Hello there, readers. I thank you for at least taking some time out of your day to read what I have written for you. I know you may or may not enjoy this, and I completely understand that, but please, if you would be kind enough to leave constructive criticism, it would be highly appreciated. This is only going to be here once, so don'y worry about having to read it again. Also, this is my first fanfic, so please with me luck. I'll try to update it at least once every other week.
Yes, I know this chapter is on the shorter side, but chances are the ones after this are going to be larger in size.
Also, if you end up confused about this, worry not. Things will be explained more thoroughly in the upcoming chapters.
The night was at its latest, the full moon high in the sky with its light covering the ground like a blanket without the warmth. The sky was clear, except for the occasional puff of clouds that gently floated over the forest, but they would never end up covering the beauty which is the moon. In fact, it seemed to merely wave off the presence of the clouds like they were nothing, seemingly mocking them as they passed by.
Down on the ground, a Ninetales traveled alone, nervously glancing about for anything else that may have been wandering around. They seemed to have a slight limp to their walk, making itself apparent every time they stepped down on their front right paw. Though, from a first glance, they didn't seem to have any sort of injuries. At least, not on their paw.
Around their whole body laid spots of blood, some of it their own, some of it someone else's. It was all dry at this point, but there still looked to be a lot of it.
At the moment, all the Ninetales really wanted to do was simply give up. They wanted to lie on the ground and die in defeat, but they knew they couldn't. Staying alive wasn't just a fight for their own life, no, it was for others who needed it far more than he did.
Around the Pokémon's neck was a small satchel of the sorts, which bounced about as it hit the legs of the carrier. From the way it bounced, it looked very light, and from the outside, there didn't seem to be anything within the satchel at all, at least nothing that affected the shape of it.
Either way, they didn't seem to be taking any chances with it, and would be defending it, or itself - it was difficult to tell. Maybe it was both - with its life.
But why? Of what importance what this Ninetales and the satchel they carried? They were a simple duo of Pokémon and object; nothing that would be an uncommon occurrence out in the forest.
It was not them that were important. Rather, it was who they were going to see, and what was going to be revealed that was important.
But, something from about twenty feet away would take the Ninetales' mind off the matter of delivering what he was about to deliver. A deep growl, coming from less than twenty meters to their right, which didn't sound particularly friendly. Using what little energy he had left in his system, he broke into a sprint, hoping to lose their pursuiter before the little energy he had left was gone.
"Just a little closer…" The Weavile muttered from her post in the trees, looking down upon a Ninetales who traveled along the ground. Being a dark type, it was fairly easy to seeing in the darkness that was night, which made doing things like this easy.
Anywho, she wasn't looking to do anything to the injured looking Fox Pokémon unless she really had to. It was the item around their neck that peaked her interest the most. She thought it would be easy: The Ninetales looked to be in a terrible shape, making the possibility of them fighting back little to none. If they did decide to fight back, it probably wouldn't be much of a problem for her anyways, even with the type disadvantage. Win-win situation.
She smiled to herself, mumbling as the Ninetales slow got into her range of jumping. "Three...two...o-" But, as she was about to utter the final number, the Pokémon below her broke into a frantic sprint. Had they somehow noticed her sitting up in the branches of the tree, even with the extreme darkness of the night? Had they simply heard her counting down to herself because she was too confident? She tried to go through it logically. The former seemed out of the question, due to the fact that they simply hadn't looked up, but the latter seemed... a bit more reasonable. She had also noticed their ears perking right before they ran, which would make her theory even more plausible.
The more she had thought about, the more she thought that it was her fault for losing what she was going for.
A loud roar which echoed through the forest would pull her from her thoughts however. Looking down again, she noticed a big draconian creature, which could be compared to that of a living land shark. Perhaps that was the thing that set the Ninetales off, not her. The Garchomp was glaring in the direction the Ninetales had run off in, too, further making her new assumption more reasonable.
She huffed silently to herself. So this had been the reason the Ninetales ran? Obviously, something needed to be done about that; ruining a perfectly good target was not something that you did without getting consequences. At least not with her.
The Gachomp began to go in the general direction that the fox ran in, which the Weavile saw as a perfectly opportunity to strike her opponent for an easy win. At least, so she could get to the Ninetales instead. Quietly climbing down from the tree she was on, she caught up to the Garchomp with surprising speed, and quickly slowed them down with a mist of icy breath they exhaled from their mouth, which effectively slowed them down significantly.
They seemed a bit confused on why their legs weren't responding the way they should of. Glancing around, they noticed that a single, and rather small, slender figure stood behind them, though it was hard to make out what they were. The Garchomp smirked to themselves, turning around to face them. Of course this was going to be easy, wasn't it? Just some stupid idiot looking to pick a fight with someone way out of their league.
"Your dumb ass just made a big mistake." A gruff, deep voice said from the Garchomp, getting himself into a battle stance.
Before he even saw anything coming, there was a sharp, sudden pain coming from his left leg. Looking down upon it, it appeared to be stabbed in three places, all of them relatively close to one another, and there was a good amount of blood pouring from the wounds. Of course he was dealing with something that had blades of some sort. Why wouldn't he?
Looking around again, he noticed whatever had just assaulted him was gone, and he let out a defeated sigh. "Fucker..." He muttered into the darkness, knowing there was probably no one around to hear it. Slowly, he brought himself to the ground, the familiar feeling of unconsciousness washing over him as he shut his eyes.
Further along. Much, further along, the Ninetales' energy would finally run out as it suddenly collapsed onto the ground, letting out a light grunt as it did so. It weakly looked behind itself, praying to Arceus that they wouldn't see, well, anyone, and were left pleasantly surprised when no one was there.
For a few moments, they just sat, contemplating what they wanted to do next. While its priority was to move on, it noticed that its legs weren't responding at all, probably due to the fact that they had been worked far harder than they should've been. It let out an anxious sigh, a small frown forming across their face.
"This sucks." The male said, glancing around himself slowly to be sure that there was absolutely no one around. "I guess I should relax or something." He thought aloud. "At least, until I can walk again." Wait, that probably wasn't a very smart thing to say aloud. He shook his head slowly, hoping that no one had heard him say that.
He looked down between his legs, fairly pleased to see that the satchel was still under his possession, though it had slipped of of his neck sometime during the fall. That didn't matter much, seeing as he could put it back on... once his legs decided to work again.
He sighed softly, reaching his head down to the flap that kept the contents of satchel in the satchel. With a swift upwards tug, he would remove the magnetic bond holding the flap in place, revealing what had been inside. There would be papers, lots of them, filled to the brim with words which were hand written.
Within these words were messages that no one should've even had the displeasure of viewing, but one way or another it had ended up in the not-so-secure paws of the Ninetales. He was being entrusted to deliver them to someone who had requested them. Apparently it was evidence of some sort, which he hoped was true. That hell hole and all who inhabited it, except for one exception, deserved to die.
But, what were these messages of? And, why were they of such importance? What power did words on paper hold that could've changed the course of many people's lives?