Hatch

By QuinKylar

Respected characters belong to their respected owners, respectfully.

one

A Dewott and the Cubone

It was raining.

Again.

The Cubone scowled and leaned against the boulders that made up the cave wall for a second, looking out and over the water-logged forest and plains at the base of her hill. Even the mountains in the distance had disappeared in the fog. Even the mountains… that meant her little hill had disappeared from them as well…

She snorted, "Great Sky. What have I done to impose your wrath this time?" The longer she spoke, the more mocking she became. "Is it because I'm blatantly disobeying my Marowak Elders? Clearly,the actions of one little Cubone warrant the entire sky to break out in tears."

She scoffed, shifting the Zigzagoon-furred satchel on her back and tightening the knot she made out of her Buizel-cloak's intertube before flicking up the hood. Shouldering her bone club, she walked out of the cave. "Rain, see if I care."

A blast of wind knocked her hood back, her free hand whipping up to the knot to catch the cloak before it blew away. Tightening it again, she growled.

"YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" She yelled up to the clouds, pointing her club to them. "Not today! I don't care! Leave! Me! alone!"

"That's an odd thing coming from a Cubone from around these parts," A Dewott commented from his seat on a boulder off to Cubone's left. "Rebuking the sky…. a rather blasphemous thing to do. If I understand your Tribe correctly."

Cubone let her arm fall and glared at the trespasser over her shoulder. He was meditating, feet together, eyes closed, hands and arms resting on a large rutsack of his own, made of a material that shed the rain like his blue fur.

She flicked up her hood again, "Are there any other observations you wish to make about me and my Tribe? No? Okay. Good. What are you doing here. Actually, no. Skip that. Go away." With that, she started down the hill, taking care not to slip on the stony dirt.

"I'm here to meet with your Tribe's Elders later this week.

Cubone slipped slightly, spinning to drop to all fours on the hill. She climbed back up. "Then why are you stalking my den and talking to me!?"

"Questions," Dewott said simply, finally opening his eyes and looking at her. "Questions best answered by you and not your leaders. If you do not wish to answer, that is fine. I understand. However, before I do talk to your Elders I would like to have a… perspective from the ground and not the clouds, if you will."

Cubone narrowed her eyes, "Liar. Why would you talk to a Hatchling? We barely know anything about the Tribe—we only lived within the Caverns for our first year before starting our seven-year Hatchling Trials. If you really know about us, then you know that we're given all that after the Trials end."

Dewott tilted his head, "I thought the Trials lasted for ten." He shook his head before Cubone could say anything. "I am here to deliver a warning to your Elders. …your Tribe is quite isolated, hidden away in this Reservation. There are events happening in the rest of Arcia that they need to be aware of…. If you ever hear of it, then you will know that they took my word seriously."

Cubone glared and turned to leave again.

"A Tribe's true intentions are revealed in the raising on their children," Dewott called, stopping Cubone. "And while the Hatchling Trials are… a bit extreme," Cubone scoffed loudly. "They do take good care of you. You are paired with another Hatchling and receive weekly lessons from a Marowak…." He faded off as Cubone laughed.

"There's seven of us Hatchlings this cycle," She scoffed. "I'm the odd one out. I got the Charred Den. The Marowak's—"

A crack of thunder drowned her out.

Cubone scowled and looked up as the rain fell harder. Her hood fell back on her shoulders again, half from the movement, half from another gust of wind. The water splashed on and through the eyeholes of her skull, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Fine," She muttered to the sky. "You win." She sighed and turned back to Dewott as he climbed back on top of his boulder. "What exactly do you want?"

Dewott glanced at her before looking back up to the sky, setting his rutsack off to the side. "With this weather…?" he started, taking a few steps away from the rocky outcropping to look at the rapidly encroaching fog wall and what little there was to see before it. "…well… glad to know Clara's right for once," He shook his head.

"Clara?" Cubone asked, walking up next to him. She looked up at him from one eye with her head slightly tilted-he was twice as tall as she was.

"A Castform in New Elmgrove—it's the closest town outside the Reservation," He said, looking out over the landscape. "Her reputation of accurate weather prediction is abysmal. Look at the trees, the wind's picking up far faster than it should. Most of the fog seems to be heavy rain…." He looked at her, "If she's actually right for once, this storm will last for the rest of the week, perhaps longer. Long, violent, mass flooding. Gather what supplies you can and bunker down in your den. As for me…" he sighed softly, clearly not enthused about his situation. "I have to make progress when I can. Farewell."

Cubone watched Dewott as he hastily jogged back to his rutsack, donned it, and started to head back down the hill, giving Cubone one final nod.

Cubone looked back up at the sky as another bolt of lightning arched through it. She looked back at Dewott as he flinched from the sound, squatting low out of sheer reaction. Cubone groaned and rolled her head.

"Wait!" She called, skidding down the hill after him. "You won't make it. The Caverns are a more than a day's walk in the best of weather. In any other rainstorm, you'd be fine. …you are favored by the Water-Spirits, yeah?"

Dewott was drowned out by another lightning strike, some distance behind Cubone's den. Again, he flinched towards the ground.

"Yeah, you won't make it over the plains—you'd get fried four times over. You might be able to make it to the old Bibarel Dam. It's a few hours' walk upstream. You'd be walking through the forest… I'm not sure if there's anything habitable left of it, but it's closer than the border."

Dewott looked down at her for a second, then back at the forest. "…I was warned of Shinx in the plains. This storm is going to be severe enough for them to seek shelter themselves and I'd rather not chance walking through a forest of Luxray." He sighed. "I was supposed to be escorted by a Marowak to the Elders. He was to act as a lightning rod and I to follow… but it seems the rain has shut down that parade."

"I doubt you would have received any fanfare anyway," Cubone shook her head. "Don't expect me to lead you, I wouldn't last long in this." She narrowed her eyes at him. "…are you telling the truth? Do they actually expect you at the Elders?"

Dewott looked down to her, "It wouldn't be wise for someone to converse with their Hatchlings otherwise. Yes, I swear by my scalchops." He took one of the shells off of his thigh and held it between his hands, bowing his head.

Cubone narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head. "Whatever. Come on." She headed back up the hill. "If the Elders want to meet you, if the Marowak didn't show up, if the heavens opened up and cried Sky-Spark down onto the plains…. It falls to me to make sure an expected guest of the Tribe isn't killed from a Spark-strike. Trial rules or not," She rolled her eyes and scoffed, stopping next to the opening to her den. "Come on. Giant rock or not, you still can get hit out here." She motioned to the large outcropping above her before pulling at her cloak, showing a singed spot in the fur by the right shoulder, "Overly curious wild Buizel learned the hard way. Not that I'm complaining."

Dewott hesitated outside the entrance, "I… thank your hospitality." He bowed and ducked inside with his rutsack in his arms. He paused to shake the water off. Then froze, bowing his head slightly, "My apologies."

Cubone sighed, looking away to reach up under her skull helm to wipe the water from her eyes. She settled it back in place and grabbed his arm, then pulled him into the darkness. Dewott half-stumbled along, bent over with his free-hand tracing the ceiling as he watched the pale arch of light disappear behind a bend in the tunnel.

Cubone scowled, "….they're going to have my head for helping you, or they're going to have my skull for helping you. Either way, I really… really don't care at this point. Stop here."

She let go of him. Dewott stood in the utter darkness, the echos of the downpour the only sound inside. "…may I ask why?"

"Why they want my head, why they'd take my skull, why I don't care, or why you should stop and not walk into a wall?" Sparks flew off the left wall from where Cubone's voice echoed from. "Then again, they're all the same question." More sparks, they fell off the wall and landed on a pile of kindling. Flames were coaxed into being, illuminating the small lizard's face. The flames were put into a pile off wood and slowly, a fire was born, the smoke drifting upward through a hole in the ceiling, a small trickle of water running down the wall and through a crack in the rocky floor. Cubone hung her cloak on a small peg driven into the wall next to the fire. "Well, except for the last one… maybe."

She wore the arms of the Buziel as a sort of gloves, keeping the palm of the paw but made holes for her claws to pass through where the Buezel's should have been. They ran back over her elbows to her shoulders, the little blue fins sticking at awkward angles as she moved. She left them on, slowly moving to rub her left forearm where the fin was when she saw Dewott's confused look.

Dewott shook his head, then took a moment to look around the small chamber, all the while glad that its ceiling allowed him to stand fully. The cavern's walls and floor were baked black with a soot that refused to come out of the rock despite repeated desperate attempts to wash it off, the floor showing clean wear patterns all around the chamber. A small sleeping area with several fur pelts sat a comfortable distance away from the fire; Dewott spotted Ratatta, Sentret, and Electrike furs in the pile. Across the room was another alcove, this one with several wooden panels wedged into the rock wall. Cubone pulled one away and shoved her pack into a niche in the rock beyond it. Aside from the tunnel leading into this main chamber, there was only one other passage leading out, arching out of view. Across from form it, a pile of rocks and rubble from an old cave-in had blocked another. With the soot of the fire from long ago all over them, the areas where Cubone had attempted to clear it were obvious. Moreso were the spots where the ceiling had caved in again.

Cubone saw him looking around, "If you know about my Tribe, you know what a Spirit Chamber is. …mine's down that tunnel." She closed the little cubby and opened another, reaching in for something inside. She froze, glared at Dewott, then wedged the little door against the side of the cubby, a little privacy screen.

"I will not desecrate it by entering," Dewott pledged, standing straight but with his eyes closed. Cubone shook her head before resting it against the panel she just replaced. She wore a different skull now, this one a Buizel's. The Buizel's two tails hung off the back like a long ponytail split in half, held together by two vertebrae at the back of the skull.

"There isn't much left to desecrate," She said softly, smoothing the fur of one of the tails and flicking it back over her shoulder. "The fire that charred the walls completely destroyed the chamber as well. All the shrines to generations of Spirit Guardians… it's all soot and ashes now. ...except for the shrines made by the Cubone who lived in here since—just mine to a little Shinx..." Her voice faded off as her eyes clouded for a few seconds before she suddenly moved to feed the fire.

Dewott watched her and slowly sat down on the other side of the fire. Her eyes quickly becoming lost in thought again as she leaned back. Dewott sighed. "…I never forgot the first life I took either. It haunts you… at least yours was wild. An—"

"I didn't kill the little guy," Cubone said quickly. "His parents abandoned him, runt of the litter, I think. He… starved to death, too weak to catch anything by himself. I found him too late. …he was purring in my arms when he went."

"I didn't mean to pry," Dewott said quickly, but cautiously. "I was just trying to... I'm sorry, I overstepped—"

Cubone scoffed, "Don't console me. I don't need your pity!" She sighed and shook her head, smoothing the fur of the Buizel tails again. "No. I thought for sure he'd pull through and I'd actually have someone—wild or not—who actually cared—tch, yeah!" Her voice snapped hazardous and she tossed the Buizel tail over her shoulder again. "Of all the Hatchlings to stalk, you got the one that aaaaaall the Marowak despise. There are loads of dens closer to the Caverns, but they put me all the way out here in Charred as a warning to me."

"…I accept your hospitality but—"

"No-no!" Cubone laughed, "You wanted to know how the Tribe treats us, right? Well, here's how they treat me and it speaks wonders of how the Tribe works. If I'm lucky, I see a Marowak about twice a month. If I'm lucky! They don't listen to me. They don't answer any questions I ask. They put me through long and tiring drills they don't think I can do—which I can, easily—and leave. That's it. It's been like that for about two years now. Why? You'll love this—because, as a Yearling, I was too curious."

She paused just long enough for Dewott to try to speak. She cut him off, "Yearlings stay within the Caverns for their first year to train, to learn, so on and so forth, yadda yadda. I'm sure you know that bit, yeah?!" She huffed, plopping back down on the other side of the fire. "…there was a chamber full of storytellers. We were taken down there by one of the Marowaks for a story or two one time. Most of the other Hatchlings thought it was boring—they just wanted to fight, learn how to hunt, and dream of being in the Bone Warriors. Me too, but…"

Dewott nodded, "You liked the stories and eventually it was just you going down there."

Cubone nodded, "Didn't matter what the story was, I liked listening to them. The Tribe's Foundation, The Tale of the Fifteen Spirits, the Three Spirit Tale, the Little, Hungry Caterpie. Didn't matter what." She sighed and propped her head up in her arms, staring into the fire again. "Little tiny Cubone, still wearing her shell, wandering down the darker caves to find them. Ignoring sparring practice, ignoring the Chief's…. I wouldn't call them lectures. He just kinda glares at you and you know what he's thinking. I don't think I've actually heard him speak…. I ignored that look.

"And then one day that chamber was completely empty. They were gone. No trace. No one would tell me where they went, just that they were moved to get me back to my training—I only had a year to learn before the trials began." She tossed her hands up in the air. "Except no one knew where they went. The old Marowak who knew the tales and stories of our Tribe… just gone." She sighed. "But they were somewhere—the eighth Hatchling didn't seem like she was fit enough to go through the Trials so she was sent to become a storyteller. …at least, that's what they tell me. It's why I'm the odd Hatch out."

"And what about the other Cubone Hatchlings in the Trial?" Dewott asked.

"I don't know because I don't know where any of them are. I've been all over the Reservation and… I think I'm literally the only Hatchling this side of the Caverns," She shook her head. "One of the Marowak tried to say that their lack of instruction is because I don't need it." She shrugged. "Well, in all of the Tests I'm the strongest fighter, so maybe they're right. I just take what I learned from the Storytellers and applied it." She glared at him. "That is what you're supposed to do with history, right?"

"Besides being forced to watch it repeat itself, yes," Dewott frowned, looking off to the side. "…I'm trying to think of a polite way to phrase this but…."

"My Tribe's retarded," Cubone said bluntly.

"Backwards, yes. But I'm glad you can see that," Dewott laughed sadly. "…but are you really the reason they were moved? It seems extreme."

"Apparently this all happened before! Except, I'm a much better fighter than the Exile ever was. Maybe they think I'll try to lead a coup like he did, but succeed this time. Apparently, this was his den and they gave it to me as a warning of what could happen. I guess. Apparently he killed another Hatchling in here, but I think they're just trying to scare me. Psh. It's just me in here. Well… don't get me started on that." She scowled, half glaring in the direction of her storage cubbies.

"A… coup," Dewott frowned. "Is that what they're telling you he did?"

"Basically." She sighed. "But that's how the tribe treats their Cubone. Or at least the one that actually… I'm pretty sure the others are completely wrapped up in their dogma to the point where they would have left you out there to fry—you're not supposed to be in here. No one else but the Marowak but it doesn't matter. The Final Trial is in a few weeks, and then I'm going to find out where the storytellers are. No, I'm going to demand to know where they are."

Dewott nodded, "So the Hatchling Trials are only seven years now."

"The one sane thing they did," Cubone scoffed. "I have a feeling it was the one Marowak trying to do away with the Trials completely. Heck, she was the one trying to get the Hatchlings to go to the Storytellers. …when they disappeared, she didn't know where they went either. She's a Marowak—a Bone Warrior Marowak and they won't tell her." Cubone sighed and looked at Dewott out of the corner of her eye. "Even the Scyther Tribe's… what do they do again?"

"They had all their Hatchlings in one camp—"

"That! The last Trial Test was in that place and there wasn't a single Scyther there! Either they moved or they don't do that anymore!" She growled and put her head in her hands. "There was only six of us at that test—someone… died…. Even wilds take care of their children while the superior Marowak half-abandon them." Cubone looked up to Dewott with tired, confused eyes, the glow in them flickering slightly. "Why is my tribe so messed up? I… …don't even know... I—I remember a Marowak saying that once a year…." she looked down at her feet. "I haven't been abandoned, have I?"

"I don't know," Dewott sighed, closing his eyes.

The silence clouded the air. Cubone watched the smoke drift upward, slowly becoming more in more interested in making sure it was filtering out through the hole properly and the amount of water flowing down it.

Then, "You said you liked stories."

Cubone looked over.

"I've got one for you," Dewott said, meeting her eyes. "…apparently one your tribe doesn't want you to hear."

"…go on."

"It's the Exile's."

Cubone sat back, eyes wide and blinking in shock. Dewott tilted his head. Cubone shook hers, "Wait, he's still alive!?"

"No," Dewott frowned. "…no, he died four years ago."

"Then why are you here—they don't care about him! They want all of us to forget him—in fact, I'm the only Hatchling who actually knows about him, and that's only because an old Marowak—"

"It's been twenty-three years since he left the Reservation," Dewott said curtly. "Plenty of time for the story to be bastardized and twisted. This warning, it doesn't just apply to them; they are just the hardest ones to tell it because the previous bearer of it was the Exile. I'm here to tell what really happened. In their eyes, his story starts with treason… and they're right. That's the story they don't want you to hear.

He stood up and paced away, towards the entry and leaned on the lower roof of the tunnel, "But it doesn't stop. His story continues, after he leaves the reservation, after he treks across the land of Arcia." He paused and looked back at her. "…he didn't die in vain. Many, many Pokemon owe him their lives." He shook his head and walked over to Cubone, kneeling down next to her. "And he died, he… did so… saving my life.

"His story starts with treason, yes. But it ends with a warning. One that everyone needs to hear if we're going to fight the forces that are coming our way in…" He drifted off and shook his head, "Your council expects the warning, but I'm going to tell them the entire thing—his entire story even if it means I have to hold them all hostage. But after all you told me, I doubt they'll take it to heart." Dewott sighed. "This story and telling it to all who listens… it's all I can do for him. And, at the very least, you can listen even if they don't. …my name is Joshua and, I ask you, will you hear it?"

Cubone blinked for a second, "…go for it."

"Thank you," Joshua nodded with a soft smile

"It's not like we're going anywhere," Cubone shrugged.

Joshua sighed again, shaking his head and sitting down next to her.

"Despite how secular your tribe is, the Council of Elders knows most of the Exile's friends and allies," Joshua started. "If any of them set foot in their territory, it will be under risk of death. However, your Council doesn't know me, and they think the warning as a warning, not a tale.

"I will be honest though. I… never actually met the Exile, I just know that he saved my life. I know everything through his friends and those with him at the time. They told me their parts of the stories and I've cataloged them. With the help of a few Psychics, I've made sure I've never will forget… though I do have to exaggerate for the listeners benefit. I've found that it's better to tell it this way rather than from his own perspective."

"How did he die anyway?" Cubone asked. Joshua looked down at her. "Usual dogma says exiles don't last a year, your saying he lasted… seventeen?"

"Some say he died fighting an army. Some say he died fighting a legendary."

"What do you say?"

"I don't say. I know. Four years ago, he made a final stand to protect…" Joshua faded off. "It's a bit confusing to say what you knowing very little about the outside world. But… just know this. Whatever they say he fought, be it armies or legendries, they're probably right. Only one of the three that fought against the horde there walked away… even though he'll say he didn't. And those who came to the rescue had to walk down a path lined with fainted Pokemon… hundreds, at the least." Cubone gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not exaggerating. The Exile and his allies were fully equipped and they used every single item they could in their bag. Everything from Sitrius Berries to Reviver… well, you wouldn't know what those are. Just know… just know, for now, they fought against a force greater than anything you'll ever know in this Reservation… one that Arcia rarely sees…."

He sighed sadly and looked into the fire for a few seconds.

After a minute, "…normally, I start far later in the story, about eleven years ago, give-or-take, and start when he nears the town of Bluecreek. But, for you," He looked over to Cubone, "I'll make an exception. For you, the story starts twenty-eight years ago, when he was six—one year in the Caverns and five into the Trials. It starts on a rainy day far more calm than his, but still strong all the same, he was up at the mouth of this very den, probably doing the same thing you were doing; a Cubone Hatchling, raging at the sky for raining. And, just like your life will change in a few days, so would his.

"But, events had already been set in motion. Events that would ultimately put him down the path that would eventually lead him to that final stand, a fighting retreat down the sides of a canyon alongside his two strongest allies against a world. And, ultimately, they would all fall. If no one heeds my warning, so will we."

Author's Note:

There's a long list of things I need to thank for inspiring me to write this. First and foremost, ScytheRider's: PMD: Silver Resistance, the story that made me want to write this one out. And then there's MokePon (a comic), CharCole (another comic), various Nuzlocke Comics (Petty's and Ky-Nim's in particular), as well as a strange little CYOA on the Brawl in the Family forums called 'A Slightly Different Pokemon Journey.'

This story is has had a lot of iterations before I put it up here and, after several months working on it, it's fit to be put up here.

So this is Hatch, a Cubone's Story.

Thank you for reading.