~(D)~

"It's been about two weeks since the incident," Volbeat explained as he led the group through the forest. "There were two of them. One was a Snivy. He was the one who I saw walking in the forest at first…I don't know where his friend came from."

"Friend?" Weavile asked.

"Yeah, there was a Charmander with him when I confronted them. I hadn't seen him before then, so he caught me a bit by surprise when I actually confronted them. Anyway, I stole the Snivy's supplies and brought them to a mystery dungeon in the forest. He followed me, and brought his friend Charmander with him. They fought back well enough to keep their lives, but I don't know if that's the case anymore. The supplies that I stole were destroyed. They could be starving, thirsty, sick, or dead. One thing's for sure, though: they're not at Machoke's Training Camp."

"This is a lovely story, Volbeat," Weavile said, "but you still haven't answered the important question."

"What question is that?"

"How do you know where the Training Camp is?"

"Ah, yes. I was just getting to that." Volbeat pulled out a pamphlet from his satchel. "I found this with the Snivy's supplies. It's an overview of Machoke's Training Camp. Details of what's done there are a bit broad, but there's a map to where it is on the back."

"What? Give me that!" Weavile pulled the pamphlet from Volbeat's hands. He looked through it, eyes wide. "Why have the Arashi never seen or heard of these?"

"It confuses me as well. But the Training Camp is, if anything, discreet..."

Dewott stopped listening to the conversation. Weavile's decision to follow Volbeat to the encampment had left him feeling uneasy. Their task had been to continue exploring the area for signs of the Fountain, not to linger about with a stranger who had entirely different plans.

Dewott looked back at his team members. Mawile was arguing with Krokorok. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but judging on the look of Mawile's face, he was losing. Ponyta was sniffing some odd looking leaf, which he soon bit into and promptly spit out afterwards. Abra was just floating along, seeming to pay attention to everything and nothing at the same time.

They seemed to be following a river. It was completely out of sight, but Dewott managed to hear its low roar to his left. As they crossed through the fallen trees and twisted shrubberies, a clearing made itself present in the direction they were walking.

"What were you planning to do with this information?" Dewott heard Weavile ask.

Volbeat looked back at him, as if confused by the question. "Stage a siege. What else would I do?"

"What, immediately?"

"I—no, but fairly soon."

"For goodness sake, have you even thought this out? We don't know how many Pokémon there are there. We don't know their defenses. All we know is where they are, and our only evidence of that is a piece of paper that you found off of a wandering Pokémon."

"Well…" Volbeat seemed to struggle to find the right words. "That is true, but we have the element of surprise. If we amass a large enough army, we could catch them off guard."

"How could you be so sure of yourself?" Weavile's tone was growing harsher. "If our army is too large, we wasted working Pokémon. If our army is too small, we lose. And how are you so positive that they don't know that we know where they are?"

"Who would tell them?"

"The Snivy you saw!"

"I left him stranded in this forest without any supplies."

"He was a day away from Machoke's Training Camp if this map is correct. He could find it if he were the slightest bit competent."

"I don't think so. He doesn't have a map anymore."

Weavile looked as if he were holding in a violent spasm. "But he had one! That means he knows where to go. You don't have a map to your base of operations, do you? But you're still navigating through here just fine! What, did you take the Snivy's sense of direction as well?"

Volbeat thought for a moment. "Yes. There was a compass among his supplies."

Weavile face-palmed. "Alright, that does it. You're not competent enough to lead something like this. As a higher officer, I'm ordering an overhaul of command. You will no longer be leading your base of operations."

"What?!" Volbeat stopped mid-flight and fell to the ground. "This is preposterous. Who would take my place?"

"Me," Weavile said.

At this point, everybody had stopped save for Weavile.

"Weavile, I don't think that's possible," Krokorok said.

"Yeah. We already…have something to do," Mawile added.

"Articuno's Fountain? Remember?" Ponyta said. "Our priority is finding that."

"We're not going to find it here," Weavile said. "I'd rather we spend our time doing something more useful."

"Weavile, Volbeat wasn't incorrect," Abra said. "Without a way to navigate through the forest, the Snivy wouldn't be able know where he's going. If the Camp was a full day away, and the Snivy had no resources for navigation, there would be very little chance of him finding it in an environment like this. I've gone through the models and calculations."

"That doesn't make his notions any less well thought out," Weavile said. "We're setting up our camp within here. Dewott, find a nice central area and unpack. Do it quickly; the sun is about to set."

The encampment was right in front of them at this point. Dewott obeyed, heading forth. He searched for an opening among the twenty or so tents that were surrounding an open area. When he found a spot, he threw the supplies to the floor and started setting up the tents.

Of course this was your plan, you power hungry two-timer, he thought to himself as he straightened out the supporting sticks. Abandon your duties so that you could take more control elsewhere. You have a whole company at your command now; you're not acting under
General Masquerain's command anymore. This is the last order I'm taking from you, Weavile.

The day was almost gone once Dewott finished setting up. He found Weavile at the center of the clearing when he returned to the rest of his party. There was a campfire site there. He was speaking to a group of forty or fifty other Pokémon whom Dewott presumed to be the others in Volbeat's former company.

"The Training Camp's location may be known to us now, but that does not mean we're prepared. We must gain some insight first. Two of you are going to enter Machoke's Training Camp posing as new recruits. You will remain 'new recruits' until you feel you have gathered enough information. Make a note of weak spots, number of Pokémon, how strong they are, their supplies, and anything else you feel would be important to us. Talk amongst yourselves on who's going go, and have a final decision by tomorrow. That is all for today." Weavile turned to his own party who was standing behind him. "Dewott has finished setting up the tents. We should rest."

"Weavile," Dewott said, "while this infiltration of Machoke's Training Camp is taking place, we could use the time to search for the Fountain."

"No, Dewott. We can't."

Ponyta raised a brow. "Hey, wait. That's a good idea. We're not going to be doing anything in your plan, right? Why should stick around with you if you're not looking for the Fountain?"

"Ponyta, the marshall of this platoon was bested by two untrained Pokémon. That doesn't give me high expectations for these soldiers of his. We will be doing something while we're here. We'll train them."

"Oh, for the love of Zekrom—We're not their trainers; we're the ones Masquerain chose to help him find Articuno's Fountain. Someone has to be looking for it!"

"Wait. Now, hold on a second," Mawile said with a perplexed look. "Weavile actually makes a good point. If we manage to get Machoke's Training Camp taken care of, then we won't need to worry about them anymore."

Weavile glanced over to Mawile. "Thank you, Mawile. Nobody else seems to get that."

Mawile continued. "Remember when we were jumped at Cream Hills? We've been blocked off from the whole south-east region ever since. We lost Ninjask after we were attacked by the Training Camp members at Funnel Pond, right before the blockade. Taking them out could be a massive help. Perhaps this is just another step in the journey that we need to take."

Krokorok's face had softened. "I guess…when it's put that way, this may not be such a bad idea."

"I've thought it out," Abra said. "Under a two significant figure model, our daily rate of attack is 3.4%. Attacks hold us back 3.9 days of exploring on average, which means we're set back approximately 4 days per month. This infiltration would have to last no longer than 2/15ths of the rest of our search. If we spend 2 months here, and we find the Fountain before 13 more have passed, then we'd've wasted our time. Even with our ability to hypothesize the Fountain's location, we'd have an expected location time of about 8 months. virtually remain time efficient if we stayed here for up to 68 days."

"Huh," Krokorok said, sounding mellow. "Our likelihood of finding the Fountain is really that low?"

"In other words," Abra said, ignoring Krokorok, "If this infiltration lasts longer than 2 and a half months, we would've made the wrong decision."

"We should be done with this in half that," Weavile said. "Now, again—get to bed. Our day starts earlier tomorrow."

Mawile folded his arms. "Hey, Weavile, I don't know if I brought this up before, but someone told me that the brain doesn't actually start to fully function until after early morning has passed. Therefore, I propose we sleep in and start our day later."

"Are you going to be smart and go to bed now, or will I have to baby you?"

Mawile put his hand on his chin. "You might have to baby me. I'm not tired yet. I'll only be able to fall asleep if you tuck me in at this point."

Ponyta let out a snort of laughter.

"Mawile, quit being a child," Weavile said.

"Okay, fine," Mawile said, turning to his tent. "Can't say I didn't try. Will you at least read me a bedtime story?"

"I find none of this humorous!"

"Okay, mom, I'm going." He went in his tent.

Weavile sighed. "You four aren't going to be as difficult, are-?"

"NIGHT NIGHT!" Mawile shouted from his tent.

"Argh, SHUT UP, MAWILE," Weavile shouted back.

"…I LOVE YOU."

Weavile slapped his face. "Just ignore him."

"All right," Krokorok said. "Now that the kids are in bed, let's tell ghost stories around the fire and talk about girls."

"Okay, you know what? I'm done with this conversation. You four can stay up for all I care." Weavile left to his tent without another word, leaving Ponyta and Krokorok to their own self-amusement.

Dewott left as well. Neither he nor Ponyta actually had a tent for themselves. Ponyta would set them on fire if he had stressful dreams, and Dewott found the outside both more peaceful and more helpful for survival. He believed that sleeping in even marginally more hostile conditions would accommodate his body for situations that required such endurance.

He perched himself under a tree nearby and waited for the rest of the camp to fall asleep.

Fortunately, that wasn't too long. A few minutes had passed and by then they were all in their shelters. Dewott waited through a few more minutes of silence and stood up. He walked through the encampment and looked at the tents he set up for the others.

I think I might be the only one on the team that can set those up properly, he thought with a thin smile. He turned back and headed for the woods. I almost feel bad that I'm leaving them.

It was only until he took his first steps in the woods that he realized that he was being followed, and it was only because Ponyta whispered, "Where are you going?" that he realized it.

Dewott kept walking, ignoring Ponyta.

"Let's see. You can't be going to the bathroom. You're too far out for that to make sense." Ponyta trotted in front of him, as if to study his movements. "Maybe you're…scouting? No, why would you do that?" His eyes widened and he let out a gasp. "I know," he said, moving closer to Dewott. "You're running away!" he whispered.

Dewott stopped, then sighed. "You're quicker at finding things out than I thought."

"Yes! I knew it!" Ponyta kept his excited whisper. "Where are you going? No, don't tell me. That's obvious. You're going back to Masquerain. Or maybe you're going to search for the Fountain yourself. It's either one or the other. Am I right?"

Dewott started walking again.

"I'll take it as a yes. I-" Ponyta paused for a moment. "I want to come with you."

"Fine," Dewott said.

"No, I'm serious, and there's no way you're stopping me. This is a bad decision Weavile's making. That group is perfectly capable of taking out Machoke's Training Camp without us. We need to focus on Articuno's Fountain."

"Good. This plan of his is a ploy for power."

"What do you mean?"

"I never trusted Weavile. My loyalties are with Masquerain and only Masquerain. I think Weavile doesn't care for the Fountain or for the rest of us. The way I saw it, he found this encampment as an opportunity to gain more manpower, and seized it. He won't be looking for the Fountain again."

"Huh…Don't you think that sounds a bit shallow? Even for Weavile?"

"Perhaps, but I'm not risking it."

"So I'll take it we're going back to Masquerain?"

"Yes."

Ponyta looked around. "How do you know where to go? I don't see any path."

"We were following a river when we walked here. You can hear it on your right."

Ponyta perked up his ears. "So we are. Impressive. So we'll follow the river back until we get back to the spot where we last camped. Since we were following a rough path before that, we'll just follow it straight to the cave Masquerain is in."

Dewott nodded. "We'll walk for another hour, then rest. Pace yourself. We have a lot of distance to cover and not long until they start looking for us."

Ponyta smiled, and galloped ahead until he was nearly out of sight.

~(C)~

"And so, when we got back, the sentret was still...well, 'fresh' would be the best way to put it." Snivy was walking beside Breloom through a narrow trail. Charmander was following behind, listening to their conversation. "Anyway, per its invincibility, I tanned it and made it into a little cape. I've grown to like it, actually." Snivy put a hand on his shoulder and started stroking the fur. "It's comfortable. And it reminds me that seemingly insignificant things can hold a lot more potential than you think. Once a rotting carcass, now a cozy cloak."

"It's amazing how you managed to skin and tan that so well," Breloom said. "You have quite a talent there."

"Oh, no, it was nothing," Snivy insisted. "I used to tan hides all the time with my brother. We made a whole rug out of pelts in our secret cave."

Charmander looked up. "I didn't know you had a secret cave. Was that where you said you went with your brother?"

Snivy looked back. "Yup! It wasn't a mystery dungeon, though. I think it was Pokémon-made."

"Aw, that's so awesome," Charmander said. "Why didn't we do that?"

"So what about you, Charmander?" Breloom said, looking back at him. "Is there anything special about that necklace of yours?"

Charmander pinched the big tooth on his necklace. "No, not really. Snivy made it for me as a belated-"

"What do you mean 'not really?!'" Snivy shouted. "Breloom, that necklace is composed of the fangs and claws of a mightyena he slew."

"You killed a mightyena?" Breloom asked. "That's crazy! I think you have a bad case of modesty."

"No, you weren't there," Charmander said, shaking his head. "Neither of you were. I wasn't going after it or anything. I heard a growl behind me and flinched…with a knife in my hand…that ended up killing the mightyena."

"How did you end up getting away from the rest of the pack?" Breloom asked.

"That's the odd thing," Snivy said. "There wasn't a rest of the pack. Just the one mightyena."

"Huh…odd."

Charmander nodded. "So now, you might understand why that wasn't really a big deal."

"No, I don't," Breloom said. "Mightyena are still dangerous when they're alone. You escaped death there. Wear that necklace with pride."

Charmander rolled his eyes. "So, anyway, Snivy made it for me as a belated birthday present, uh...nine days ago?"

"When was your birthday?" Breloom asked.

"I think it was 12 days ago, but I've stopped counting."

"Well, it's not too late to say happy belated birthday! How old are you?"

"Uh…12 days old."

Breloom smiled. "Yeah, and I'm 15 days old, so I'm a bit older than you. Seriously, though, how old are you?"

Snivy spoke. "From what we believe, Charmander has actually only been a Charmander for 12 days. He lost his memory and woke up in a crater not too far from here. Believe me; I saw it."

Breloom had a lost look on his face. "What?"

"He said that he remembered being a human, but lost his memory. He can't even remember his name."

"A human?" Breloom looked at Charmander. "Is this true?"

Charmander nodded. "I'm still not quite used to this body. My fingers used to be so much longer."

"A human…" Breloom didn't appear content on disbelieving this story. "Well, that's just insane."

"You know, I couldn't agree more," Charmander said.

"I mean, it's not every day you—hey, Snivy, are you okay?"

Snivy had lost his balance and accidentally ran into a tree. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, rubbing his face. "Just got a bit dizzy there."

Charmander sighed. "It's been a long day. Snivy got a bad fever overnight and we decided to try and find some oran berries in a mystery dungeon nearby….Never found any, unfortunately. I think we should rest for a moment. I'm a bit tired too."

Breloom stopped walking. "Oh, uh, okay. I'm sorry; I didn't know you weren't feeling well. But, uh…just for a moment, alright? I know we've been walking for a long time, but we don't have much ground left to cover."

"No, no, I'm fine," Snivy said. "I'll be able to keep walking."

"No, Snivy, you're not fine," Charmander said. "We overexerted ourselves in the mystery dungeon—especially you. Let's just take a few minutes to rest."

"Well…okay." Snivy shifted off to the side and collapsed on a tree. "Oh, hey, look." He pointed a weak finger. "You can just see the sun setting behind all the trees."

Charmander and Breloom looked towards the horizon. There were streaks of light going through the trees and painting the pinkish green forest a hue of orange. The image of the clouds gleamed overhead and beyond the branches and leaves: their purple underbellies were highlighted with golden shells.

"Oh, how pretty," Breloom said as he took a seat on the bosky ground.

"I'll never get tired of this forest," Snivy said, his voice getting softer. "The smell, the sounds, the sights: it's all so beautiful." He was mumbling now. "So…beautiful." With a wan sigh, he slipped into a fit of sleep.

Breloom chuckled lightly. "I really like this guy. He's able to see beauty in this world even when it's become so hectic."

Charmander had already seated himself. "Yeah. I mean, so far, I've seen much more beauty than chaos, but I'll take your word on it. I have found Snivy to be admiringly artistic."

"He was really good at masking his sickness. I seriously had absolutely no idea." Breloom paused for a moment. "So…" He seemed to be a bit lost. "You say you were a human once?"

"It's a very short and complicated story," Charmander said. "I'm probably not articulate enough to tell it in full detail. Short story shorter: Snivy found me in a little crater. I remember being a human before this, but that's about it. I don't know why I'm a Charmander. I don't know my name. I don't know what the deal with the crater was. I'm completely clueless…and it kills me."

Breloom blinked. "…Oh."

Charmander rubbed his neck. "Heh, sorry. That probably came out a bit overly-dramatic."

"Well, it's completely understandable. Whether or not you actually were a human before all this, not knowing about your past has gotta be tough. Is that why you're joining the Camp? To see if you can figure out how and why you got here the way you are?"

"Actually, that's the very reason I'm not joining."

Breloom perked. "You're not?"

"No. Hopefully by the end of the day, I'll have found a town or village to stay in. I'll see if I can find out what could've made me this way by myself."

Breloom was silent. He just stared sadly at Charmander with his mouth slightly agape.

"Is…something wrong?" Charmander asked. "Did I say something that offended you?"

Breloom shook his head. "No, no, you didn't. You….Does that mean that this is going to be the last time you see Snivy? You two seem like pretty good friends."

That struck Charmander as a painfully obvious realization. We only have a few minutes left together, he thought. Charmander looked at the sleeping Snivy, and accidentally smiled. "You know," he said, hardly even thinking about what he was saying, "I wouldn't be surprised if our paths crossed again. But for now…yeah. This is going to be goodbye."

There was a chill growing in the air. The warmth of the sun began to fade, along with its light, and Charmander's tail began to glow with the ensuing darkness.

Breloom stood. "We should probably start walking again." He looked at Snivy. "Uh…."

"Yes! I get to wake him up, this time!" Charmander walked over to Snivy. "Good morning, Snivy."

Snivy's eyes shot open. "It's morning? No way."

"Why, sure it is. Look around you."

Snivy did as Charmander told. "Oh. Would you look at that; so it isn't." He sat himself up and stretched. "Alright, well, are we ready to go?"

"Yeah. In actuality, we're losing daylight, so we want to get going soon."

"Got it." Snivy stood. "Let's go."

Breloom stepped in front of them. "Alright. Follow me. We're going to be cutting through the woods up ahead. From there, we'll find a path that leads directly to Machoke's Training Camp."

The scenery that formed from the nature around him was unsurprisingly reminiscent of the walks Charmander took every night. The difference now, though, is that he isn't alone. Like in the mystery dungeon, he was lighting the way for others, not just himself.

This time, Charmander was walking beside Breloom, and Snivy was lurking behind. A couple of times, they had to stop and wait for him to catch up. But it wasn't long before the path Breloom had promised emerged, and Snivy was still on his feet walking by the time they made it there.

Breloom turned to talk to Charmander and Snivy. "The Training Camp is just up ahead to the left. We should be there in a matter of minutes." He turned his head to Charmander. "Go to the right on this path. There is a village right on the edge of the forest called Chide. You said you were looking for information, or at least a place to start your search for what caused your transformation? You'll find no place better."

"Why?"

"Their chief export is knowledge. That town is full of scholars, writers, and—of course—books. A pool of knowledge as great as Chide's can only be found in our capital."

Charmander looked to the right of the path. He could only see a few feet until it disappeared in the darkness. "Alright," he said. "Thanks for the direction."

"Charmander."

Charmander turned his head to Snivy, whom he presumed called out his name. He was holding his knife out to him.

"I want you to have it," Snivy said.

Charmander looked at the knife, and immediately shook his head. "No."

"You'll need it more than I will. Take it."

Charmander was was still shaking his head. "No, Snivy, it's yours. Please don't give it to me."

"It's done you a lot of good in the past. Come on, consider it a parting gift."

"Snivy, that knife is the only thing you have left. I don't want you to lose anything else. You've given so much to me already anyway. I'm indebted to you more than you are to me."

Snivy slowly brought the knife back to his body and then dropped it on the ground. "That's not true…Charmander, the company you've provided for me is far greater than anything I've given to you in return."

Charmander felt his eyelids lowering. "Snivy, don't get sentimental on me, because you're gonna start crying, and then I'm gonna start crying, and we'll never-" Snivy ignored Charmander and hugged him tightly. Charmander could hear his sobs. He wrapped his arms around Snivy as well. "…I guess I can let it go this time."

It truly did feel too soon for goodbyes. On one hand, he felt like he didn't know Snivy well enough to part ways with him, but on the other hand, he only had two weeks. It felt like he had grown a stronger connection with Snivy than he ever could have initially imagined. Too soon to truly get to know Snivy, and too late to treat him as a simple friend.

"I'm going to miss you," Snivy said.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too." Charmander felt his eyes getting moist. He withdrew from the hug and said, "Do me a favor and take care of the Arashi for me, alright?"

Snivy nodded. "I will if you promise to tell me when you've found out about your past."

"And seriously, keep your knife. I really appreciate the gesture, but it's yours."

Snivy sniffed. "Fine, but don't do anything that will make you regret turning it down in the future."

Charmander smiled. "Deal….Now go get to the Camp before you collapse. I don't think Breloom would be too keen on carrying you."

"Ha! No, it's alright. Like I said, Camp is minutes away," Breloom said with a grin. "You, however, have a bit more distance to cover. The village is another couple of hours from here. If you want to get much sleep, then you'd best get going now."

Charmander shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. I usually stay up late anyway."

"If you insist. Just giving you a warning." He stepped ahead towards the left side of the path. "Snivy, you ready to go?"

Snivy wiped his eyes. "Yup." He gave Charmander one last hug. "So long, Charmander."

"We'll see each other again," Charmander said. "Until then, farewell."

Snivy turned and followed Breloom to the Training Camp.

He watched as they walked away into the darkness. Within seconds, they were gone. It took a while for it hit him. It felt foolishly long before it really sank in. Snivy was his only friend. Snivy was his only connection to this world. Snivy was…all he had. And he just walked away. For the first time in his life, Charmander was completely alone.

That's when he really started to cry.