Once upon a time, there was a starry sky, and below it, starry water. Near that water, there was a city that never slept, built into a circle. All Trainers, boats and even Pokemon were drawn to it, as though it were a supernova - it seemed to be the center of all things.
Near that bright city was a mountain, the surface of which glowed faintly in the starlight, and upon that hill was a forest so dense that even in day, most creatures could hardly see their hand in front of them. The tops of the trees reflected the starlight, sure, and from a distance it was a beautiful forest; but under its canopy, there was sheer darkness.
In the darkness lived Pokemon that embodied it. Only with the aid of a light, or perhaps the night-vision abilities the forest Pokemon possessed, would that wood come to life in the eye of a stranger. At first, a stranger would notice a Woobat or two, hanging quietly from the trees… then they would notice more and more Woobat, and sometimes Zubat, going about their small lives further up in the trees. The silence would be interrupted eventually by the sound of some territorial scuffle between the bat Pokemon species, and that would set a startled Deerling or Axew to flee, its footsteps hushed by the deep bed of pine needles.
If they dared, a stranger would venture deeper into the woods, encountering few Pokemon along the way aside from a few Bug-types. If they had wandered deep enough, they would have found… me. If they were a Pokemon, they would have heard me murmuring a farewell.
I was talking to my mate then. We were a young couple, not more than half a year evolved, and - though I didn't know, at the time - the pride of the Zoroark clan. The young and strong pack members were ultimately the ones that would earn the pack's respect, especially if they paid their dues by producing young. Aster and I were nearing our peak then; we were the newest and strongest blood. Unbeknownst to the pack, we were also getting close to having our first child.
Aster, a strong and towering specimen of a mate, was sitting up on the ground, grooming my face methodically. I was on my back, looking up at him.
"Heartkin, will I be alright without you?" Heartkin was an oft-used term of endearment among Zoro-kind.
"Yes, you will," I replied. "Will I come home to the nest you always promised to dig?"
"Of course - and I'm sure I will have the whole pack on my side. I think they'll be happy for us."
"I can only hope so. But even if they aren't, I still believe you'll be fine, sweetheart." I put one paw on Aster's face.
Aster put his paw on mine. "Heartkin, if the whole forest were gone, I would still be right here."
We were painfully romantic in those days. What can I say? We were young.
"You know, this… separation… was always a secret to me. It seems like the kind of thing only females know about."
"Well, you're right." I turned over and laid on my stomach, with my ribs pressed against the cool earth. "It's because the pack is born to travel. It's difficult enough for a pack to stay in one place for a few weeks, finding food and staying inconspicuous and all. But imagine doing so while also protecting someone dangerously protective, ravenously hungry, and in other ways a danger to the pack… the closer we come to that time, too, the less we are able to move - let alone hunt. Eggs are too much of a burden for the pack to bear, so we're all able to make do on our own until we're ready to travel again."
Aster nodded, and his face was full of empathy. "Is it that hard on you, dear?"
"Well, I've heard it's a test of strength." I shrugged away my fear for Aster's sake. "But it's nothing a Zoro can't handle." In truth, I was terrified, not only of birth but of being alone for so long.
"Good luck, dear." Aster paused. For a moment, I took in how beautiful my mate was. Hesitantly, he posed the question - "May I…?"
"Of course. This will be the last time for many weeks…"
We shared a Zoroark's kiss. Being so in love, I felt as though it lasted almost into eternity, and wanted it for longer.
"You have to go…"
"Yeah, I sure do…"
"Goodbye, Gladi."
"Goodbye, Aster."
We took a moment to look at each other, and smell each other, before I turned away into the darkness. I would be back soon, but 'soon' would be too long.
When Zoroark couples successfully began to produce a child, a clock would begin to tick for the female. In a timely fashion, she would have to distance herself from the pack - by miles, so as not to interfere with their ability to hunt - and find herself a safe place to lay an egg. Because packs do not travel so much as rotate between sites, spread out over miles of territory, most long-standing packs already have designated spots for such things. The Sunrise Pack, possibly the oldest in the region, had been using a few select sites for many years.
As I walked, and soon broke out into a run, I imagined what Aster must have been doing at that moment - he would have carefully climbed to the top of the leaders' boulder and begun to howl, causing every member of the pack, far and wide, to come to that central clearing. I could still hear him loud and clear from where I was - it was a happier and stronger howl than I had ever heard.
I imagined that Larkspur, the leader, would have been the first to spring into the moonlight and stand tall before Aster. He probably stared poor Aster down until the meeting began, as every mother, pup, brother and sister appeared from the forest to hear him. It was likely that Aster announced softly that there would be a new pack member between himself and me, and that he kept his voice soft as though afraid of his own boundless joy. It must have been at that point that I heard the whole pack howl and bark in excitement. Larkspur would have laughed. Everyone had seen it coming. Upon reflection, I realize we were the most lovey-dovey Zoroarks for miles.
Although not unused to running, the hours of tireless sprinting under the setting moon began to take its toll on me. Going up the mountain, the air was growing thinner, and the terrain grew harder. I distracted myself again with the thought of my pack. By then, Larkspur and Aster would have had a quiet talk, and Larkspur would have agreed to let Aster be the pack's new leader. At the announcement, each adult would have approached Aster and licked his muzzle, or shown other signs of submission and love. I smiled and hoped I would come back to a happy home.
Right then, though, I was content to step into the safety of an old nesting den - or so I had thought it was.