It was always the darkest hour of night that seemed safest to Owlmon. When the hunters retreated and the preys died. It was right after the weak fell, leaving behind a symbol of their short existence. Only then was it safe for the Digimon to take into the air.
His brown wings gave no sound as he beat them. He was scanning the ground with his eyes, safely sheltered behind a pair of mechanical goggles. Most of his body was mechanical, a result of evolving using a Digimental. His talons were made out of metal, and his tail was composed of planks of it.
The field Owlmon had been flying over was empty of the Digimon that previously roamed it, having either retreated for the night, or died in the battle that ensued. Their data was nowhere to be seen, likely still roaming the Digital World. But one particular set of data had formed itself.
It had been in one of the most obscure of places. The DigiTama was in one of the many craters scattered along the field, and a large tree had fallen on it. If Owlmon had been flying any higher, he might not have noticed it.
Silent as always, he swooped down and settled on the trunk; he was small enough to creep into the crater, get the DigiTama, and get out, but he was bound to make some noises. The rocks around the dent seemed susceptible to fall, and the borders were so fragile that they were crumpling away whenever the calm wind stirred them. A single flap of his wings, no matter how silent, will send it all crashing down.
He hopped down from the trunk, careful not to rustle the leaves or make any sound. Owlmon quickly scanned the area with his goggled eyes; there were some Digimon sleeping, and they were bound to come attack him if he was to make any noise. Suddenly, the DigiTama didn't seem to be worth it; if he flew away now, he could save his own life.
He looked around once more; a total of three Digimon would reach him within seconds, and even if he managed to fly away, one of them was capable of long-ranged attacks, but what he was most worried about was the Shutumon that had been nested in the thickets of a tree. It was more than a capable flyer, and considering its power to command the wind, Owlmon was sure it was to be feared more than anything else he could spot, even if it was the farthest of the Digimon he could see.
He directed his attention back to the DigiTama; it was camouflaged perfectly into the night, likely why it went unnoticed. It was a very dark purple that blended into its surroundings, with only a small white blotch telling it apart. It pained him to come to that decision, but saving it was going to be suicide; he slowly hopped away, waiting for any variable to change his mind, but in those desperate moments, nothing had happened.
He took a few more steps back, away from the crater, and rose into the air. Maybe it will still be there tomorrow, and maybe then it will easier to swoop in and fly off with it.
'I'm just terrible,' Owlmon whispered to himself, his eyes still on the DigiTama as he went higher. 'Maybe tomorrow…'
It was then that a faint noise echoed from the crater, and a crack appeared along the DigiTama, slowly making its way to the end as the noise intensified. It was very quiet, but amidst the silence of the night, it was a shrill scream. Owlmon paused in the air, suddenly finding the variable he had been looking for, even if it was going to make his job a lot harder.
When a Tuskmon had stirred, the realisation had finally hit Owlmon; the noise could no longer be avoided. He flapped his wings once more, and descended into the hole. The Digimon needed to build up its strength by breaking out of the egg, but the noise was going to attract all the prey that had been sleeping around it; that step was going to have to be sacrificed.
Owlmon had broken his talons through the shell, the dirt and the rocks behind him had begun to crumple, and the Shutumon's tree had started rustling. The baby was panicking, exploding into tears as Owlmon wrapped it in his grip and flew off with it, his back brushing the leaves of the fallen trunk.
A shriek pierced through the night, and several Digimon roared in response, but Owlmon had gotten high enough to avoid all those that had been sleeping on the land. The baby was crying and squirming around, desperately trying to get away. The wind intensified, and seemed to focus on Owlmon's wing as another shriek penetrated his ears.
He chanced one glance back, only to confirm his worst fears; Shutumon was right behind them. Two golden wings sprouted from her back, and two blue wings grew out of her hair. She was a humanoid-looking Digimon, and only parts of her body were mechanical. A mask obstructed most of her face, but just by looking at her wide eyes, Owlmon knew that she had targeted him as a prey.
She was substantially stronger than Owlmon, and he knew that fighting wasn't an option. Unlike his beats, Shutumon's wings were very loud and audible, and it was one of the advantages he had against her.
She gave another shriek, and the wind shot through Owlmon's wing like a bullet. He screamed out in pain, fell several metres, and struggled to get back into an organised flying pattern. The Digimon he had been carrying was still crying, although the sounds were growing fainter as the newborn was exhausting all of his strength.
Shutumon gave another shriek, and Owlmon tried to change his course, but the wind surrounding him didn't allow it, and the razor currents slashed his second wing. He stumbled again, and had almost dropped the noiseless Digimon; it became very quiet, and silence was once again on Owlmon's side.
He could do nothing but utilise the stealth Shutumon lacked; he had to lose her. Throwing another glance back, he realised how much damage his wings had sustained, as he was flying slower, and she was getting closer to him, her arm extended to grab onto her meal. He knew that he had no other choice but to fly back; he couldn't change his direction, as Shutumon's mastery of the wind prevented him from flying in anything but a straight line.
He folded his wings together and drew his talons into his body; his tail shot up and the metal planks drew themselves apart. He saw nothing, but felt the sharp fingers of the Shutumon clinging onto his tail as he passed her, slowly ripping it apart as he fell down and carried the enemy with him.
Dragging her, and the resistance she put up, was causing Owlmon's tail to be shredded apart; even if was just a mechanical part of him, it was still painful, and it took all his willpower not to clench his talons in pain and crush the Digimon. She reached her second arm, trying to grab the newborn, which was shaking in fear, but managed to spit tiny iron beads at the Shutumon.
It was only for a moment, but she flinched as the beads hit her eyes, and her fingers ripped themselves free from Owlmon's tail. He quickly straightened himself and flew into the forest that was below him; he did not know when the chase led him out of the battlefield, and into a forest, but he was grateful for it. His wings had been bleeding, and his entire body pained him more than anything else he has experienced. A tree's roots were slightly sprouting from the ground, and a safe hollow showed itself beneath it. He ducked into it, dropping the Digimon, and crashing into the opposite wall.
A strong wind blew through the entire forest, and the Shutumon's cries echoed through it, lamenting the loss of a prey. Owlmon's vision was hazy, and his breaths were infrequent. He tried to catch his footings, but all he could was flail around whenever he moved, as any movement was causing his tail to ache him. He was as pathetic as one of those "human birds" he had seen when he visited the human world.
He gave his body a chance to calm down as the wind died away; Shutumon must've made her way back to the battleground, deeming the search for the Owlmon an unnecessary burden for a small prize. He slowly, but with much wincing, turned around to face the newborn.
He was whimpering, and tears were still pouring down his face. The Digimon had a purple fur that Owlmon recognised as Mithril Hair; his eyes were yellow, and a white blotch, not unlike the one that had been on the DigiTama, speared across his mouth.
'Those are rare,' whispered Owlmon, and his voice made the Digimon flinch. 'I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Owlmon, and for the record, you are a Dodomon.'
The newborn kept on whimpering, and even though the opening was right next to it, he stayed his ground.
'Of course,' said Owlmon. 'You don't even know how to take your first steps; go on then, just jump towards me. Hop!'
Dodomon still didn't move, nor show any signs of movement. He didn't even break out of his egg, and that process required the newborn to repeatedly smash against the inner shell to break free, simultaneously taking his first hop; Dodomon was missing that, and Owlmon had to show him the way.
But his tail, being as damaged as it was, didn't allow it; even though he was in a pathetic heap on the ground, he still shivered, and the metal planks were stinging him with every whiff of cold air that made its way into the tree trunk. He extended his wing to the Dodomon, making it jump up infrequently; it was still a chore to do so, but it was better than the alternative.
Dodomon's focus was on the wing; it was damaged and bleeding, but it was the hops that drew his attention. He calmed down, and Owlmon gave a sigh of relief. He extended his second, much more damaged wing. The left one, having suffered a slash of razor wind, was missing a lot of the feathers that previously coated it, and like the right wing, it was bleeding.
He made it hop along the first wing, before slowly retreating them. Dodomon tried to follow the mysterious, but harmless formations, only to stumble onto his face, and roll around the ground to try and straighten himself; he was a mere ball of fur, and a small one.
Owlmon drew the wings farther away, and that time, the Dodomon had managed to catch air before stumbling and falling again. With each draw, the Dodomon hopped better, and by the end, he wasn't inclining his nose forward and smashing into the ground, nor aimlessly jumping and rolling backwards.
'There you go,' said Owlmon; it was an effort to even talk. 'Now you can go anywhere you want. You're as perfect as a newborn can be.'
Even though he didn't understand a word that Owlmon had said, Dodomon had started to trust the Digimon; the wing exercise had convinced him that his significantly larger, bloody, torn companion was of no harm to him. He snuggled into Owlmon's chest, one of the few places of his body that wasn't mechanical, and took comfort amongst the warm feathers, falling asleep rapidly.
§
Owlmon did not wake up until the following night, and the Dodomon was still asleep; he had used all his energy the night before. The pain had mostly waned away, and Owlmon's shredded tail was as numb as it had always been, but having neglected to even clean his wounds, Owlmon was sure they caught an infection during his sleep.
He could go for a few days without any food, even in his injured state, but Dodomon was going to need to eat something, and the two needed a shower, as Dodomon had soiled Owlmon's feathers. There had to be a body of water somewhere around the forest, as well as some simple mushrooms that he could grind for the baby.
He picked up the sleeping Digimon, and held him close as he ducked out of the tree trunk. The forest was quiet, and showed no sign of whatever rage Shutumon unleashed upon it. With his impeccable sight, he managed to track down a running river as Dodomon woke up.
Owlmon settled into the water with Dodomon, cleaning the baby before he started cleaning himself. He started thinking about Mireille; he had promised the human that he would be back eventually, but knowing her, she was bound to worry.
Both of Mireille's parents were Tamers, and Owlmon had met and worked with them, in their youth. They retired from that business after getting married, choosing jobs that didn't put their lives at risk. Digimon weren't a secret to Mireille, and she chose to pursue that life. Even though Owlmon wasn't her partner, the two still cared about each other.
After the pair had gotten out of the river, Owlmon crushed some edible mushrooms for Dodomon, and fed the baby as the darkest hour crept once more. Dodomon started whimpering and shaking, fearing history to repeat itself, but Owlmon was sure the trip back was going to be much easier.
'It will be okay,' said Owlmon. 'We're going to fly back to Mireille, and she's going to take care of you.'
Owlmon's plan was simple. Even though he mostly regarded the humans' actions as being too much of an unneeded interference in the Digital World, he couldn't deny that they were useful, and were more than willing to help. He would give the Dodomon to Mireille to take back home, and like other newborns that he had rescued from the battlefield, they would take care of him until he can go back to the wild, while Owlmon recuperates from his injuries.
He had cleaned his wings of the blood that had covered them, and plucked away some of the feathers that were torn and ripped. He wrapped a single talon around Dodomon, and took into the air; he wasn't as silent as he could've been, but his wings, no matter how injured, only made the slightest of noises. As he flew, a faint sting started in his tail, but he managed to persevere on.
§
An entire day had passed since Owlmon took off into the battleground, and the fights had started and ended again. Mireille was in a cave that overlooked the field, where Owlmon had left her with her partner, a Liollmon.
He greatly resembled a lion cub. His fur was golden and thin, and a small tuft of burning red hair was perched on his head. His eyes were striking blue, muscular arms led to his clawed paws, and a collar was wrapped around his neck, from which a circular, green emerald hung.
He was lying on his stomach, and had his eyes focused on Mireille. Even though she was trying not to show it, he knew that his partner was worried about Owlmon. She was focused on the sky, hoping to see any sign of the bird. Her arms held her knees close to her chest as the wind ruffled her hair.
She was always pale, and her eyes were a dark green. Light brown hair topped her head, and it was cut very short. Mireille was too skinny for her own good; her ranger clothes were very loose, and almost everyone who knew her had noted that she looked sick.
'He'll come back,' said Liollmon, even though he knew that his words wouldn't comfort Mireille. 'He always comes back.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' said Mireille. 'Of course he always comes back. I'm worried that he won't, this time.'
'At least he's safe,' said Liollmon. 'He knows the Digital World more than we do; we both grew up outside it.'
'Maybe that large thing got him; the one we saw fly.'
'It came back empty-handed.'
'Did it though?' said Mireille. 'Maybe what we saw isn't what really happened. Maybe we chose what we saw. I mean, it was too far away for us to tell if it had anything.'
'Either way, there's nothing we can do,' said Liollmon. 'If he's alive, then he'll come back; if he's dead, then that's it. We might as well honour his last wish of not going after him.'
'Maybe you should evolve into Liamon and seek him out.'
'Again: his last wish was for us not to search for him if he doesn't come back, and he told you not to worry.'
'Don't be so blunt,' said Mireille. 'You're only making it worse.'
'Right, and hiding from the truth will bring his back,' said Liollmon. 'You wouldn't worry if the same thoughts weren't going through your mind.'
Mireille gave a sigh, the same one that signified the end to a conversation. Liollmon moved closer to his partner, and rested by her side; she was tough to deal with whenever she was in a state of worry, but she always came around after everything had settled down. It wasn't their first disagreement, and he knew that it wouldn't be their last.
Clouds drifted over the large moon that was poised in the darkening sky as the pair stared for any sign of Owlmon. Like his partner, Liollmon was worried about the Digimon, as it was only a little more than two years ago that Owlmon had rescued a DigiTama from the battlefield, an egg that eventually hatched into a Popomon.
Even though Owlmon hadn't taken care of the baby, he took it upon himself to find a suitable home for him, and Mireille, then a 15-year-old starting her career as a tamer, was kind enough to take him in. With her care, Popomon became a Liollmon, and was even able to achieve an Adult level, a Liamon.
Owlmon had rescued plenty of eggs and newborns, and Liollmon convinced himself that he wasn't special to Owlmon, but the fatherly Digimon was special to Liollmon, and as much as he tried to ease his feelings, the truth was that he was just better at hiding them than Mireille.
'I still think we should search for him,' said Mireille. 'You're pretty fast as Liamon.'
'I think you're overestimating me,' said Liollmon. 'Even if I am fast enough, I'm not quiet enough; going through that field would be suicide, especially with you on my back. These savages won't even let night get in their way. Our best option is to wait.'
It was then that a small figure became clear in the sky. Hope resurged in Mireille's eyes, and she bolted herself into a stand. It was small enough to be Owlmon, but the erratic behaviour of flying made the pair doubt. His eyesight wasn't as sharp as Owlmon, but Liollmon's eyes were still better than Mireille, and the closer the figure got, the more details Liollmon could make out.
'It is Owlmon!'
Mireille would've lit up with happiness, but Owlmon didn't seem able to maintain an altitude. He almost fell several times, and as he got closer, it became clear to her that his wings were damaged. She reached out to grab him, and the small gesture must've encouraged Owlmon, as he flew towards her, and fell into her arms, a Digimon rolling away from his talons as he did so. He was panting, and Mireille noted that, like his wings, his tail was severely damaged.
'Oh, Owlmon,' said Mireille, on the verge of tears. 'I should've come after you.'
'I told you not to,' said Owlmon between pants. 'And I'm glad you didn't.'
As Mireille caressed Owlmon's broken body, Liollmon approached whatever it was that fell from their companion. It was a purple Digimon with very short stumps for legs. He had an equally short tail, and pointy ears. His fur was standing up, making him resemble a small ball with spikes rather than a Digimon.
'What is this?' Liollmon said, his face showing clear signs of disgust.
'Oh, that,' said Owlmon. 'I plucked it from the battlefield when it was a Dodomon, then I fed it, and flew off with it, then it evolved in the air into this Dorimon. It wasn't a pleasant experience; having something in your grip evolve.'
'But your wings,' started Mireille. 'And your tail; you have to come back with us, and get the proper treatment. You will be bandaged and taken care of, and you'll get the medical attention you need.'
'And this thing,' said Liollmon. 'Are we taking this thing with us?'
'His name is Dorimon,' said Owlmon. 'And show some compassion towards him; you two are brothers now.'
'Like that word means anything,' said Liollmon. 'The only difference between it and most of my siblings is that I know what it looks like.'
'He, Liollmon,' said Owlmon. 'He, not it. And Max, would you mind pressing those buttons less frantically?'
'Sorry, sorry,' said Mireille. 'I'll be done soon.'
Next to the kneeling Mireille was a white, circular object. It had a single screen that she was tapping at, typing out a message with the touch-screen keyboard. She was sending a request for a portal to be opened, one that will take them to the human world. Owlmon had been there before, but he never liked it; time passed quicker there, and one hour in the human world was a day in the digital world.
As much as he could, he always avoided going there, but the always-fretting Mireille wasn't going to let him get away this time. Even if he tried, he doubted he could fly far before she snatched him again, if he could get even get away with his ever-dwindling strength.
Dorimon was a very aggressive Digimon; he was constantly tackling Liollmon, and biting at his legs. If Owlmon hadn't been there, sure to scold him if he hurt the baby in any way, he would've swatted it away. Dorimon started what sounded like barking; even as Liollmon walked away, the smaller Digimon followed him and kept on yapping at him.
Mireille was tapping at her Digivice, and resting on her shoulder, Owlmon was breathing lightly, almost asleep. Liollmon could only assume that his eyes were closed, and he hoped them to be as the barking started getting on his nerves. He slashed his paw at the youngster, careful not to cause any permanent damage, but inflicting as much pain as possible. Dorimon flinched at the slash, then a swat sent him rolling to the other wall of the cave; before the baby had even the chance to cry, Liollmon dashed to Mireille's side, and settled on the ground.
A grin spread itself across him face, and he tried to get into the most comfortable position he could fake, adamant that he was inconspicuous. However, Dorimon didn't break into tears, and charged at Liollmon instead. The distance gave him some speed, and as he got closer he started spitting beads of iron.
'Liollmon,' said Owlmon. 'What did you do?'
'What does it matter what I did! He's the one attacking me!'
'Dorimon, stop it,' said Owlmon. 'And apologise to him, Liollmon.'
'He's not stopping!' Liollmon said as the iron beads were hitting him in the face, becoming increasingly annoying.
Mireille whipped around just as Dorimon got close to Liollmon, holding him in her hand despite his struggles.
'Fighting? Right now? Owlmon can't look after the pair of you; show some respect!'
'He was the one attacking me,' said Liollmon. 'I wasn't attacking.'
'Right, like you did nothing,' said Owlmon. 'When's your portal opening, anyway?'
'Any time, now,' said Mireille, picking up the Dorimon and placing him on her lab, her fingers still around him in a death grip. 'I know the perfect partner for you.'
A small square flashed in the depths of the cave, drifting to one side before disappearing. The portal had begun to open; a distortion grew wider, and more squares made of light drifted around it. Some parts of the cave started becoming pixilated as numbers were flashing through it all.
Finally, almost in a burst, the distortion transformed to an egg-shaped portal, glowing white like the squares that lingered on the edges. Mireille pocketed her Digivice as Owlmon gave a scoff; he would've been content with having to rest in the digital world. With Dorimon clutched between her fingers, still struggling, and Owlmon on her shoulder, Mireille stepped into the portal.
It swallowed her with a muffled sound, and Liollmon dashed after her. The portal gave a ripple as he went through, and blinked out of existence. The group had stepped into a cold room; the walls were white, many computer screens were lined on desks, some being used, and others on standby, and the lights were bright and illuminated every corner.
A middle-aged man dressed in a very expensive-looking suit greeted them. He was taller than Mireille, his eyes were hazel, and his hair was very short. His necktie was red; the only thing he was wearing that wasn't either black or white.
'Welcome back to the real world.' He said, taking Mireille's hand in a shake.
'The human world,' said Owlmon. 'Not the real world; don't get cocky.'
'Owlmon, nice to see you again,' he said. 'As disdainful as ever, I see; not even your injuries could change that. Mireille informed us of the situation, and you'll be taken care of and returned to the digital world as soon as possible.'
'It won't be quick enough,' said Owlmon. 'By the way, Dorimon, that purple ball, will stay with her. You take care of him for now, alright, Max?'
'I will,' said Mireille. 'And captain, I hope you don't mind me submitting a report tomorrow; I've already stayed an extra hour in the digital world, and you know how my parents get when I'm late.'
'I unfortunately do,' said the captain. 'I'll wait for the report tomorrow. Just make sure to take care of this new Digimon, and don't let him expose himself. You might be able to catch up to Michael, actually, and it's always safer to travel in a group.'
Even though it was a normal occurrence to travel between the human world and the digital world, the sudden change in surroundings, noise, and temperature was more than jarring for the young Dorimon. He grew startled, even more so when Owlmon was taken away by some nurses, and he was left alone with Mireille and Liollmon.
One of them had slashed at him, and the other squeezed him and held him forcibly in her hands. He started shaking, but even his primitive mind registered that, even though his first memories of them were violent, so was his first encounter with Owlmon, and in the end, he proved to be as harmless as they come. Reluctantly, he surrendered himself to them, and went to sleep almost immediately.