10 years ago

"And whatever you do, don't go to Boulder Mountain!"

Plusle and I often pretended to listen as all the grown-up Pokemon repeated that phrase to us over and over. It was almost a saying around the small village where we'd grown up - that, whatever you do, you could never go to the place called Boulder Mountain.

Our village was in a rich, beautiful valley surrounded by many, scraggly peaks. The biggest was the Forbidden Peak, which attracted tons of experienced rescue teams that loved to train in the huge mountain. They'd always arrive in our village asking for directions to the peak, and a few days later they'd return defeated, saying Forbidden Peak was "too difficult".

The grown-ups in our village never really listened to the explorers whenever they heard them say that. "They don't know what real difficulty is," the adults would say, shaking their heads sadly. "They've never been to Boulder Mountain."

Even though Forbidden Peak was the tallest mountain around, everyone in the village feared Boulder Mountain. At first, it didn't seem that threatening: it stood towards at the northern edge of the valley, just like Forbidden Peak, and it looked cracked and old. There didn't seem to be any caves that hid terrifying wild Pokemon. Boulder Mountain didn't even have a peak - the tip of the mountain was rounded, like a boulder. It seemed tiny compared to Forbidden Peak.

The real reason why everyone was afraid of Boulder Mountain, though, was because of the monster that lived there. At night, Plusle and I sometimes heard distant roaring - said to come from the monster that inhabited Boulder Mountain. All the adults told us to never go there, unless we wanted to disappear forever. We mostly obeyed, but Plusle always seemed to ignore their warnings.

Plusle knew a secret about Boulder Mountain that he'd only share with me. Some days when we played in the meadows around the village, he'd point at the tip of Boulder Mountain and say, "Minun, I know what's up at the top. Don't you want to know? There's a hill at the top, Minun, and silver flowers grow there!"

Even though I never really believed him, I'd always wanted to find out what Boulder Mountain really looked like at the top. Plusle said it was a hill of silvery flowers, but I thought that maybe there was a cave, or even a crater, all the way up there. But I never wanted to find out. Each night, just the distant roars of the monster made me curl up in fright.

Plusle didn't seem scared by the monster, though. He'd often look at Boulder Mountain say in a dreamy sort of voice, "Minun, I want to go there. I want to stand at the top of Boulder Mountain and pick silver flowers and look at the whole world from all the way up high. Minun, you'll take me there someday, will you? Will you?"

I'd always try to find excuses, like that it wasn't safe, or the monster would eat us, or something. But Plusle seemed unfazed. "We can be friends with the monster!" He'd say cheerfully. "We'll give him some silver roses and he'll like us then!" Still, he didn't ever really try to get me to go. Maybe he was secretly afraid, too. I would never know.

But even though Plusle and I disagreed about Boulder Mountain, we were still the best, the closest, the most affectionate friends the whole village had seen. The first time I saw him was the day I was born - Plusle's parents had brought him - only a few months' older - over to celebrate. Ever since then we'd had so much fun, caused so much mischief and cheered for more times than we could remember.

The greatest trial of our friendship came one cold, harsh winter when we were eight. Snowstorms buried the village daily; freezing, biting wind swept across the frostbitten valley, occasionally blowing the thatched roof off of some unlucky Pokemon's hut. At night, a chilling, icy cold settled across the silent landscape, illuminated by a beautifully clear moon. Sometimes during the absolutely still, quiet, tranquil nights, I'd climb up to the straw roof and stay for as long as I could stand the cold, quietly taking in the terribly beautiful landscape.

But that winter was far from serene. A deadly disease was spreading among the hungry, cold villagers. Worse, the cure was unavailable: a certain type of berry that only grew on low-lying bushes that the snow quickly buried and killed. Since all the mountain passes were snowed in, it was impossible to travel to our remote little village, and that winter no rescue teams could arrive with the help we desperately needed.

Soon, many were suffering from the plague: dozens of Pokemon were desperately diseased and dying. My mother, a Pichu, and father, a Minun knew enough from seeing their closest friends die to know they had the disease too. Afraid that it would spread to me, they made one of the hardest decisions they had: to leave me in the care of Plusle's parents.

One morning I woke to find myself in Plusle's home. He tearfully explained that my parents had gone "to a faraway land" so they wouldn't spread the disease to me. I never heard from them again; later, I learned that they'd died soon after. But I wouldn't know, wouldn't believe that tragic fact for months to come. And so I patiently waited, day after day, for my parents to return, and wondering night after night what happened to them when they didn't.

Thankfully, after an icy, harsh eternity the nightmare was over. As soon as the winter began to lighten up, determined rescue teams pushed through the last blizzards and past harrowing canyons. They brought all sorts of relief, yet they were unprepared to see the devastation our village had been through: so many Pokemon had died that the village seemed abandoned. Rescue teams searched everywhere in the valley for the cure, but couldn't find a single bush. They eventually brought it in from the outside world, but it was too late to save the Pokemon that already died.

But even though the plague was over, I was suffering from another kind of disease: loneliness. Plusle kept me company all through the harsh winter, but his family could barely afford to feed me. Plusle's parents tried as hard as they could, but it was painfully obvious that it wouldn't be enough. They refused to abandon me; I was almost family to them, but I knew they couldn't last much longer.

Then Evie came.

The first time I saw her was when the very first rescue teams had forced their way into the valley, overcoming impossible odds: the bitter, wintry, frostbitten weather, the twisting, wandering mountain passes that were often invisible in the blinding, swirling blizzards, and the treacherous ravines covered by a blanket of snow, inviting death to all who wandered into the trap.

Evie wasn't part of those groups of brave souls that risked everything to bring help to us: she had gone along to assist them, in exchange for them acting as guides to help her through the mountains. She'd come to the valley to study about its lush, beautiful wilderness, its amazing number of native Pokemon, and its rich history, and intended to stay for a few months.

Plusle and I noticed her immediately. Perhaps it was because she looked like no other Pokemon we'd ever seen ("Like a blue fox with fins!" Plusle had commented), or perhaps it was simply because we didn't see that many outsiders who wanted to stay in our village, but the first chance we got, we set out to learn all about her.

Evie was very sweet and welcomed our attention as we accompanied her on her trips around the valley, gathering information for her research. She'd often answer our questions as she collected some plants, or sketched pictures of the village, or spoke to the old, wise Pokemon elders that lived around the valley.

We learned that she was a "vaporeon" ("we are gentle, flowing water pokemon; one of the four ancient, noble evolutions of eevee", she explained with a smile), and she was taking a break from her rescue team life (after a tragic event she wouldn't tell us about, her team had disbanded) to study our valley before moving on.

And why our valley? "My ancestry comes from here," she said, smiling mysteriously. Later, we discovered that she had a distant relative in the village: old Sol, an umbreon famous around the village as an experienced mountain guide, and she was staying at his small, modest hut.

Of course, it wasn't always us asking the questions. Evie was just as interested about us. But while Plusle cheerfully answered all her questions, I mostly stayed silent for fear of having to talk about my family and the plague that killed them, that made them wither away until they were nothing but mere ghosts of their usual, vibrant, lively selves. I hoped she wouldn't mind, but Evie could tell something was wrong. She'd often glance at me worriedly, but I always looked away.

Evie never confronted me about it, until one afternoon while Evie and I were gathering wildflowers for her collection. She had been picking one of the thousands of yellowish gold flowers that dotted our valley when she suddenly stopped. "Minun? Can I speak to you?" She asked.

I looked around for Plusle, but I couldn't see him. He must've wandered off again, I thought. Then a thought occurred to me: had she purposefully waited for this moment to start a conversation? A cold dread began to rise in me as I began to realize what exactly she wanted to talk about.

Evie turned to me, her deep blue eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight, her aqua-blue pelt sleek and shiny, her white, ruffled collar and beige fins perfect characteristics of the noble vaporeon she embodied. She looked stunning that afternoon, although her worried face betrayed her otherwise content appearance.

"Minun? Is something...wrong?" She asked hesitantly.

Panicking, I feigned ignorance. "What's wrong, Evie?" I asked, trying my absolute best to sound innocent. "I feel fine today. Did something happen?"

Evie turned away for a brief moment. She appeared to be deep in thought, her back facing me, the flowers in her paws blowing in the gentle breeze.

"No, Minun. I mean...is there anything wrong with life?" She paused for a second before continuing. "You always seem so...so gloomy, Minun. Like something bad happened to you that stole all your happiness, all your lively banter and mischief that...yes, that I've come to love about you and Plusle." She said.

For a while, there was a long silence between us. Then:

"Well...if you don't want to tell me, I suppose it's alright," she conceded. "I...well, I have some things of my own that I'd rather not tell anyone." She admitted. Suddenly, she swung around and met my gaze. "But if you have anything- anything at all, really, that you'd like to talk to me about...well, I'm always here," she said. "If you're feeling sad, or gloomy, or...oh, I don't know; if you're feeling bad at all, come to me, okay? Please?"

A faint smile came to her face when I nodded. She reached out her slender, soft paw, and I shook it. "Great. That's- it's settled, then, I guess." For a moment it seemed as if she would go back to collecting wildflowers, but suddenly, her face was clouded with gloom.

"Oh, Minun-" She said sorrowfully. "It just- it hurts me so much to see you like this. It hurts me to see you so sad, so down all the time. It hurts me to see you so depressed, when everyone else is so happy! You and Plusle - you two are always so cheerful that it just doesn't seem like you to act like this, day after day."

A brief pause. I heard a sniffle, although I couldn't tell if Evie was crying or not. "Whatever happened to you, Minun? What could've caused you to be scarred like this? I shudder to think of it. In fact, I never want to think of it, but I must now. So please, Minun. Tell me. Tell me so I can help you cheer up, so I can help you heal and be your happy little self again."

I stood for what seemed like hours before I said a single word. But slowly, in bits and pieces, I began to recite my life, all the way up to my parents' death. I spoke of them, of my faint memories of their loving caresses, their gentle, soothing murmurs, their nighttime lullabies. I spoke of the winter, of the plague, of the devastation it caused; but...I suddenly stopped there, right before I had to recount that traumatic episode that still gave me nightmares. I froze: I locked up, I stood there dumbly.

Evie knew what was coming. Somehow, she'd guessed. Perhaps it was because I was suddenly in tears, or perhaps it was because it seemed like my mother's and father's death was inevitable, but somehow, she read the silent message.

"Did they-?" She questioned tearfully. It was all she needed to ask. Through my tears I nodded slowly; reluctantly, even, as if each time I nodded, I was confirming that my parents really were dead, that my parents were really gone and not living happily ever after in "a faraway land".

Then Evie did something very unexpected: she reached forward and wrapped me in a hug. I could feel the wet tear streaks down her face as she silently embraced me. Words couldn't explain the grief we felt, and she didn't try to.

Instead, she silently voiced it through that almost sorrowful hug, as if she was holding onto me tight, afraid she'd lose me too to some monstrous plague that would sweep through the village, taking me away in the middle of the night to some faraway land where I would wither away, never to be seen again.

From then on, Evie became something truly special to us. When she found out about the stressed, chaotic existence I lead in Plusle's overburdened family, she immediately volunteered to move in with me. "Besides," she remarked, "Sol's hut is awfully small, and I need more space for my research." And thus, one day she moved into the spacious, comfortable hut that I used to call home, and could now call home again, to act as my caretaker.

Plusle and I never thought of Evie as a mother - she was still fairly young compared to the old, seasoned adult Pokemon. In all honesty, she was more like a big sister of sorts. That didn't make us adore her less, though, and we constantly showered her with gifts of appreciation.

After Evie took over the responsibility for caring for me, days became much more routine. Evie would rise first - usually before dawn ("An old habit," she'd say), and prepare for the day. By the time I woke up she would be almost ready to go. We'd wolf down a quick breakfast and then head out, her to complete her studies, me to frolic about with Plusle for the rest of the day.

Whenever I didn't feel well, Evie would immediately call the day off and spend all her time by my bedside, worriedly fussing over me, fetching me blankets, preparing all sorts of herbal treatments she'd learned to make. She always worried about my health more than I would expect; but I knew why. At times when I didn't improve she was almost frantic with worry, and it took a large amount of reassurance from me (and often from other Pokemon as well) to calm her down.

Soon, I grew satisfied with my life. Weeks turned into months which turned into years. Evie had originally planned to stay for only a few months, but, as she explained, "I can't just leave you all alone, Minun. I can't." Still, this didn't stop me from feeling bad about the huge sacrifice she was making to ensure the happiness of one small Minun that she didn't even know.

But even though Evie was often around, that didn't stop Plusle from talking about his old dreams. As the years went on, Plusle mentioned the mountain less and less. Sometimes he'd stop talking about it for months at a time, only to revive the subject when I least expected it. We would be discussing something, or skipping down the paths lining the small stone huts of our town, and his eyes would gleam with a sudden energy. Then he'd begin to talk about Boulder Mountain again, speaking animatedly about the hill of silver roses that crowned the round peak.

I'd often ask Evie to try to convince him that it wasn't a good idea, and she'd always give him a sincere talk about why going to Boulder Mountain was, indeed, not a very good idea at all. Plusle hardly listened, though, and mostly wanted her to tell him what exactly the monster was. Evie never answered, either saying she didn't know or that he was young and would be too afraid. This seemed to frustrate Plusle so much that he often shrugged off her patient talks without a second thought. All the while, he never gave up his dream.

I had never expected him to actually try to achieve his dream, though.

But that was exactly what he did.