Introduction: Her history can never be...shall we say, detailed. There's far too much that went on in her life. You, reader(s), will also notice that I have left out a few details such as her age and the land I'm describing. The land does not matter. The age is 18, I will give you that. I decided to try something new with my character: post-war life. This is no particular war against any particular enemy. The reason the war was raged, the enemies, the land it was fought on...it is of no consequence for this is not about the war or the land she came from. This is about her and how she will go on with life, how she will make peace with herself, how she will survive this crisis, and how hard it will be for her to begin anew. This is a journey, not of a Pokemon trainer, but of a character finding the meaning of life with the help of her loyal Pokemon: Squirtle.

Chapter I: A Fallen Heroine

It was a dawn bathed in blood. So many varieties of red and pink smeared across the morning sky, the warm sun just barely peeking his head over the horizon, but no matter its strength, the sun's warmth would not be able to penetrate the cold that had come over the land. If the sun had eyes, it would weep for the sight it would have seen: a race forsaken of life and love, a battlefield lacking just heroes, and a universe of tragedy and blood. The war was over. Nurse Joys nursed the few that had survived as veterans in shelters. Only the people with forgiving and kind hearts helped to get the veterans back to their lives they had lived so fully before the war. The rest would spat them in disgust, pick on them in violent rages, or neglect them in blame. These were not veterans. They were thugs who deserved no hero's welcome home. These so-called veterans were the cause for the destruction of the earth they had worked with their bare hands and half the innocents ripped from their loved ones' arms. They were no heroes: they were murderers.

It was not only people who had died in the war. Pokemon had been wiped free of the land as well. Not all, of course, but those who had served the ones who had waged the war. It was a sad sight indeed for the sun to shine on. Should the sun have had anger in his heart and not been such a warm character, he would also have refused to bless the fallen people with his warm rays. Those fallen warriors who were cast down by most of their people should have thanked the sun and the stars for not turning their backs on them, but few of them were able to live with themselves. Regret and shame filled their hearts for what they'd done. The tears they shed could have made an ocean had the earth not been so forgiving and soaked them up. Every day, the heroes would relive that awful, pointless war, facing their worst possible fears over and over again, revisiting that nightmare of seeing their friends, their Pokemon, and their loved ones killed before their eyes. The sun could not weep for this sight, for he could not see; the people cried for him, for they could see, feel, hear, smell; the veterans could remember that tragedy.

Only one had managed to escape the fate the veterans were tied to. A single trainer, lost from her path that fate had led her down, was able to flee from the shame and anger of the people. Her past was not a tragedy. At least, not all of it; she had started out at the normal age of a Pokemon trainer, made lots of friends over the years, grew a great reputation for being a Water Mistress in her land, and remained the undefeated champion of the Water tournaments held annually for 4 solid years. She had loved and lost once before the war, finding it such a great loss until that new man had appeared. The strategist of war and mysterious lover of hers: Marin Joseph Akechi. Her great Water Pokemon team, all of which had been there for her from the beginning, had been her most precious treasure.

The war came. Everything she loved, everything she cared for…it was lost to her now. Joseph had joined the war and she had followed, though not to his approval. She had been so sure that she was ready to die for him...

The vivid image of Joe's face reappeared in her mind. He was once again fighting that swordsman, telling her to flee. A shadow overcast her and she turned around, staring into the eyes that had haunted her nightmares ever since: eyes of gray mingled with bloodlust and fear. Blood had suddenly warmed her face as a sword penetrated his heart before he could harm her. Again, she turned. Joe had run him through to protect her.

"Go."

The whisper of this single word was heard loud and clear over the screams of horror, the clashing of blades, the explosions of powerful Pokemon attacks being pitted against each other. Without warning, red liquid once again flew and covered her body. The silver glint of a sword could be seen from the front of Joe's chest, gently peeking out with his blood proving its victory. Joe whirled around to face his killer, his own sword slicing easily through the enemy's neck.

A coward. That's all she was. Because of her, he was lost in the war; one of the many labeled "Missing in Action". Only a single Pokemon of hers had survived: Squirtle. He was her starter given to her by her mother and very first Pokemon. He was a true friend and a brave survivor. So brave that he…

Snored. Loudly. This awoke the girl from her thoughts. She finally realized what she was staring at: Squirtle's small, brown tummy rising and falling with each breath. His abnormally light blue blubber was glowing somewhat purplish from the pink-and-red dawn mixed with the blue. He slept so soundly and peacefully, but she could not smile like she used to. Her eyes, once green and full of love and life, were steadily turning blue with each passing day. Not the cerulean blue her mother's family traditionally turned, but instead a deep, sad blue that filled the depths of the ocean. It had been so long since she had seen her loving friend, the ocean. She was so far away now and only her soft, rushing waters could sing the lament this girl felt in her heart.

"Shana Garron?"

Her name was a question. Slowly, her sad eyes lifted to find a Pokemon trainer, about two years older than herself, standing a few feet away from her with a skeptical look on his face. She did not move from her position. Her arm only wrapped around her bent knee more, the knee that supported her cheek.

"Yes?"

He worked his jaw tensely and then finally let loose his spit of disgust. It only reached a couple of inches short of her boot. Shana said nothing. She stared at the glob of saliva and watched it bubble on the ground, slowly being devoured by the wet earth. Her eyes returned to the trainer, who glared at her.

"You knew my uncle! You killed him!"

Squirtle woke up at the sound of the ranting and sat up. He saw the trainer's anger. He saw his trainer, unwilling to fight. The small turtle prepared to rise to his feet, but her hand rested on his shell and stopped him.

"Squirtle?" he looked at her quizzically.

The boy let loose a flurry of angry curses, swearing he would kill her himself. She did not return the anger, but nor did she show any sign that she was ashamed. This stubborn defiance angered him more and he withdrew a Heavy Ball.

"You'll pay for killing my uncle!"

The ball was tossed up into the air and opened, a red light shooting out and landing on the moss that covered a nearby rock. A Golem appeared, his earth tones matching those of their environment. Squirtle hopped up, the hand of his trainer moved away. He rushed in front of her to protect her, but Shana simply stood up and turned her back on him. The trainer grew even angrier.

"Golem, Seismic Toss!"

"Stop."

The trainer frowned, his blue eyebrows furrowed together in anger.

"Why should I?!"

"Enough blood has been shed during the war. Do you really think that killing someone else is going to do anything for your pain? Your uncle is gone. Accept it. Do not blame it on others or hate the ones who fought the war for his death. This rage you have will only destroy you from the inside out."

She picked up the tattered black cape that had been Squirtle's protection from the cold ground and wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening it with the Starmie broach at her collarbone. The blue pants she wore were covered in mud, some areas stained with blood. Her dark blue shirt was the same, only a single hole near her right shoulder where blood had once flowed freely from her own body. The girl left the trainer standing there at a loss for words underneath that oak tree. Squirtle followed close at her side, glancing over his shell to make sure the Golem wasn't about to make a sneak attack. The duo finally disappeared around the forgotten path's corner from sight, pressing on towards the border of the land. Where they were going, they were unsure. They would go as far as their feet could carry them.

(-o-)(-o-)(-o-)(-o-)

Well past the borders of their old land, the couple found themselves at the mercy of hunger. They were nearing a wide, swift river that looked more intimidating in the oncoming darkness and up close than it had from a distance in pure daylight. It was too wide to go around and they had no way to go over or under. Through it was the only way. They drew in their breaths and stepped towards the riverbank.

"I'll go first," Shana noted.

Squirtle looked uncertain, but nodded his head. He watched as Shana waded into the water, gradually moving one foot and then the other. She didn't lose her balance, surprisingly, but once the water spilled over her boots, she froze.

"Squirtle?!" he called.

It was about a minute before she looked over her shoulder at him, completely rigid. A very odd expression was painted across her face.

"It's…FREEZING!"

Squirtle put a toe in and shivered, quickly drawing it out. He looked at Shana and took in a deep breath for bravery, diving in. He resurfaced and swam towards her where he received a hug for a greeting. She lifted him into her arms and began to walk towards the area where the current had picked up great speed. For a few minutes, they watched the current, twigs and small branches racing with the waters. It was such a harsh river.

Looking up stream, Shana saw nothing. A little courage was plucked up within her, Squirtle set on her shoulders. A foot was moved into the fast current, only held there to test how fast it was moving and whether or not her weight would hold her. Her balance wavered a little and it was slightly difficult to place her foot down.

"Hold on Squirtle."

Squirtle held on as instructed and prepared himself for the worst. Shana stepped the other foot into the fast current. She was knocked off balance almost completely, but managed to save herself. After holding herself steady, she took another step. The same thing happened, but with each small step, she learned how to counter the current's attempts at knocking her off balance. They were almost one third across when Squirtle looked upstream.

"SQUIRTLE!"

Shana saw it just in time. The log slammed into them both and swept them under. It passed overhead on the surface while the two remained beneath the current, gradually being swept away. All Shana could think about was how cold it was. She couldn't open her eyes to see what to do, she couldn't think about anything but…drowning. The fear that enclosed her was almost as cold as the river that was killing her. The fear…she had experienced the same fear on the battlefield. Instead of soaked through with cold water, she had been drenched in blood. Her enemies' blood, her friends' blood, her Pokemons' blood… Shana passed out from the horrible memory of that smell.

While Shana began reliving her nightmare, Squirtle struggled to carry his trainer to the surface by the collar of her shirt. He was so small, but he would come through. He noticed the log had a small branch sticking out under the surface. The small Pokemon swam as hard as he could, trying to hold on to his trainer and reach for the branch at the same time. His strength was fading, but he couldn't give up. The water was so fast and strong while he was so small and weak…and tired. He was so tired…but he kept pushing. He felt his muscles straining to their limit and, just in time, managed to grab hold of the branch, gripping it tight with one "hand," the other gripping his trainer's collar.

"S-Squiirrtle!"

He pulled and, with all the strength he had left within him, lifted his trainer up to the surface of the rushing water. He, too, popped his head up and panted, holding onto another branch sticking out. His other arm remained wrapped around Shana under her arm, clinging to her in an attempt to keep her head above the surface. They were being swept off to who knew where…

Shana gasped and opened her eyes, looking around. The warm blood was no longer there. Instead, it was freezing waters that were sweeping them off into the unknown. Squirtle had saved her, she noticed; to return the favor, the girl relieved him of his exhausting duty of holding her above the water and turned around, holding onto the log. The tiny turtle moved over a little and climbed around to her back, holding his arms around her neck. She smiled. They were both okay. Her eyes slowly began to close and she passed out from the cold waters, Squirtle sleeping soundly on her back. As the river drifted them out to sea, the Squirtle and fallen heroine drifted off to sleep.