for any reason. They were also notoriously difficult for apprentice trainers to control. Even Baylo, the Pokemon Master who ran the gym in Rang Bay and usually only noticed the pretty female trainers, took an interest in how Ren and Siman interacted. He got out his video camera and took footage of the extraordinary behaviour, and sent it to Professor Bao, the pokémon researcher at Boso College across the bay. The professor had written back that he was amazed by Siman, and planned to come visit soon to run tests on him.

Inwardly, however, Ren worried that when Siman evolved into a primeape, his personality would change, and his genetic programming would take over. The idea of losing his friend in a single moment terrified him.

The mankey was puzzled, signing, "You're back so soon. Why?"

Ren decided to dodge the question. He changed the subject, "So Siman how's the new move coming?"

Siman jumped, "I practiced. Watch," he signed excitedly. He scurried up onto the fridge and dove off it headfirst, colliding with the cushy backrest of a chair at the kitchen table.

Ren was pleased. "Well done, Siman! Your headbutt is improving." Good against a chair is one thing, but battle would certainly be different. Ren kept the thought to himself.

Though Siman lacked the hot-headedness of his kind, his fighting technique was improving. He was methodical and disciplined in his training, and he fought cerebrally rather than fiercely. He had levelled up twice in the last six months. The two of them beat Hiro and Lance every time they sparred together, but had mixed results against the other kids at Baylo's.

Not that Baylo's gym was some elite club of pokémon trainers. Baylo was a thirty-five year-old master. He was highly accomplished and decorated, having won every major badge and taken home trophies from a dozen major tournaments all before the age of twenty. But fifteen years after his peak of glory, he was a complete wash-out. He and his former champion pokémon were all out of shape. After five years of failing to qualify for any major tournaments, Baylo came back to his hometown of Rang Bay to open a gym and pursue his interest in getting liquored up and pinching waitresses. His collection of water and ground pokémon, from Rang Bay and the hills around the Huntsmen Mountains, were as lazy as he were. Baylo's Mudslide Badge was considered an easy notch by journeyman trainers – at least those who bothered to come to Rang Bay at all. Ren couldn't wait to leave town and get away from all the mediocrity. Since his mother died, adults had been a disappointment. He hated them all.

Siman climbed to the top of the fridge to do another headbutt dive, and Ren was glad there was at least someone he cold rely on.

Ren slipped out of the kitchen, turning left into the short and narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms. The door on the left was his room, the right his father's. Why did his father even have a room? Ren couldn't think of a time his father had ever slept in there. The bedroom was just for clothes – stained overalls and frayed work shirts. He left his waders and boots on the front porch overnight and fell asleep on the couch, cradling a bottle of whiskey.

Ren opened the door softly. His heart was pounding, as if, all the way out in the middle of the bay with the wind in his ears, his father might hear the hinges squeak. Just a week ago, Ren's father had found dishes in the sink – Ren had been late to the ferry home from Boso and had had to catch a later one – and had waited for him in the kitchen. Without even a word to preface it, he threw a punch to his son's gut and knocked the wind out of him. Ren curled up on the floor with his eyes watering, furious at his own weakness. Every time Ren promised himself that one day he would no longer be powerless. One day his father would be afraid of him.

Ren took a deep breath and strode intently over to his father's dresser. He yanked out the sock drawer and found the little hole in the back corner where his father shoved his poker winnings. Luckily this month he was up. There was 120p and Ren took it all. His father could come home every night covered in mud and fish slime, but this was Ren's chance for something more.

He turned around to leave and gasped in panic.

"What are you doing?" Siman stood in the hallway with his head cocked to the side, looking into the room.

"Nevermind pal," Ren evaded, "Let's go."

Siman hesitated. His hands didn't form any words, but they quivered, like the sign equivalent of getting words caught in his throat. Ren had a sudden flash of memory. He saw his mother with her speechless hands quivering, then balling into fists. She was gritting her teeth through tears as his father shouted. Ren figured he must have been seven at the time. He had been peeking through his door, drawn by the noise of an argument. He hadn't thought of that memory in a long time.

Ren crossed the hall into his own room and started packing his gear bag with all the supplies he would need in the woods. In PokéScouts he had learned exactly what to pack. He threw in dry food, a water filter, a compass, a first aid kit, his laminated map of the area, a utility knife, extra clothes and a few odds and ends. Then he added a few potions he had left over. Not enough, but he would be able to buy a few more at the PokéMart before they set out.

Finally, Siman jumped up on the bed into his trainer's field of view and asked, "Where are we going?"

Ren looked away, zipping up the bag and shouldering it. "Well, first we're going to the PokéMart," he revealed, "I'll tell you more once we're done there." Siman's curiosity was certainly not satisfied, but he knew he wouldn't get much else. When Ren got quiet, there was no hope getting him to talk.

Sora looked bored. She drew her brown bangs out of her eyes and thumbed through a magazine behind the counter when Ren entered the PokéMart. On summer days the clientele was mostly kids reading the 2p Junior Trainer guides and window-shopping. In grade school he had done the same, until he was old enough to start taking classes at the pokémon centre, get his trainer's licence, and join Baylo's Gym.

Sora looked up from her magazine. Ren could make out the cover: Rare Pokemon, with an articuno in flight. It was the "Exotic Lands Edition". She smiled, "Oh hey, Ren! Here for some potions?" She reached over to the newsstand next to the counter, "And look, the new issue of Trainer Trends is in."

Ren bit his lip, nervous as he always was around her. "Actually, it's s-something a little bigger…" he stammered.

"Is it a pokédex? I can give you a good price on a used one," she moved to the display to her left. She was perky, probably just glad to have a customer.

Ren took a deep breath, "No," he declared, "I need a Silph Co. Masterball."

Sora's eyebrows arched. "A Masterball? You know those are 150p right? Where did you get that kind of money? What gives?" She seemed genuinely concerned, but Ren couldn't let anything slip. He said nothing.

"There's nothing around Rang Bay that you can't catch with a regular pokéball or maybe a great ball at most," She took out a budget brand great ball, with its blue top and red slashes, and showed him, "Wild pokémon around here that you'll want to deal with won't be much higher than level 28. If you go up against anything stronger you and your pokémon could be in danger." Sora was like a sister to all the young trainers in Rang Bay. She was only sixteen, but already had had three badges in-province and two from out. Her staryu named Selide was nationally ranked in-species, and she often talked about her dream of becoming a master and opening her own gym someday, so she could teach apprentice trainers. She volunteered at the pokémon centre and often sparred with trainers much older than her at Baylo's Gym. All the kids idolized her. Hiro claimed that he would marry her someday.

Ren tried to evade her questions, "It's just in case I find a really rare one when I'm out there. I wouldn't want to miss my chance."

Sora was nobody's fool. Her eyes searched his carefully. Her tone was casual, "This is the third one I've sold today." She watched Ren to see if he would react. She took out her keyring, opened up the display case behind the counter, and took out a Masterball. Ren's face was stone.

Since she got no hint from Ren's face, she let the issue drop. "Okay, that'll be 150p, then," she said as she rang it up on the cash register.

Ren picked up two full heal potions and placed them on the counter. "Add these too."

Sora lips pursed, as though there was more that she wanted to say, but she suppressed the urge and chuckled, "Okay, big spender. That'll be 170p."

He handed her the gift card and the cash. She ripped off the receipt with a little extra force, and went to put it all in a shopping bag, but Ren gathered them all up, protesting, "Oh it's all right! I don't need a bag, I'll just put it all in my backpack.

As he unzipped the pack and added his purchases to the load, Sora eyed him. "Well if you won't tell me what's up just promise me you're not chasing some fisherman's story of a giant gyarados."

Ren forced a smile to ease her mind, "I promise."

Siman jumped up onto the counter, and began to sign furiously at Sora, "He won't tell me either! Make him tell!"

Sora just laughed with surprise, "Hey Siman! You're full of energy today!" She turned to Ren, and asked "What's he saying?"

"He said he missed you," Ren lied.

The infuriated mankey pulled his trainer's hair in exasperation. "I didn't say that!" he protested.

Sora remained oblivious. She grinned and held out her arms, "Come here, Siman! Give me a hug," she cooed. The misunderstood pokémon reluctantly jumped into her arms, glaring at Ren. They cuddled for a moment.

"So uh, Sora," Ren tried to keep his tone casual, "The other two Masterballs you sold…"
She paused from tickling Siman behind his ear and looked up, "Oh – Yeah. It was weird. One was a tough looking guy in a suit and sunglasses. Never seen him in town before. The other one was Kenshi. You know… the boy from Ryen's tackle shop? He's a year below me in school. Strange guy. Always stares at people."

Ren knew Kenshi. He would always hang out at Baylo's, but never battled anyone. He claimed to have a Level 80 charizard named Jayzard. He always boasted that his pokémon were too strong to waste beating up little kids. Everyone knew he was a liar. No one liked him, but he was always around.

Siman hopped from Sora's arms onto Ren's shoulders. "Well thanks Sora. I'll see you around soon."

Sora's smile didn't reach her eyes. She could tell something was up. She grabbed Ren's hand, "Hey, Ren? Whatever you're up to… Please be careful, okay?"

Ren's smile was effortless, "Of course. I'll be fine as long as I have Siman with me. Right pal?" He turned his head toward his partner in crime. Siman grunted in agreement.

Ren hurried away from the PokéMart, heading back through Rang Bay's tiny downtown back toward the marina. Siman scurried to catch up, but then stopped suddenly, growling and grunting to get his trainer's attention. Ren turned, and Siman signed, "Now you tell. Tell where we're going."

Ren shook his head, "It's not safe here, I'll tell you in a minute." He turned back and kept walking. Siman had no choice but to follow.

Ren took them through the fish market to avoid being seen near Ryen's shop again. They passed the ferry to Boso that ran hourly from dawn to dusk. He and Hiro caught it every day at 7 in the morning during the school year, or else risked getting suspended for being late. Next to the ferry crossing was the lookout pier. At the end stood the grizzled old harbour master, next to a raichu that looked even older than he did. His eyes scanned up and down the bay, ever alert. It was an old custom in Rang Bay for the harbour masters standing guard over the port to keep raichus to protect the fisherfolk and their boats against attacks by gyarados. In the older times the giant water dragons had been a serious menace all up and down the coast. There hadn't been a gyarados seen in Rang Bay since the one that had carried off Ren's grandfather, who had been a harbour master when Ren's father was just a boy.

After the lookout pier, there was nothing but the dunes and scrub that bordered the Flats Beach. Ren went far enough up that no one would notice him, took Siman on his shoulders, and scampered up the dune. He plodded through the dry sand, and slid down the other side.

Even at the height of summer, no bathers came to the Flats Beach, or, as the locals called it, Poison Beach. The muddy tidal flats stretched out as far as half a kilometre, and were known haunt of grimers, kinglers, and even cloysters, while the waters near the shore teemed with venomous jellyfish, and opportunistic mud sharks, as well as the golducks and poliwhirls who preyed on them. At the top of the dunes there were signs spread out along the perimeter warning people to stay away.

The forest that grew along the Strand, west of the mouth of the bay, was not a calm nature walk either. Ekans nested there in the spring, and hives of beedrills were known to be concealed in the bushes. Hiro once claimed to have seen a vileplume in the woods near his house, but no one really believed him. Even experienced pokémon trainers rarely went further into than a kilometre into the forest, but the Rang-Ino had made these woods, Rang Bay, and the Strand their home for thousands of years before they disappeared. Only shadows of their culture remained, in the names of the mountains, in the legends of the forest, the cliffs, and the great bay, and in the whispers of their wisdom passed down by elders.

Ren veered away from the mud, through the sand and wild dune grass, plodding toward the edge of the forest. He noticed that he was alone. Siman stood behind him, planted in place with his arms folded resolutely. When his master turned to him, he unfolded his arms and signed, "No farther. You lie and lie. But I won't believe you. You tell me now where we're going." His tone was clipped. Used to be Siman went along with everything Ren did, and trusted him implicitly, but he was becoming more and more independent and stubborn, and this time Ren had pushed him to the limit of blind trust. He had been so focused on his goal that he had neglected his best friend.

Ren sighed, abashed, "It's Eundunja."

Siman was confused at first, he held his hands out palms-up in his version of a clueless shrug.

Ren knew that abstract concepts were difficult for his friend, so he explained slowly, "It's the perfect pokémon. The one from the book. Remember I read it to you?" A look of understanding began to dawn behind the mankey's permanently furrowed brow. Ren continued, "Ryen saw it this morning. Eundunja is here." Ren explained everything that had happened, slowly and carefully, until Siman grasped it all. "And the man in black, and Kenshi the shop boy are out there ahead of us. They may not know enough to track it properly, but they have a head start," Ren concluded. He fell silent and let the little pokémon consider what he had heard.

"I'm only Level 12…I can't fight the Big Thing," Siman protested. Lacking an exact sign for "Eundunja", he approximated.

Ren nodded, "I know, pal."

Siman raised his hands in a shrug again, as if to ask "So how then?"

"We will have to outsmart it," Ren explained, "Your job will be to distract it. You have the speed and agility, especially climbing, that you can run it in circles."

Siman frowned, "But I need to weaken it if you want to catch it. I don't have enough attack."

Ren reached into his bag and pulled out his ace. "You're forgetting this. This Masterball will catch and hold any pokémon, even at full strength. All you have to do is distract Eundunja so he can't jump out of the way."

Siman was impressed. He ran his fingers over the Masterball, as if to feel its power. Ren pulled it away and zipped it back up in his gear bag. "First thing though, we need to get on his trail. And we have to do it carefully. Eundunja hates running into people, and other pokémon. If he realizes we're on his trail, he'll be much harder to find," Ren reminded his friend.

Siman grinned, "It's not me who needs to worry about making noise," he signed, pointing to his motionless mouth. Ren chuckled – his friend did have a point.

They continued up the Flats, trying to stay on the dry sand. As they got closer to the West Sound, the dune grass got thicker and sharper. Ren winced as one of the blades sliced into his calf. In spite of the heat, he regretted wearing shorts. He bent over and squeezed the cut. Turning to Siman he said, "Let's move down a little bit. We won't get too far into the mud, I think it'll be okay."

Siman shrugged, as usual, trusting his trainer to know what was best. They moved down off the dune and onto the mud flat that narrowed as it receded into the sea at the enormous mouth of Rang Bay. The mud near the high tide line had been exposed since just before daybreak, and was dried out and crusting over in most places. Ren walked carefully to avoid sinking into a quagmire and losing one of his hiking boots. He placed his right foot gingerly on a spot of hardened mud, and moved to put his weight on it, until it suddenly exploded out of the ground, knocking him onto his back.

"Kooooooo! Kksssssss!" shouted the mound, now dancing from side-to-side in a threat display. It was a krabby, furious at being disturbed. It flashed its claws, and swiped at Ren as he pulled himself back with his elbows.

"Siman, headbutt now!" he commanded.

His mankey jumped into action without hesitation. He pushed off with his spry legs and knocked the mud-caked krabby onto its back. The krabby rolled over, and Siman jumped back to avoid the eight-legged tackle it offered in retaliation, and ended up beside Ren, who was also back on his feet. The boy kicked wildly at the water pokémon, and connected. It scuttled away sideways, dropping into a puddle of mud after twenty metres and disappearing.

Ren wiped the mud off his hands with a handkerchief he kept in his cargo pocket, then used his clean hand to ruffle Siman's hair. "Well done, pal," he commended, "You all right?"

Siman grunted affirmatively and hopped up on his human's shoulders, keeping a lookout while Ren watched his feet for the rest of the walk up Poison Beach.

Worry tugged at Ren's mind as they trudged. He had been running on adrenaline and desire since he had heard Ryen blurt out the name "Eundunja". He had a plan, such as it was, but what if it wasn't enough? Of the three people tracking the shy beast, Ren had to assume that he was the least experienced in battle. His few attempts to weaken and capture wild pokémon had been failures. A rattata had managed to run off, a caterpie's string shot had left Siman paralyzed, and a diglett had popped out of the earth to knock both the pokémon and his trainer to the ground. He had to have faith that his knowledge of Eundunja would give him the upper hand. He had read every single book on the recluse that the library had. (Heck, he had read every book they had on pokémon for that matter). If anyone was prepared to come face-to-face with the beast, it was him.

The mud began to give way to rocks, and soon they reached the West Sound of Rang Bay. Ren checked his watch. It was 12:07. He pulled the canteen from the side pocket of his bag, and took a sip. He passed it to Siman to take a drink and looked around. They had to be getting close to the spot where Ryen had first sighted Eundunja, off the sound among the rocks, eating seaweed. The rocks were enormous, jutting up out of the water.

According to the Rang-Ino, the rocks off the West Sound had once been a mountain – a fifth Huntsman – who betrayed his brothers and allied with the god of the sea. In the end, the god of the sea betrayed him in turn, and sent a great storm that brought him crashing down.

Nowadays, the rocks were teeming with fish and water pokémon, hidden among the crevices, and fishermen would risk all, inching their boats as close as possible in hopes of a rare catch. Rumour was that Ryen claimed to be in the process of perfecting an unsnaggable jighead; no doubt that morning he had been testing his prototype.

Ren and Siman examined the sandy bank, stippled with smooth stones. The tide had gone out a long way since 4:30 in the morning, and Ren focused on the dry sand above the tide line, looking for tracks. It was clear, after their long walk up the tidal flats, that this was a remote place that very few would travel on foot to get to. Walking along Poison Beach to emerge between a pile of rocks and a dark forest couldn't be anyone's first choice for a picnic date.

There were marks and disturbances in the wave patterns in the dry sand formed by the sea breeze, but Ren could not identify what had made them. It wasn't like in the movies where the resourceful tracker always knew instantly what kind of tracks he was looking at, what they meant, and what he should do next. The prints could have been made by a dog and its owner frolicking on the shore, or by a diglett surfacing to catch a hermit crab. PokéScouts hadn't been enough to turn him into a perfect hunter.

He did have Siman, however. Mankey are blessed with large, pig-like snouts, and can follow scents better than nearly any other pokémon. Ren was gambling that Siman's inborn ability to read the wind would get them ahead of the others who hunted Eundunja.

He sniffed up and down the beach, and Ren followed, looking for any clues. Siman stopped at a place where the sand was disturbed, and told Ren, "People here today. Not long ago." The mankey still looked unsure. He tilted his head, as if to let a thought roll around in his skull. Ren walked over to a big willow tree whose branches canopied the beach from the edge of the woods. Maybe it wasn't such a bad place for a picnic after all.

Suddenly, Siman ran past him and scampered up the tree. He started to shout, "Hoo! Ha! MANKEY!"

"Quiet Siman, I mean it!" said Ren through his teeth.

The little pokémon jumped down from the tree and started signing frantically, "Scratches! Scratches! Big Thing! No human not here no."

His signs came so fast that they were almost slurred, but Ren understood. "Did Eundunja climb this tree?" he tried to clarify.

Siman nodded furiously, "Slept here. All night."

Ren's jaw dropped. Was it possible? Could the great recluse have spent the night so close to a human settlement? Eundunja was a proven distance swimmer, as he had demonstrated by showing up in Alaska, and later in Hawaii. He was known to swim entire oceans without eating and barely sleeping, relying on stored fat for energy. And now that he had shown up in a remote coastal area, Ren could only assume that he had just finished a long swim to get there. It made sense then: if Eundunja had finally arrived at the West Sound, exhausted and famished, he would have no choice but let his guard down and sleep right near the sea, in the first place he could find, and venture out to eat as soon as he woke up. It was the mostly likely time for him to be spotted, and so he was.

Siman continued, "I can smell – it's a big smell, a dangerous smell." It made sense. Most of the DNA used to make Eundunja came from big, strong pokémon, and the small mankey's sense of smell was designed to help it evade such creatures. He kept sniffing the air, moving toward the trees. "The smell is this way," Siman pointed into the forest, "It's weak, but I can follow it."

Ren needed no convincing. "Let's get moving," he grinned.

They turned inland from the sound and walked through the woods. Ren's compass ensured that they were headed south, and even though the forest canopy blocked his view, the map confirmed that they were walking toward the mountains. The breeze was blowing in hard from the sea, and while it was refreshing on a hot day, and easier to walk with the wind at their backs, being upwind had its problems. The salty, moist air coming off the water swept away other scents before it, and concealed what lay ahead until Ren and Siman were standing nearly on top of them. They walked through the thick woods with no hint of what was ahead.

Siman also had trouble locating the scent that they were tracking, as it mingled with the many rich stories the air had to tell. They were often forced to stop while Siman sniffed around to get them back on track.

In spite of the bustling port town to the southeast, the forest at the foot of The Huntsmen Mountains had not changed in a thousand generations, except for the highway that belted the forest's edge as it followed the mountain range north and west parallel to the seashore, and connected Rang Bay to the more populated areas of the province. This forest was unlike the grass fields due south of the city that bordered on the farmland on the south side of the mountain, where trainers went to catch basic pokémon. In the tall grass, the pokémon were more feral than wild. Ren and Siman had entered the true wilderness, untouched by modern humans. This was the home of wild creatures who needed deeper reaches in which to hide.

Sora had once told the younger kids at Baylo's Gym a Rang-Ino legend. Sora's grandmother had heard it from her own grandmother, who had heard from a woman who was among the last of the Rang-Ino ever seen in the area:

"Once, a Rang-Ino family sat around the fire, and they were so hungry from a day of hunting, and so exhausted from the chase, that they forgot to thank the gods for their bounty.

"And as they finished eating, a wild ninetails stepped into their camp and told them, 'You have cursed your people, for you have forgotten the generosity of the gods. You have forgotten the mountains who watch over you, you have forgotten the trees that provide shelter, and you have forgotten the sea who feeds you. If you are content to provide for yourselves, without their blessings, then the gods will leave this land, and your people will make their own destiny.'

"And the ninetails showed them a vision in flame, of possible futures: of tribulation and of exile, of conquest, of wisdom... They saw monsters in the forest who looked like men, they smelled poisonous smoke, and they saw a stone rising out of the sea.

"After that, they pled with the ninetails for forgiveness, begging to return their people to the good graces of the gods, but she only replied, 'The gods have already left, but they leave behind their messengers like me, in the pokémon of the forest, the birds in the air, the fish in the sea. Through us, they will hear you.'"

Whether or not it was true that the pokémon who lived in the shadow of The Huntsmen were messengers of the gods, they were numerous, and some were dangerous. None of them, however, were any match for Eundunja, who, in spite of his power and ferocity, wanted nothing to do with any of them.

No one had an exact explanation for the reclusive pokémon's odd behaviour patterns. The experts speculated and debated endlessly. Some argued that Eundunja was hyper-intelligent, even cleverer than the humans who pursued him, thus allowing him to outsmart all who hunted him. Others argued that Dr. Kim's efforts to program "an hermetic lifestyle" into his DNA had been too effective, making flight from human contact the creature's top priority. Some argued that Kim's creation would have failed at its mission of patrolling pockets of forest and coastline along the DMZ, since it only seemed to turn to aggression as a last resort when cornered or surprised. Not that there was enough evidence to draw conclusions. The scientists were always careful to qualify their hypotheses.

Still others believed that Eundunja was learning. He had been seen four times in the first six years after he escaped, but hadn't been seen in the last four years. Some critics suggests that the genetic manipulation had caused Dr. Kim's monster to die of some cancer, far away in the barrens. They were wrong though. Eundunja was back.

Ren checked his compass to make sure they were still headed almost due south. He checked the map, and guessed that the scent trail would turn more toward the west soon, taking them deeper into the forest. It would be more difficult for Siman to isolate Eundunja's odour in the thicker foliage, and more difficult for both of them to spot bigger pokémon, which is exactly why the clever hermit would go that way. Ren wasn't looking forward to what they might encounter in the heart of the forest, but danger, after all, was what he had signed them up for.

Ren decided that it was never too early to be cautious. He nodded in the direction they had been headed. "Siman, climb up and see if you can get the lay of the land. Tell me what you can see," he ordered.

The nimble mankey scampered up an old cedar tree that jutted up from a stand of younger oaks and maples. He disappeared momentarily into the foliage.

It struck Ren that he had found Siman under a tree just like this one, near his house where the neighbourhood bordered on the great forest. He had been abandoned on a tuft of grass right at the edge of the woods. Ren had been wandering around in a daze. His mother had been cremated earlier that day. He and Siman had both been left motherless. He took the baby mankey home and fed him with an eyedropper. Every night as he put his charge to bed, he signed, "I'll never leave you. I'll take care of you," in the language his mother had taught him, until, one day, the little pokémon repeated the sign back to him.

A few moments passed as Ren remembered, and then Siman slid down the tree and landed gracefully on the ground beside his trainer. He reported, "Birds flying circles near a hill. Straight ahead. Not far."

Who knew what that meant? They could be hunting, keeping tabs on danger, or just lazily riding thermal updrafts. As Ren and Siman walked toward the hill, they began to hear squawks, and could see a small flock of spearow flying around, alighting on branches, skreighing, and rejoining the group to fly another circuit.

Siman seemed nervous being upwind, and unable to warn of possible danger. Spearow were naturally cowardly, and would most often fly from a threat, but he remained cautious. He bounded ahead and doubled back every so often, never getting winded.

Ren smiled. Seeing Siman diligently protecting him made him remember how much he loved his little friend. After he caught Eundunja, his whole life would change drastically, but he would always have his most trusted companion, no matter what.

Suddenly, everything was still. The spearow had all flown off as he and Siman had approached the hill, and Siman had gone ahead, but hadn't returned. He heard no grunts or shouts from his mankey, who had just run out of sight. Ren doubled his speed and scooted up to the top of hill, where he found Siman standing over a body.

Facedown, and with a pack spilled open, his arms were splayed out at his sides. Clutched in his right hand was a pokéball he had been too slow to throw. Siman looked up at Ren, saying nothing. He waited for his master to reassure him.

Ren kneeled and reached under the corpse's shoulder and rolled it onto its back. "It's Kenshi," he said quietly, "Ryen's shop boy." The skin on his face was cold and tight, but around the chest and stomach, he was still almost warm. Ren guessed that Kenshi must have set out even before he had arrived at Ryen's shop to wait for Hiro. Kenshi's search hadn't lasted long.

Siman sniffed the body for clues. He turned to Ren and shook his head, signing, "This smells bad. It's not right."

Ren cocked an eyebrow, wondering why Siman thought that a dead body ought to smell good. But from the pokémon's hesitant, strained signs, Ren realized that something was tugging at Siman's instincts – something he couldn't quite explain. Ren replied in sign language, "Sick?"

Siman frowned, and shook his head decisively.

Ren paused, "Poison?" he suggested.

Ren was mildly frustrated when Siman replied with his palms-up shrug, which just as often as it meant "I don't know", also meant "I don't now how to explain".

Ren bent over and went through Kenshi's bag. He found the purple Silph Co. Masterball, and two full heal potions, and stuffed them into his bag alongside the ones he had bought from Sora at the PokéMart. Then he zipped his bag and stood up. He motioned to his pokémon, "Let's get going," he ordered.

Siman stayed still and looked down at the lifeless teenaged boy. "What about him?" he protested.

Ren sighed impatiently, "He's dead, Siman. We can't help him," he signed the word "dead" for emphasis.

Siman made no move to go. His hands remained still as he looked into his trainer's eyes. Even through the permanent frown of a mankey, his eyes were sad.

Ren became exasperated, "Are you already giving up?" he signed quickly and sharply. Siman still did not reply. Ren was angry at his friend's stubbornness, "Don't you realize what this could mean for us? Catching the world's rarest pokémon?"

"Us?" Siman repeated.

Ren bent down and loomed over the small pokémon. He shot the words through his clenched jaw, "You think I'm not thinking about both of us?" he said in disbelief, "It's just me who needs to get out of that house? You like it when he throws cigarettes and bottles at you? Or when he says he'll drive you to the next town and leave you at the pokémon centre? And what about me? What happens on the day I can't protect you?"

Siman took the words like a slap. He looked away as Ren lashed out. His owner waited expectantly. The mankey turned slowly and replied, "And what about out here, when I can't protect you?"

Ren softened. He went down on one knee to meet Siman eye to eye. He assured him, "We're in this together. We will take care of each other. We're a team."

Siman wrung his hands with hesitation, but finally gave in, "I'll never leave you. I'll take care of you," he promised.

Ren stroked his head and lifted him onto his shoulders. They left Kenshi's body behind.

Siman climbed another tree and reported on the position and view of Mount Sula, the closest of The Huntsmen, and the one with the lowest peak. They were beginning to tack west as they continued south through the forest.

A solitary raven landed in a poplar tree, and watched them pass. It let out a hoarse croak, as if dismissing them, and flew on. Ren ignored it. The trees grew thicker as they moved deeper into the woods. There was no path, and it became harder and harder to see ahead. Ren motioned to the trees, indicating that Siman should get up higher and keep an eye on what was ahead.

The mankey moved effortlessly from tree to tree, jumping from branches like a powerful squirrel. He stopped against the trunk of an oak tree, listening. A group of pidgey and pidgeotto screeched a warning as they winged just above the forest canopy. Pidgeotto, the first evolution from pidgey, were known to get cocky and aggressive, and divebomb crows and other larger birds who tried to raid their nests for eggs. These ones seemed to be in quite a hurry, and didn't bother with the boy and his pokémon.

Ren looked up and signed, "See anything?"

Siman shook his head. He scampered up to the highest branch, then came down and confirmed, "Nothing." There was no clear vantage point. He jumped on Ren's shoulder and they moved cautiously through the grove in the direction the pidgey had come from. They reached a clearing, where the thick forest was broken up by an incline of exposed rock, with a few boulders peeking out of the grass, slowly being eroded into soil by wind and time.

Siman paused at the clearing, turning circles, sniffing at the air. He scratched his head and turned to Ren to shrug, palms-up. He added, "Can't smell. No Big Thing."

Ren knew better than to panic. He reassured his pokémon, "Just sniff around. You'll find it. I'm going to have a look around."

Ren ventured to the right, moving carefully among the rocks as Siman went straight, sniffing toward the other end of the clearing. Ren looked around, leaning slowly and deliberately into corners and crevices. It was better not to surprise a coiled ekans in its burrow, or a geodude camouflaged among the rocks. He noticed one boulder that jutted out of the ground. It was taller than him by about a metre. He examined all of its nooks carefully and found nothing but old dried out belly tracks on the ground near it that confirmed his suspicions about ekans. A little further to his right, however, he noticed a fresher disturbance, with moist dirt turned up in what looked like shallow dig marks.

Ren stood up and called out, "Siman, come see this!" There was no movement from the trees. Siman made no sound. Ren walked to the other edge of the clearing, where he had last seen his friend scurrying. "Siman! Where are you?" he shouted. He moved into the trees, looking for a mankey's trademark white fur. He pushed through the crisscrossing branches. Suddenly, he saw Siman right in front of him, standing completely still next to a maple. Hanging upside-down from a thick branch less than a metre away, was a big scyther, with its mandible bared. It let out a warning hiss.

Ren froze. "Siman, back away," he said, almost under his breath, "Come to me slowly."

The little guy didn't budge. The scyther shook its body, letting out a cloud of purple spores. Ren realized that Siman had been paralyzed by the bug pokémon's attack. Ren covered his mouth as the spores drifted by him. Unshouldering his bag as quickly as he could, he pulled out a paralyze-heal potion and thumbed the release switch. He lobbed it toward Siman. The aerosol potion sprayed up at his head and his arms creaked back to life.

Siman dove in front of his trainer as the scyther unwrapped its legs from the tree and moved toward the unwelcome human. It reared up to its full height. At around 6 feet, it towered over Ren and Siman both. It swung its sharp, blade-like forearms in a threat display.

Ren didn't hesitate, "Siman, take-down, go!"

Siman was unlike his species in some ways, but when it came to agility and quickness, he was no anomaly. He charged at the giant bug, and dodged its swinging blade arm as he jumped at its head. His legs wrapped around the scyther's neck as it leaned back to swipe at him. Using its backward momentum, Siman dropped his opponent flat on its back.

The six-foot bug monster writhed and thrashed as Siman jumped clear.

Ren wasted no time and yelled out, "He's stunned, quick! Here, pal!" Ren shouldered his gear pack as Siman jumped into his arms. He sprinted in the other direction, zigzagging through trees as he heard the scyther hissing behind as it picked itself up and gave chase. Ren didn't dare look back, ignoring the scratches he took from sharp branches as he held his arm up to shield his eyes.

He could hear the big bug chopping at branches, cutting a path through the brush. His machete-like chops slowed him down, and Ren used his smaller size to advantage, ducking overhanging branches as he kept Siman tucked tightly under his right arm. Ren crawled under a fallen wild apple tree, and got back on his feet and ran over a hill, hoping that the scyther would give up on them.

Sure enough, the noises behind them grew faint, and then stopped. Scythers were not made for chases through thick forest, preferring to sneak up on their prey using camouflage, and then paralyze them, as this one had attempted with Siman. Chest heaving, Ren stopped. He scanned in every direction for danger.

Siman made his way up a tree and looked around. He jumped down and reported "Clear," as Ren caught his breath, "I can't smell the Big Thing" he signed forlornly

Ren took out his map and compass. "I'll figure out where we are," Ren assured him, "I think we're only a little off the path," he replied, sounding more confident than he felt.

He considered. In order to find the scent again, he had to make an educated guess about which way Eundunja had headed. This was firmly in his wheelhouse. He knew everything that had ever been written about their elusive prey. He had it memorized like scripture, and loved to recite it.

He turned to Siman, "Every sighting of Eundunja before today was in a remote area," he began, "We can only assume that he was forced to come ashore at the West Sound because he was tired. But after a night's rest, and a little bit to eat, he's going to strike out away from here, right?" he asked rhetorically, "Do you know what every place he was sighted has in common, including the West Sound?" Siman raised his hands in a trademark shrug, as if to urge Ren to get to the point. Ren pointed at the map, at the illustration of the western edge of the mouth of Rang Bay, "Rocks. Eundunja favours mountainous terrain. There's a large golem component in his genome. He blends in in the mountains, and he feels comfortable there."

Siman scratched his head. He wasn't making the connection, he signed, "So what does that mean?"

Ren reshouldered his pack and looked toward the forest, "That means I know where he's going," he grinned. He pointed to a tall tree at the crest of a nearby hill, "Which way is the small mountain?"

On a clear day, you could see Mount Sula from the middle of the bay. Unless clouds had rolled in, there should be no problem correcting their course.

They moved over to the tree. Siman climbed up and pointed about 90 degrees from the way they had been running, and signed, "Small mountain."

Ren judged that they had run nearly due east from where they had met the scyther, and had to gain back that ground as quickly as possible if they wanted to reach Mt. Sula before the thug in black managed to track Eundunja. He calibrated the compass, marked the map with a pencil, and they set off.

Ren guessed that as they moved further south, the terrain would change. Sure enough, the trees began to thin out, and the rocky foothills began. With fewer and shorter trees to climb, Siman took to riding on Ren's backpack instead of scurrying to keep pace. According to Ren's map, before long they would cross the highway that led out of the town of Rang Bay and hugged the base of The Huntsmen Mountains.

What would he do if he were Eundunja? Ren weighed the possibilities. It was impossible to say for certain, but he had suspicions. Either he could assume that Eundunja continued on a straight path to the mountains, following the uphill slope, or, conversely, that due to his reclusiveness, he would avoid crossing the highway and the risk of walking through an open space with no cover, exposing himself to human onlookers at least a second time in one day. The third possibility was that Eundunja had been spooked by his encounter with Ryen, turned west and come out along the strand, returning to the water for another long distance swim to end up on another continent.

Ren especially doubted the third scenario. Having likely just finished a long swim, Eundunja was almost definitely in a weakened state, tired and undernourished. As long as he was getting his bearings, it seemed more likely that he would risk being spotted in the short term, as he had that morning. By that same logic, he would also risk crossing the road. It would be worth it to get to the higher ground, where he could find moss, lichen, and berries, and catch birds until he got his strength up for a real hunt. Up in the mountains, especially, there would be no humans to interfere with him.

The closest mountain was Mt. Sula, but the best way to figure out where Eundunja was headed was to figure out where he crossed the highway, which Ren gambled that he had.

"ARAK!" A harsh, shrieking squawk filled the air and echoed off the hills around them. It sounded like it was coming from the west.

Ren turned his head to talk to Siman, still resting on his gear bag, "What do you think that was, pal?"

Siman jumped down and scurried over to a nearby red pine and wormed his way through the needles to a better vantage point.

The calls came in clearer: "MO! MO!" Ren squinted to make out a creature with a wide wingspan approaching the tree that Siman had climbed to see it.
"ARK! ARAK! MOL-TREEEEEEES!"

A huge moltres dived into view, in a flash of gold feathers fringed with flame, talons extended toward Siman. The little mankey jumped clear of the tree as fire engulfed the little branch he had been perched on a split second before. Ren lunged to catch Siman as he fell to the ground. The moltres swung around, but instead of attacking again, it veered back the way it came. The flaming branch broke off from the tree and fell near Ren's feet. He stamped it out, eyes squinted against the smoke.

What was a moltres doing in these woods? It was one of the legendary birds, only to be found in the remote volcanoes near Kanto. How did it get all the way to Rang Bay? Why would it attack and just fly off?

Ren set Siman down on the ground gently, "Are you are all right buddy?" he asked.

"The flying pokémon is dangerous. He went for a kill," Siman replied ominously.

Ren shivered. "Let's keep moving," he insisted.

The deeper they ventured into the wild, the more dangerous it got. This time, Ren's anxiety didn't die down – it stayed with him, and he couldn't calm himself. As they walked, his head jerked from side to side and he couldn't stay still. It began to fully dawn on him that he was in a dangerous place. When they first set out he had felt the confidence of someone destined to succeed. Now every move they made seemed subject to chaos. Just as had happened to the Rang-Ino in Sora's Grandmother's story, it felt like the gods had abandoned him to the caprice of lesser spirits.

Suddenly a bush in front of him twitched. Ren jolted back in an instant of panic, and Siman squared up in an offensive stance, ready to charge at whatever came out of the bush before it had time to mount an attack of its own. A head poked cautiously through the leaves. It looked up at them hopefully and said, "Ni—Nidoran?"

Ren wasted no time, bellowing "Siman, headbutt!"

Still standing with his arms up, he didn't obey the commands. He sniffed at the nidoran and reached out his hand to it. The two pokémon looked at one another. "ManKEY! Mankey?" Siman called out to the new arrival.

"Nido," it replied calmly.

Siman turned to his trainer, "It's not wild. It's Lance!" he signed excitedly. He spelled out L-A-N-C-E with his hands just like Ren had taught him to.

"Hiro's Lance? Out here?" asked Ren incredulously.

"Maybe she ran into the woods and smelled us," Siman suggested.

Ren didn't care how she got there. "She needs to go home."

Siman frowned, "How?"

"She can't come with us," Ren insisted.

The little mankey wrapped his arms around his erstwhile sparring partner. "It's not safe for her in these woods," he argued, "She needs us."

Ren shook his head in disbelief, "We need to catch Eundunja!" he said sharply, "Now leave her."

Siman sat down next to Lance and held out his hand. She licked it.

Ren stomped his foot commandingly. "Now you do as I say, Siman. Siman. I'm your trainer. I take care of us."

Siman put out his hands in his helpless shrug. "We risk our lives, and now Lance's?" he protested, "When is it too much?" Siman cast his eyes downward as he signed.

"Don't you understand? We have to get away from him!" Ren's voice broke into a squeak as he shouted.

Siman's stubbornness was driving him crazy. It seemed that at every turn his pokémon was trying to sabotage him. It was as if he didn't even want to succeed.

"Fine!" he spat, "I'm going. You two can go back on your own. Good luck finding your way home."

He stormed off. Siman would come around when he realized what was good for him. In the meantime, let him fret a bit. But in spite of his cool logic, Ren found himself fuming uncontrollably. There was a depth to his anger that filled every inch of his body. He stomped through the forest as fast as he could.

All the terror and frustration he had been through that day had taken its toll. There was nothing for it – he choked up and began to sob. He hadn't cried like that since his mother had died. He'd always been able to hold his breath and keep a straight face, even when his father blackened his eye and threatened to use Siman to bait his hooks, but that day he cried until he was gasping for breath. He pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face and screamed into it, then rolled onto his side on the ground and sobbed the rest of his frustration out lightly into his forearm.

He felt calmer when he rolled over and picked himself up. He looked around to get the lay of the land. Downhill from where he was, he realized could see the highway, with the base of Mt. Sula rising up on the other side, flowing though like a canyon stream made of asphalt.

Now that he was in his right mind, he knew he'd be able to find a solution to the problem of Lance. They could bring her along and return her to Hiro afterward. Heck she was small enough to ride in Ren's gear bag.

He listened to the forest but heard only tree frogs in the distance, the dissonant music of hot days. Why hadn't Siman given in and come after him? Could he really be that hard-headed? Ren retraced his steps back toward the stand of red pines where he had left the two little pokémon. He called out, "Siman! Come here, pal!" He quickened his pace and continued shouting, "I'm sorry. You know that. Please come here! I found the road!"

Suddenly, Ren felt a violent impact from behind and fell forward, the wind completely knocked out of him. A face appeared crouched down next to him. It was the man in the black suit from Ryen's tackle shop.

"Good thing you found the road! I was worried about getting lost again," he said, grinning cruelly. He picked Ren up by his waist, and headed west, parallel to the highway, with the preteen boy over his shoulder. He called out ahead of him, "Han! I got the other one!"

A moment later they arrived on the other side of small thicket where Han was waiting. He was a petty thug stamped in the same mould as his partner. Aside from being slightly taller and thinner, and with a well-shaped goatee instead of a thin moustache, they could have been brothers. A machine pistol hung from his shoulder. Next to him, Ren recognized his friend Hiro, propped up against a rock with his hands zip-tied and his mouth gagged with tape. On Han's other side was the moltres that had attacked them, with Lance pinned under its talons. A mean-looking charmeleon held Siman's arms, scratching him with his long claws if he kicked too much.

Hiro's sobs were muffled by the tape, but Ren kept his face expressionless. His eyes were hard and calculating. He spoke without a quaver in his voice, "My name is Ren. What do you want from us?" he asked flatly.

The shorter man reached into his jacket and pulled out a semi-automatic handgun. He took out the clip, removed the chambered round, re-inserted the clip and flicked on the safety. Once he had finished his threat display, he answered, "You can call me Yang," his tone was mock-friendly, imitating a cordial business conversation, "And I want to know…what you're doing in these woods."

Ren knew well enough how to lie. Most of all, however, he knew what to say to keep from getting a backhand, so he was aware of how dangerous it was to be caught in a lie. He stayed vague. "We're pokémon trainers. We're going after wild pokémon."

Yang grabbed Ren's gear bag, yanking it from his shoulders. He threw it over to Han and turned back to Ren, "Did you catch any?" he asked patronizingly.

A rhetorical question. Ren knew better than to answer.

Han unzipped the bag and began to empty it, dumping all of Ren's supplies on the ground. He put his hand to his mouth in mock surprise, "Wow! A Silph Co. Masterball," he gasped, "No! Two of them!" He turned to Yang in feigned shock, "Two Masterballs and no pokémon?" asked incredulously.

Ren kept his eyes still and shrugged, "No worthy ones yet."

Yang smiled ominously, "No luck today, huh?" The gangster turned to his charmeleon and nodded. Siman let out an "Oof!" as the bigger pokémon threw him to ground and kicked him with a sharp-clawed foot.

Ren remained still as his stomach filled with cold anger. His ears rumbled and his cheeks grew hot.

Yang cocked his head and continued, "Where were you at 9:40 this morning?"

Ren clenched his jaw.

"And be careful with your answer," Yang warned him, "Because your runty friend told us you were meeting with him right in front of Ryen's tackle shop. And later on he says he followed you from the PokéMart where you bought a Masterball. Then you went up to the West Sound then turned inland—Now why would you do that?—Then he lost track of you and wandered toward the highway until his route intercepted ours."

Ren tried to be nonchalant, shrugging, "If you know it all, then why are you asking?"

The back of Yang's hand swept across his face. He dropped the mocking tone and spoke with plain menace, "I'm trying to figure out if it's worth keeping you alive," he informed the boy, "I'm already having serious doubts about your friend and your pokémon. Give me a reason."

Ren now knew where he stood. In spite of a head start, these armed thugs had to resort to threatening a pair of middle-schoolers to make progress tracking Eundunja. He made his play, "Unless you had an arcanine sniff up and down the beach at the West Sound, my guess is that my mankey is the only one here who knows the scent of what you're looking for. Your moltres can scout and create a diversion from the air while your charmeleon concentrates on inflicting raw damage, but first you have to find it." Yang and Han looked at each other. Yang took off his sunglasses and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. Ren had their attention. "If you knew how to track it you wouldn't have been sweeping east to west in southward zigzags until you reached the highway," he reasoned, "I know where you need to go."

Yang just laughed, "And why should we believe that a little punk kid like you is the one to guide us?"

Ren threw his hands up, "I spent five years in PokéScouts. I earned every badge," he exaggerated, "I was the second youngest kid in the Rang Bay ever to pass the test for a Junior Trainer's Licence—" that part was true—"If you knew how to get where you were going we wouldn't all be standing here."

Han looked at Yang, and his face betrayed a moment's uncertainty. It was all Ren needed as leverage to strike a deal. "Let Hiro and Lance go and I'll help you get where you need to go," he offered.

Han shook his head, "No. They know too much."

Yang considered, "We never told the runt what we're looking for."

Ren pressed, "The window is closing. If we can't find him before dark, he'll disappear again. Hiro will take almost that long just to get back to town following the road."

Yang was decided. He beckoned with his left hand and the charmeleon released Siman from under his foot. The mankey bounded up into his trainer's arms. Yang opened a pokéball and the mean charmeleon turned into a flash of light and was sucked back into the little red and white sphere. Han paused moment and then did the same with his moltres, following Yang's lead. They clipped the pokéballs to their belts.

Yang went into his jacket again, and Ren gulped as he twirled open a butterfly knife. He exhaled relieved as the man bent down and used it to cut Hiro loose. The little boy let out a yelp as Yang ripped the tape off of his mouth. The younger boy turned and said, "I'm sorry Ren, I— "

"No Hiro. It's okay," Ren interrupted, "Just listen to me."

Hiro sniffled and fell silent.

Ren held him by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes, "You walk as fast as you can away from here to the road and follow it back to town. Go straight home and don't tell anyone what you saw," he instructed.

Hiro shook his head in protest, sobbing silently.

Ren hugged him, keeping his face brave, "You're going to be just fine, and so am I. I know how to get these guys where they need to go. Then they'll have no reason not to let me go free," Ren lied. In fact, he could think of several good reasons why that might prove to be untrue, but he would worry about that later.

Hiro collected himself and gathered Lance up in his arms. He gave Ren a hopeful smile, "Get back safe," he said bravely, though his lip quivered. He turned and ran down the hill toward the shoulder of the highway.

Han shouldered a hiking pack and cradled his little machine gun. Yang stood and straightened his suit jacket. "I have a good feeling about you, Ren," he said congenially, "So I'm gonna make a deal with you. If you help us capture Eundunja, we'll take you with us to our buyer and give you a 20,000p reward. I bet there's a lot you could do with that kinda money."

Ren's eyes flashed in a moment of greed, but he didn't believe a word.

"Where to, Eundunja expert?" asked Han.

Ren looked at his map and answered, "We lost track of the scent when we were attacked by a huge scyther, but, according to Kim Jin Bae, the scientist who created him, Eundunja was genetically programmed with instincts to seek areas that are thinly populated, and to live off the land within a small territory," Ren explained confidently, knowing that if he failed to convince them of his expertise he was in trouble. He continued, "The Korean government planned to deploy hundreds of them, as a net along the DMZ. And that way they wouldn't interfere with one another."

"So we need to go back in the woods?" Han asked.

Ren shook his head, "Eundunja only goes into the woods to hunt or forage, or to patrol his territory. Right now he's in an unfamiliar place, so he's looking for safety first, and food when he can get it. He'll head for high ground and look for shelter in the rocks," Ren pointed over to Mt. Sula, now close enough to loom over them, "The further out of the deep woods we get, the fewer scents there will be to confuse my mankey."

Yang poked the compass hanging from Ren's neck, "Figure out where we need to go. Quickly," he said menacingly. He turned to his partner and instructed, "Watch the kid while I take a leak, then we're going."

Han sat on a boulder to lessen the weight of the pack while Ren marked the map with a pencil based on his view of the mountain, and calibrated his compass to point them in the most likely direction. Then he bent down and refilled his pack with the contents that Han had spilled out.

Siman sidled up to him at an angle. He kept his movements almost casual, but seemed to be trying to communicate with his eyes. He raised his eyebrows as high as they would go. He wanted Ren to tell him what they were going to do next. Siman's hands didn't move. They both knew they couldn't risk letting the two thugs see how they could communicate.

Yang returned from the bushes. "Where to, Chief PokéScout?" he mocked.

Ren ignored the quip, and answered "We're too far southeast. Eundunja will be heading away from human settlements. He would have crossed further up the highway," he said with a dry professionalism. He stood, and looked directly into Yang's sunglasses, "We follow the road uphill and west, until we find the scent again," he explained, "Then we follow his path up into the mountains."

Yang only raised his eyebrow, "And that scent better show up very soon," he warned skeptically, "Let's go."

They walked uphill along the edge of the ravine that led down to the highway. The land began to slope uphill as they walked by Mt. Sula. As the road turned north little by little as it went west, the other Huntsmen Mountains, Mt. Ko, Mt. Chel, and Mt. Tosi, named for the lost hunter gods of a doomed people, loomed, each peak folding into the larger one behind it.

It occurred to Ren that the Rang-Ino had had a sad end. All that was left of them were the names of some mountains, and a bay, and some whispered legends. Those, and the spearheads and fishhooks that were littered all around the area, commonly found by bathers, pokémon trainers, and the rare hikers adventurous enough to go into the forest.

Siman and Ren walked at the head of the party. Yang walked to Ren's left, cutting him off from a dash to the highway, and Han brought up rear with his submachine gun. The gangsters kept their eyes moving, scanning the trees for movement. It seemed as though they had learned some lessons in these woods as well. There was no chit-chat.

Siman looked up and waited for his stoned-faced master to glance down at him. He threw off a quick sign when Yang and Han weren't looking, "Do we run?"

Ren looked forward again and shook his head stiffly. He piped up, "Siman what do you smell?"

The mankey climbed up a stunted aspen tree and sniffed. He pointed west, in the direction they were going, a little further up the curve of the road. The humans hastened behind the pokémon's keen snout. A little up the way, they smelled it themselves. When they arrived at the source, Ren stifled a gag.

Beside a few boulders and boxwood shrubs, there was what remained of a forest pig. Its abdomen was torn open and its ribcage was cracked apart. There were flies on every inch of the remains, strewn carelessly on the bloodstained sand.

Yang turned to Ren for an explanation, "Well?"

Ren examined the carcass, breathing through his mouth and pretending he was looking at anything else. "This pig was definitely killed by wild dogs," he decided, "It was torn apart by at least a half a dozen sets of jaws and picked clean."

The two men in black looked at each other. They clearly couldn't glean anything from what they were looking at. Ren looked Yang in the eye. The gangster considered the young trainer's interpretation of the scene. Siman was puzzled, he cocked his head at Ren in confusion. Han looked around for more evidence, while Yang bent down to check the carcass himself.

Siman stood on the boulder, moving his hands slowly and carefully, so the two men wouldn't notice the movements. He signed out, "Not dogs. Big Thing."

Ren shot Siman a look of warning, "Play along!" he replied silently.

As Yang rose, Ren made it look like his signing hands were just readjusting his cap.

Yang ran his thumb along his moustache thoughtfully, "So. If Eundunja didn't do this, why did your mankey follow his nose here?" he mused, "Hmm? I'm not looking for a guided tour of all the flyblown corpses littering the woods," he spat.

Ren wanted to look at Siman, wanted to make sure that he understood what was going on, but the slightest glance would give away the game. And Siman wasn't good at tricks. Instead, he sidestepped by explaining, "The kill is hours old. Eundunja would have smelled it and changed his course to investigate. But once he got close enough to smell the dogs, he would have veered out of the way to avoid them. Dogs are a scent closely associated with humans. He is genetically programmed to avoid humans – His priority is stealth, and he's cunning about it," Ren insisted.

Yang held out his hand and rotated his wrist, indicating his boredom with Ren's explanations. "Get to the point," he snapped.

Ren inclined his head deferentially. He knew how to handle a man with a short temper. He laid it out for them, "We have to go further up from this kill, to the more remote reaches to the northwest, and as we get further from the lingering scent of the dogs, we can predict where we will find Eundunja's scent – And therefore, where he crossed the highway."

Siman stared at Ren. His eyes were narrowed. He wanted desperately to understand, but the complexities of human deceit were beyond his ken.

Ren saw his friend's eyes, and spoke as plainly as he could, "I will lead us away from the kill, to the higher ground, the rocky places," he paused, "Then," he looked directly as his pokémon, "Siman will find the scent again," he promised, "And the fresher it is, the stronger it will be," he reminded them, "So let's hurry."

Han looked to Yang for a decision. Yang nodded, finding no flaw with the plan, and reflected, "The boy knows how important it is for him that his mankey finds the scent, so I think we can trust him to look out for his best interests."

Ren kept his face still and nodded. Inside he felt like he had swallowed cement. He had pushed his money to middle of the table, now all he needed was the cards.

***
They walked up the steepening hills until the trees had almost entirely given way to low scrub and bushes. The trees that did manage to eke out a living in the rocky soil were gnarled and stunted. As the terrain began to tilt upward, the hunting party had to find paths around sheer faces of rough limestone.

This was the beginning of the area that the Rang-Ino called the "Clean Land", though linguists argued that "Barren Land" was a more accurate translation, because there was little there for them to hunt. The ascetic mountain gods and their servant spirits neither ate nor drank, but lived off of rock alone. Rang-Ino petroglyphs could still be found around the borders of this taboo place, warning of curses and doom for those who stepped foot there.

Siman scurried up a rock face, swinging from a wild juniper branch that poked out through a crevice. He sniffed everywhere he went.

Han struggled to keep his balance. The weight of the pack made him unsteady in his black wingtips. "Fuck this mountain," he complained, "Should have gotten hiking boots."

Yang snorted, "Ha! Poor grandfather needs his comfy shoes. Quit complaining and keep your eyes open."

Siman looked at Ren as he climbed past the two armed men. They reached the top of the rock face, and found that they were less than thirty metres from the road. As Ren dusted himself off, he took the lay of the land, and saw that they were now directly across from the hills that separated Mt. Chel and Mt. Ko. – The middle of The Huntsmen, and the heart of the Clean Land.

Ren signed quickly to his co-conspirator, "Scent now. Going that way!" he pointed across the highway.

When Yang and Han hoisted themselves up a moment later, Siman obligingly put on a starring performance as an alingual beast. He pointed to the other side of the highway and hooted, "MANKEY! MA MA! Ooh-hooo!"

Ren laid it on thick too, "You got the scent, boy? The Big Thing?"

Siman jumped up and down nodding in confirmation. To put a bow on it, Ren opened his bag and threw Siman a dried apricot out of a baggie. "Well done, Siman," he brayed.

Yang's eyebrows shot up. His eyes had never seemed hungrier, greedier, or less critical. He swallowed the lure, just as Ren had hoped he would. "How close is it?" he barked.

Ren studied his map and frowned, "If we're re-intercepting the scent here, it probably looped wide to avoid the dogs, then doubled back toward the highway to reach the mountains," his finger traced Eundunja's supposed movements in graceful arcs on the laminated foldout. He made a circle with his finger between Mt. Ko and Mt. Chel and continued, "Best guess is he's hiding in a cave or under an overhang, getting ready for nightfall."

The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon directly facing them.

Yang didn't hesitate, "Then let's cross quickly. We need to smoke him out before dark."

Han looked up and down the highway, then nodded to his partner, "It's clear."

Yang concurred, "All right. Move."

Ren took Siman in his arms and scurried across the two lane thoroughfare.

What had begun as a hot day by the shore was quickly turning cool as they climbed higher and the sun dipped lower. As they moved into the shadow of the mountain slopes, Ren's eyes began to adjust to the shade. Even the juniper bushes and wild rose shrubs, interlaced with morning glories and other climbing flowers, began to thin out as the group tried to find a path through the jutting rocks toward Eundunja's likely hiding place.

The Rang-Ino had been wise to write off this rocky, infertile land. Why climb precarious slopes, through nettles and poison berries, for a tough, stringy haunch of mountain goat when there were plenty of pigs and mushrooms in the forest, and plenty of seaweed and shellfish in the bay and along the Strand? If the legends were true, danger also lurked in these hills.

Ren turned to Siman and spoke out of the side of his mouth, "Stay close to me."

The mankey did not reply, but as he sniffed, he began to hesitate. He slowed down.

Yang noticed the little pokémon's reticence. "What does he smell?" asked their captor.

"Something big nearby," Ren answered with a quaver. There was no need to feign fear.
The terrain flattened out, and they arrived at what looked like the aftermath of an old rockslide, with boulders strewn all over. There was plenty of cover.

Yang unholstered his pistol, flicked off the safety, and chambered the first round. In his left hand, he held the pokéball containing his charmeleon. He nodded to Han, who held his submachine gun in front of him. They went ahead of the boy and his pokémon, Yang going right, and Han going left. They looked behind boulders and examined crevices gun-first, like police on TV bursting into rooms looking for bad guys.

Han lost his footing and nearly toppled over as a rock shifted under his weight. He scrambled to catch himself, putting his other foot down hard.

Suddenly, the ground seemed to quake. Yang looked up – he felt it too. Another tremor rumbled around them. Yang's head jerked around, looking for cover.

"Rockslide!" he squealed. But it was no rockslide.

Ren gaped as a giant column of jet-black stone rose up from beneath the boulders. It was an enormous onix, a colossal rock snake – a pokémon known to live hundreds of years, and famed for attacking anything that crossed it.

Yang voice was filled with panic, "HAN! SHOOT IT!"

The goateed gunman spat rounds at the terror in front of him as he backed away. The onix roared, its rage echoing off the slopes.

"Charmeleon, go!"

"Moltres, go!"

The two pokémon were not trained for competition; they fought dirty, double-teaming the onix and nimbly maneuvering around it. The ancient rock snake, however, seemed to barely feel their attacks, and focused only on vengeance. It had none of the sportsmanship of a sparring pokémon, and none of the fear of the ones who skulked in the tall grass. It just attacked.

The onix dove at Yang's charmeleon even as it sent a huge fire blast toward its enormous head. The fire lizard went sprawling, dodging by a split second. The moltres tried to distract the enormous foe by flying around its head in circles, strafing and singeing as it flew. The onix used rockslide, bringing down a hail of stone from above.

Han and Yang dove for cover, with the former spitting bursts of ammunition from behind a cliff face, and the latter ducking behind a boulder.

Ren didn't wait to see what happened next. He grabbed Siman and ran back toward the ledge. As he began to climb down, he felt a whoosh of air past his ear as a hard crack echoed off the rocks. He looked up to Yang, still behind the boulder, with his gun pointed at him.

"Don't you fucking move kid!" he tried to growl, but his voice had grown thin, and it came out more like a screech, "The next one goes through your mankey's eye." There was blood dripping down his forehead.

Ren threw his charge over the edge, "Go, Siman!"

He jumped nimbly down the rocks as the gun went off again. Ren felt a burning and searing pain in his thigh as he jumped too. "Ah!" he shouted. His knee stung as he took the skin off it on the gritty stone. His adrenaline forced him to pick himself up and Siman followed him as he ran downhill at a breakneck pace.

He heard the onix roar again, with pain and indignity. The semi-auto pistol fire had stopped. The intervals in the rapid-fire bursts from the submachine gun grew farther between, and then stopped. Neither the little pokémon nor his trainer stopped to wonder what had happened.

The pain in Ren's thigh flared up. He stopped for a moment, and looked back at the ledge where they had left the battle. He saw the moltres struggling to stay in the air. It faltered, and fell limply toward the ground, its flames extinguished. He didn't look back again.

The two friends ran until they reached the road, and ducked behind some bushes to hide. Ren winced as Siman examined his right thigh, two inches below his hip. The bullet had taken out a chunk of flesh on its way through.

Ren gasped, and collected himself, "It's fine, it's fine. It's a graze."

But it was bleeding freely and steadily. Siman pulled a clean handkerchief and some gauze from the first aid kit and tied it over the wound.

"It's just a flesh wound, I'll be fine," he said to no one in particular.

Ren got to his feet slowly, and they ran and hopped as quickly as they could toward the road. Ren was limping, but they had to keep moving. They moved down the side of the highway in short bursts, like soldiers pinned down under fire, finding cover under a rock or behind a bush, and then listening and watching for the men who might be following them before they continued. Ren could only pray that Han and Yang were buried under rock and rubble. They never heard or saw anybody.

When Ren finally stopped for a rest, they had reached Mt. Sula. The very last light of day was shining over Rang Bay, and the water was a deep red. Only a few boats lingered away from the marina, solitary dots at that distance.

It occurred to him that his father would be arriving home any minute. If he went into his drawer for money to play cards with, he would notice right away that he was missing 120p. In spite of all he had seen that day, Ren still felt a kick of adrenaline when he pictured his father's anger.

Siman tugged at his trainer's shirt. He tried to stand up, but he staggered, seeing stars. He noticed that the right leg of his cargo shorts was wet with blood. He sat down hard on a rock, hunched over as he waited for his head to clear.

Siman positioned himself in his trainer's downward gaze, and made a noise to get his attention. Then he signed, "Quick, let's keep going. We need to get home. Need a doctor."

Ren gritted his teeth and planted his feet, and launched himself upright by force of will. He emptied his canteen into his mouth, nearly choking. "We need to find the scent," he rasped once he caught his breath, "We're close. He must have crossed near here."

Siman just looked at him in disbelief.

"Did you hear me?" the boy shouted, "Start sniffing! It's almost dark."

Siman's disbelief turned into fear. He argued, "I can't… I can't smell him…"

"Then start looking around!" Ren commanded shrilly.

His mankey paused, unsure, then set his feet defiantly, "It's too dangerous. I won't," he signed plainly.

Ren's eyes went dark, "You will," he warned.

Siman was unmoved by commands. He protested, "How many times can we escape getting hurt out here?"

Ren kicked a juniper bush. "HOW MANY TIMES CAN WE ESCAPE GETTING HURT IN THAT HOUSE?" he screamed. He grabbed Siman by the arm and shook him. "I make the plans here. I decide what's best for us," he raged. He threw the little pokémon down and smacked him on the back of his head, looming overhead. "Now find the scent!" he barked down at him, "Or you'll get another one."

Siman whimpered. It was a choked sound, somewhere between a moan and a squeak. He cowered and cried. Ren realized it was the same sound he had been making under the cedar tree where he had found him.

Siman pulled himself his feet, and ran off into the bush.

Ren's eyes grew hot and his stomach churned. He panicked as he remembered where he had first heard the words that had just come out of his mouth.

He closed his eyes and he could see her. She was standing in the doorway to his room.

"NO! You're not coming in here!" Ren's mother cried. Her voice broke and her arms shook as she spoke and signed at the same time.

"He's my son. And I'm going to discipline him!" Ren's father seethed, "I'm the man of this house! I make the law under this roof!"

The small scared boy in the memory was as far under his bed as he could go, peering up. His father slapped his mother across her face and pushed her to the ground. "Keep that boy in line, or you'll get another one," he promised. A moment later, the front door opened and slammed shut.

Little Ren crawled silently to his mother, sagged down onto her knees in his doorway, keeping her tears silent out of habit, even when her husband was gone.

Ren lifted his mother's chin and signed, "Don't cry. It's over. It's okay."

As he came spinning out of the memory, he found himself barrelling through the scrub of Mt. Sula, shouting frantically, "SIMAN! SIMAN! Come back! PLEASE!" He stopped every so often to listen for him, but he heard only crickets. His lungs burned, but he called out once more, "I'm sorry!" He forgot all about his wounds and bruises, climbing over rocks and pushing through copses of short trees looking for any signs of his friend.

The sky was completely dark, and only a few thin wisps of clouds floated across the bright full moon. The stars twinkled brightly all the way out to the horizon. When he stumbled through clearings, Ren could look to his left and see a few lights around Rang Bay glittering. The lookout piers were lined with lanterns, and the marina's buoys blurred together at that distance. The taverns in the downtown shone solitary lights that would eventually go out one by one. Ahead, below the southern slopes of the mountain there were only farmhouses, whose lights went off almost as soon as dark hit. Not a single car disturbed the gravel road bordered by wire fences with cattle gates.

Ren stopped again to listen. A sound came faintly through the trees ahead of him. He froze and strained as hard he could to hear more. He moved slowly and softly toward it. There was a stand of long-needled pines protruding from an east-facing slope. He tried to force his way through the close-growing trees, but tripped in the dark and took a spill into a rose shrub, stinging his exposed arms and legs on the thorns. He extracted himself the bush and listened again. He was sure he could hear a voice. It was closer now, but still growing quieter and fainter.

He reached his arms out to protect his face and pushed through the pine branches as hard as he could. He arrived on the other side in a clearing, facing a six-metre cliff.

"Help…" the voice called out hollowly.

The moon shone on the clearing, and Ren could see, right before the cliff cast its shadow, there was someone lying on the ground. The person's clothes were colourless in the dark. Ren rushed over, and to his dread, he recognized a face.

"Hiro!" Ren cried.

The boy's breaths were weak, shallow gasps. His chest was soaked, and the sharp rock jutting out of the ground next to him was dark and shiny with his blood. His shirt was ripped, and Ren could see a deep puncture wound in his ribs. "Ren," he seemed half-asleep, "We came…back… We looked for you."

Ren sobbed, barely managing to say, "Why?" None of it made sense.

Hiro closed his eyes, but kept talking, in a sort of trance, "It…it got Lance," he said, without emotion, "I fell."

Ren opened his bag, dumped out his first aid kit frantically looking for an answer – something that would fix everything. He tried to speak with confidence, as he had earlier when he'd lied to the men with guns, but his courage failed him. His voice broke, "I'm going to help you, Hiro," he promised, "I'm going to get you out of here."

"I screwed up, Ren," he whispered.

He trailed off, eyes going wide. His body panicked one last time and gasped for breath. Then he coughed, and went quiet.

Ren was frozen, a scream ran through his body, but he just sobbed and held onto his friend – the boy who bugged him like a little brother.

All Ren could think was Siman Siman Siman I need you please come here.

Then Ren's head snapped up. He heard a low growl that shook the ground like a tremor. In silhouette on the cliff, dark against the moonlight coming from overhead, he saw the sloped shoulders and blunt head of the beast, its enormous jaws open like a bear trap. It let out a roar louder than a freighter entering Rang Bay early in the morning. And Ren closed his eyes.