A/N: Later in the chapter, Grace makes reference to the 'Route 111 desert'. She's referring to the desert terrain in Hoenn, which is on Route 111. (What a surprise… :P). Just clearing up any confusion.

~ Nine ~

Of New Friends and Dense Forests

"Thank you so much for having us. You've been so generous."

Pam waves off my gratitude with one hand. "We've been glad to have you. It's a shame you're leaving so soon."

I smile, sort of regretfully. "As much as we've loved it here–" I kick Zeke's ankle subtly as I sense him about to say something snide or sarcastic. Or both "–we really should be getting on our way."

"Well, you're always welcome here, remember that," Pam says. "I just wish Richard could be here to see you off, too. He told me to pass on his goodbyes, though."

We've hardly seen Jesse's dad in the two days since we crashed their barn. He was out almost all day, every day, doing vet calls to neighbouring farms and villages.

"Please pass on my sincerest gratitude to him, too," I say. "If it weren't for him, my ankle would still be causing me trouble."

"I'll be sure to. Oh!–before I forget." Pam disappears for a moment, re-emerging from the house with plastic containers filled with food. "Take these with you."

My eyes widen. "Pam–"

"Don't give me that," she says in a no-nonsense voice. "You'll need solid meals on the leg between here and Olivine City. It's no walk in the park."

"Thank you," I say, unable to believe she'd go to this much trouble for a couple of strangers. She dumps the containers in my arms and I turn to Zeke. "Open your pack."

"Why am I carrying them all?" he demands indignantly.

"Just do it."

We tuck the treasure away safely, and Zeke hauls his pack back onto his shoulders, muttering under his breath. "Tough guy over here could have used some more padding."

"Okay," Jesse says, ignoring Zeke. "Ready?"

I grin at him. "Ready, Freddy."

Zeke groans. "You people make me sick."

After much discussion this morning, inspired largely by reluctance (on my part) to part ways with our new friend, we'd – and here again, I use 'we' as loosely synonymous for 'I' – decided Jesse would accompany us to Olivine City, acting as a kind of guide.

It works out well for everyone; Zeke and I have less chance of getting lost and dying in the wilderness, and Jesse gets to visit the beach, something he confessed he had a desire to do.

Win-win!

So, with our travelling home back on our shoulders, and newfound company along for the ride, we set off from Applesap Farm, hitting the still-damp dirt road, our (well, at least my) spirits high.

X3

"Lunch time," Zeke declares.

Jesse breaks off mid-sentence, and we look around in surprise.

"It's only eleven o'clock," I say, examining my purple gel watch in confusion.

"So?" Zeke retorts. "I'm hungry. We're taking a break."

"We really should make as much progress as we can," Jesse says, not unreasonably. "It's a long way to Olivine. Unless you're dying of starvation, we should push on for a few more hours at least."

"I said I'm hungry," Zeke repeats flatly, dumping his pack. He throws himself down next to it while I watch on incredulously.

"Zeke–"

"If you've got a problem, Grace, keep it to yourself."

Ouch. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

"Fine," I snap, turning apologetically to Jesse. "Sorry. Looks like we're taking a break."

He shrugs easily, slipping the pack from his shoulders. "No problem. Shep doesn't like being in his Pokéball much; he'll be grateful for the chance to stretch his legs."

This time, I'm ready when Zeke lets Rex out, quickly dodging the blast of water he happily aims at my face.

"Ha!" I exclaim triumphantly, poking out my tongue in victory. Rex hisses indignantly, then sucks in an unnecessarily huge breath, which means he's about to absolutely pummel me with a Water Gun.

"No!" Zeke and Jesse bellow simultaneously, but Rex has already let loose the cannon of water and it hits me squarely in the chest, catapulting me off my feet and into the fence, which groans under the pressure and snaps loudly. I tumble backwards into the field, scraping my cheek on something sharp.

When the assault stops, I just lie there, dazed.

"REX!" Zeke bellows, and this time, he's not amused.

"How can you possibly let him do that?" Jesse's voice demands, enraged. "That thing of yours is a dangerous menace! He could have killed her!"

"Her own Pokémon nearly kills her on a daily basis," Zeke sneers scornfully. "And I didn't let him do that."

"Obviously he's normally allowed to be reckless, otherwise he wouldn't find it so funny right now," Jesse argues. Over their squabbling voices I can hear Rex's hissing laughter.

"Rex, get back in your Pokéball," Zeke finally snaps.

Footsteps crash through the grass, and Jesse's face appears above mine, etched into a frown of anxious concern. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," I moan. But I push myself up nonetheless. Oh, god – killer headache. And my neck hates me.

"Sit still for a second," Jesse advises. "I'll go get some painkillers."

"No, no. I'll be right after a bit – I just need to recover. I'm used to it."

Jesse shakes his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. It's atrocious how he lets it misbehave so much."

"Rex is like Zeke – the spoiled only Pokémon of a wealthy only child," I explain. "It kind of goes without saying."

"It doesn't make it okay, though," Jesse argues. He stares at my dripping hair and sighs. "I'll get you a towel."

He carefully helps me back to the path, which I'm mighty grateful for, because my head is spinning something shocking. I'm not even in the right mind to be able to glare at Zeke, who's watching wordlessly, an unusually guilty sort of expression on his face.

"Grace–"

"Shut up," Jesse says shortly, "And do something useful. Get a fire going so we can heat up some soup for her."

Zeke stalks off stiffly.

Jesse wraps a dry towel around my shoulders and carefully cleans away the blood from my cheek. It stings to the touch and I wince, jerking my face away reflexively.

"Sorry," he says quickly, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. "Almost done."

He carefully bandages the laceration and puts away the first-aid kit.

Then he looks around for Zeke.

I watch his eyes narrow, imagining the insult curling to the tip of his tongue, and, to prevent further conflict between them, say quickly, "I'll go find him."

"No," Jesse protests, as I get up. "You should sit–"

"I'm okay. And it'll be better if I talk to him. Keep an eye on the soup, okay?"

I shove my hands in my pockets, nodding at him firmly as I back away from our makeshift camp. He's obviously unhappy with the proceedings, but he says nothing.

I find Zeke sitting on a log a short adventure from the road, tossing pebbles into a small, trickling stream.

"Hey."

He doesn't look around.

"Are you coming up for lunch?" I ask, and when he still doesn't reply, add, "You're the hungry one, after all."

Finally, I get annoyed with his sulking. "Look, I don't know what your problem is. It's not like you were the one who got smashed into a fence and drenched to the bone – again. Stop sulking like a brat and pull yourself together."

I turn to stomp away, but his voice whips unexpectedly across the field. "I told him not to."

I process this for a moment. "I know. I heard you."

Is that meant to be Zeke-language for 'I'm sorry'?

If so, I don't think I accept his apology. Sorry, pal. No dice.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I look dead?" I retort shortly, then force myself to soften a bit. He actually does sound a little remorseful, which is major progress for Zeke.

I turn around reluctantly. "Don't beat yourself up about it. It was an accident."

Kind of.

"Rex didn't mean it, you know."

I raise one eyebrow. "I can't vouch for him."

"He's just playing," Zeke presses. He tosses another stone into the water with unnecessary ferocity.

I roll my eyes. "It's never seemed like a game to me."

He doesn't look up from the crystal water. It bubbles away quietly over the smooth, flat rocks.

I break the silence. "Well, I'm freezing, and I actually am hungry now, so I'm going to get some food. We do need to keep moving, though, so don't mope about too long."

"I'm not moping," he mutters childishly.

Yep. Sure. "Whatever, Zeke-o-zoid."

"Don't call me that."

I walk a little ways further, then another thought hits me. "I'd appreciate it if you two didn't antagonise each other so much. Jesse's coming with us whether you like it or not, and this trip is sucking enough without you two hating on each other all the time."

"I can't make any promises," he says petulantly. "The guys rubs me the wrong way."

Too bad, Zeke.

"Well, it'd be awesome if we could all make it to Olivine in one piece," I reply. "So if you could take it into consideration, that'd be fantastic."

For once, he doesn't shoot back at my sarcasm. He doesn't say anything at all.

I head back to the road, making excuses for Zeke when Jesse looks up expectantly. He re-joins us eventually, and we dine in complete silence.

But I catch them shooting each other dark glares over the pot of soup when they think I'm not looking, and I sigh inwardly.

This is going to be a long, difficult journey.

X3

By nightfall, we've reached a dense pine forest.

"Great," I groan. "More spooky woods."

I tell Jesse the Stantler story as we set up camp in a clearing on the edge of the trees. We erect the tents – mine and Zeke's, and Jesse's little swag – and collect firewood. While we chat away over dinner preparations, Zeke sits off by himself, his nose buried in a novel I didn't even know he'd packed.

Zeke's never struck me as a book worm.

Dinner is a delicious stew of Pam's – potato, carrot, peas and tender Mareep meat. We wash up in a nearby stream.

"Let's play a game," Jesse says, handing me a plastic bowl.

"What kind of game?"

"A knowledge game."

"Like trivia?" I ask hesitantly. "I suck at trivia."

Jesse laughs. "No, a game where you learn stuff."

"Like twenty questions?"

He grins. "Sounds fun, right?"

"Sure," I reply, drying the bowl. "You go first."

"Rules first," he says. "We both have to answer the same questions. Makes it more interesting."

I shrug. "Okay. I'm down with that. Ask away."

"Alright." He puts down the sponge. "Let's start with something easy. Like… what's your favourite colour?"

I raise my eyebrow. "That is easy. Fine. Um… green."

"Green?"

"Or purple," I add, thinking about it.

"You only get one," he says.

"Fine. I'll stick with green."

"Why?"

"Does that count as a question?"

"I'm going to say no. It's an extension of a question, therefore it doesn't count."

"Okay. In that case, I like green because it brings out my eyes," I say, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically.

He laughs.

"What's yours?" I ask.

"Blue," he replies. "Something about it makes me calm."

"Well, it is the colour of serenity," I reply knowledgably.

He gives me a funny look of surprise, and my cheeks warm. "What? I like my horoscopes and stuff."

"I'm not judging you."

"If anyone cares," Zeke interrupts flatly, startling the living daylights out of me, "my favourite colour's black. And everything's packed up."

"Black isn't a colour," I reply, pulling a face. "It's a shade."

"Whatever," he says dismissively, and walks away.

"Next question," Jesse says. "What's your favourite food?"

"Too broad," I complain. "Do you mean favourite cuisine – like Italian or Chinese? Or favourite meal?"

"If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?" he amends.

"Cake," I reply instantly.

"Cake?" he deadpans.

"Not judging, remember?" I point out.

Jesse grins. "Not judging. Mine is lasagne."

"A classic," I agree.

"Nothing beats a good, home-made lasagne," Jesse replies.

"Home-cooked meals in general tend to be winners."

I stand from the stream, the chore completed, and wipe my hands on my jeans. "I've got a question."

"Go ahead," Jesse replies, stacking the dry dishes.

"What's your favourite Type of Pokémon?"

"Fire," Jesse says instantly. "They're powerful, reliable, and loyal. Yours?"

"Uh… cute ones?" I offer sheepishly.

He laughs. "Anything you can hug, right?"

"That's pretty much the defining factor," I agree amiably. "But honestly, I haven't ever really thought about it that much. They're all unique, and it's not like I've really had enough to do with Pokémon yet."

"You're pretty new to Pokémon, aren't you?" Jesse speculates.

My cheeks warm. "Is this a separate question?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he adds hastily. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No, it's okay," I reply with a sigh. "I'm a total Pokémon noob. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I didn't have anything to do with them. Ever."

"Just never crossed paths?" Jesse guesses.

I shake my head. "My dad's not a Pokémon person. I never pushed the boundaries. I was an obedient little girl."

He smiles. "It's unfortunate that your first Pokémon is one that happens to have a particularly difficult nature."

"You're telling me. It's kind of putting me off the whole Pokémon thing. Just a little bit. Especially since I don't like battling, and all."

"Stick it out," Jesse advises. "It'll get better. You'll see."

I'm doubtful. "I suppose."

But I'd like to believe him, so I let his optimism infect me.

At least for the rest of the night.

X3

"Question four," Jesse says, as we trample through the undergrowth. Light filters down through the canopy of trees, dappling the grassy path. "What's your favourite season?"

Several particularly determined raindrops patter against my japara hood, somehow fighting their way through the almost impenetrable treetop roof. "Definitely not winter."

He laughs.

Up ahead, Zeke walks alone, reminding me somehow of an outlaw. He's got a sturdy stick in his hand, and is doing an admirable job of pretending Jesse and I aren't here.

"I think fall is my favourite," I decide. "It's not too hot, not too cold, and the leaves are stunning. But I also love summer."

"Summer's my favourite," Jesse agrees. "Probably only because we rarely experience it. I think it's a case of the whole 'grass-is-greener' thing."

I nod. "Makes sense. I used to think winter would be amazing because of the snow. It never snows in Goldenrod City. But one day, I went with dad to the mountains, and it was awful – it was wet, and cold, and blizzardy, and I hated it. I was so disappointed."

"Crushed your dreams, eh?" Jesse laughs.

I laugh, too. He's not wrong, though. "Kind of, actually."

We march on for a few minutes. The ground is mossy and slippery underfoot; I have to be careful to watch where I step.

"I have another question," I pipe up eventually. "What was school like for you?"

"Well," Jesse begins. "There's an elementary school in the nearest village, but no high school. The nearest one was an hour and a half away by intermittent bus. So I was home-schooled after sixth grade."

Well that was unexpected. "No kidding."

He shrugs. "Dad was a pretty good teacher, actually. He loves history and geography. And biology, of course."

I nod. But it hits me that Jesse probably didn't have a lot of friends growing up, if he spent all his time at the farm.

I relish in this small similarity we share.

"I'll confess, though," Jesse adds, "I never finished junior year."

I look at him, surprised. "Why not?"

He shrugs. "Didn't need to. You don't exactly need a solid education to work on a farm."

For some reason, I find this kind of sad – like he's going to spend his whole life in his little farmyard corner of the world, and never experience any of the other wonders it has to offer. To me, that's not really living.

But who am I to judge?

I walk on for a bit, lost in my thoughts.

"What about you?" Jesse asks. "What was your high school like?"

I laugh shortly. "I don't know. I didn't even go to the first day."

He glances at me with wide eyes. "You dropped out?"

"Not quite," I reply. "I was pulled out by my dad, right before semester began. He claims I'll go back next year, but…" I shrug. "Anyway, here I am today."

I grin at his astonished expression. "You thought I was older, huh?"

Jesse reddens. "I'm a little surprised," he confesses. "I thought you were at least a sophomore."

"I'll take it as a compliment," I assure him, patting his arm. "Don't feel too embarrassed."

Zeke chooses now to add his snarky two bits' worth over his shoulder. "Funny how young she is, isn't it?"

Jesse wisely opts not to reply.

"The high school I was enrolled in," I continue, "is really fancy, though. It's an extension of my middle school, which was this really prestigious and competitive all-girls 'institution of excellence'." I snort distastefully. "I hated it. The girls were really snobby and bratty."

"She only hated it because she had no friends," Zeke calls nastily over his shoulder.

Yes, thanks for that, jerk.

I blush furiously.

"I didn't want to be friends with people like them, anyway," I retort. "They were all superficial and mean."

"Sounds like a great place," Jesse remarks sarcastically.

I roll my eyes. "Oh yeah. Wonderful – if you're willing to sacrifice the freedom of individuality. And your conscience."

The forest gets thicker and thicker, until we're forced to walk single file through the dense trees. The moss grows thicker underfoot, and several times I trip, almost taking Jesse down with me. We climb over massive boulders and under decaying, fallen logs, sometimes getting hooked on low-hanging branches that claw at our faces.

It's a real challenge, especially considering the whole route is a gradual uphill climb, and my pack is trying very hard to pull me the other way.

Clearly, it's on good terms with gravity, and obviously they're conspiring against me.

We stop for a late lunch – late because we have absolutely no sense of time in the eternal dimness of the forest, and end up completely missing midday – and rest on a mossy, damp log.

I'm so thankful for my waterproof japara and pants.

Seriously. Who cares about fashion when you're wandering in the death-trap wilderness?

"I'm so tired," I complain. "And I'm sick of this stupid uphill hike."

"Well, it's not going to flatten out any time soon," Zeke replies. "So you may as well get used to it."

"It's already three o'clock," Jesse comments, concerned. "I'm worried about where we're going to camp tonight."

"We'll just have to make do," I reply unhappily. "Even if we have to sleep on a slope."

"Better than sleeping out in this," Zeke mutters, shuddering almost imperceptively as he glances warily around. The trees are tall and extremely dense, spreading away in all directions as far as the eye can see. It gives the forest the feeling of eternity, which is kind of frightening.

And Zeke's right, for once. This place is damn spooky. It doesn't help that the slow, ever-present tendrils of white fog misting between the treetops remind me of the Stantler attack.

"Come on," Jesse says, his voice low and serious. "Let's keep moving."

Conversation is rare as the darkness gradually settles in. We hike as far as we can before nightfall forces us to stop, and we struggle to find enough room to put up the tents.

We get them up eventually, and no-one even cracks a joke about how lopsided and awkward they look, mashed between the trees.

None of us are hungry after our late meal, so we part ways for the evening and retreat to the flimsy safety of our tents. The temperature drops sharply, and it takes three sweaters and two pairs of sweatpants before I can warm up enough in my sleeping bag to drift into uneasy sleep.

For once, I'm grateful for Zeke's gentle snoring. I don't think I'd have gotten through the night alone.

X3

I'm awake at first light, and I waste no time getting up and starting breakfast.

Jesse's already up and about when I struggle from the tent, and he greets me with a tight-lipped smile. Clearly, I'm not the only one feeling the tension.

We poach eggs in a tin pan over the fire, and the smells and sounds rouse Zeke. We breakfast in silence, pack up efficiently, and push on.

By the end of the day, I'm utterly exhausted. We deliberately took fewer breaks to maximise the amount of distance we could cover, and as a result my calves and thighs are shuddering with overexertion.

I think I can honestly say I've never walked so far in one day.

I'm dreading tomorrow.

In a strange way, it feels like time passed both quickly and slowly today. Nobody spoke at all, and the terrain barely changed, so it doesn't seem like we've actually made any progress at all. At the same time, my body feels like it's walked across half the country.

It's extremely disconcerting, and insanely frustrating.

And it majorly sucks that we're stuck in this stupid forest another night.

X3

In the middle of the night, we experience the most exciting thing to happen in two days.

For starters, I awaken suddenly from sleep, for apparently no good reason. The night is still and silent around me, which is creepy as hell, and my breath fogs inside the tent.

Which means it's damn cold.

I lie frozen for some reason, like my brain is instinctively aware of danger, though there's absolutely nothing to suggest something bad's about to happen.

Then there's a noise. Barely perceptive, but I catch it.

A quiet kind of shuffle, just once.

Every muscle in my body stiffens. Including my tongue, which I eventually successfully unstick from the roof my mouth.

I've just managed to convince myself my brain is playing tricks on me in my paranoia, and am on the verge of rearranging my sleeping bag and attempting sleep again, when a series of snuffling noises ring sharply in the night, close by. Very close by.

I scream.

Zeke's awake in an instant. "What? What?"

I'm sitting bolt upright now, and whatever it is I heard is now making alarmed noises.

"There'ssomethinginthetent!"

"What? Grace – you're making no sen–"

"THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE TENT!"

"What?"

I'm shrieking and wailing like a madwoman, but my conviction is even stronger now that I can make out a shadowy thing in the corner, near Zeke's feet.

I'm absolutely petrified with fear.

"Get it out!" I scream. "Get it out! Get it out, get it out, get it out!"

"Grace, stop screaming!" Zeke bellows, rummaging around loudly. The thing yelps again, and – holy mother of god, now it's moving.

"It's moving! Zeke, it's moving!"

I'm sobbing uncontrollably, kicking my feet in terror as the shadow scarpers over to my side of the tent. I think I'm about to scream myself silly. Any second now, the terror's going to seize my brain and I'm going to pass out, like I did in the Stantler forest.

Already the fingers of dizziness are curling around the edges of my consciousness.

"Grace, calm down!" Zeke cries desperately.

A flashlight blinds the tent, and through my tears I make out the brown body and round-eared head of a small, bear-like Pokémon at my feet.

I scream into its face.

It screams right back.

Jesse's voice is shouting outside, but in my current state I have absolutely no idea what he's saying. It's like I don't understand my own language anymore.

Zeke manages to chase the thing outside somehow. The sounds of a skirmish follow, and for a few minutes, all I can hear is footsteps crashing through the undergrowth, voices shouting, Shepherd's protective growls, and the mangled cries of the alarmed infiltrator.

Then there's silence.

Jesse suddenly scrambles into the tent. "Grace!"

He crawls over to where I'm still rigid with terror, and pushes the hair from my face with gentle fingers. "You're okay – you're safe now. Relax."

Several stubborn strands have stuck to the rivers of tears that have dried on my cheeks. He brushes at them carefully. "Zeke caught it. It can't hurt you. It's gone."

I find my voice – it's thin and watery. "Zeke caught it?"

Jesse nods. "Yep."

I sigh, long and tired, the tension slowly releasing from my muscles. Jesse, sensing the panic flooding from the atmosphere, sits back and reaches out to give my hair a soft ruffle.

Behind him, Zeke's furious face appears through the tent flap. "Get out of the tent, Applesap!"

I glance at him, indignant. "Zeke!"

"I mean it!" he growls. "Out – now! This is our tent – you have no right to be in here!"

"Zeke, stop it–"

"No, it's fine," Jess interrupts gently, glancing at Zeke, who's seething. "He's right – this is an invasion of privacy."

"Damn right it is!" Zeke snaps.

"I don't mind, really," I say apologetically. Seriously. What crawled into Zeke's heart and died? Jesse's only being nice.

"No, no," Jesse replies, smiling at me reassuringly. He crawls backwards toward the tent flap.

"Jess," I say, before he disappears. He pauses for a moment. I give him a weak smile."Thanks."

He smiles back. "'Night, Grace."

There's a few moments' silence after he leaves before Zeke whips open the flap and stomp-crawls in, zipping it tightly shut furiously.

"Zeke…"

He says nothing, pointedly ignoring me.

Well. What the heck did I do wrong?

Oh, whatever.

"I hope it's nearly dawn; there's no way I'm getting back to sleep tonight."

"It's only two o'clock," Zeke snaps, sort of smugly, like this brings him personal satisfaction. Tool.

I heave a huge sigh. "Fabulous."

Thick silence fills the tent.

I decide to try once more. "So, you caught that thing, huh?"

"Yep," Zeke says shortly.

Fine. If he doesn't want to talk, I won't push him. Moody buttface.

I roll over in my sleeping bag, pretending he's not there and fuming into my pillow. But it's not until his soft snores resume that I'm able to fall asleep again.

X3

"Ursa!"

We stare down at it, all three of us silent.

The little Pokémon stares back with inoffensive black eyes, as round as its enormous brown ears. It sniffs the air tentatively with its stubby little nose, the oversized crescent-moon shaped mark on its forehead glowing faintly.

"Ursa!"

Without warning, it rocks up onto its hind paws and sniffs again, closing its eyes.

"Tell me again why you caught it," I say dubiously. In the bright dawn of morning, I'm feeling pretty silly about being so terrified of this thing last night. It's not exactly the scariest Pokémon I've ever seen.

Beside me, Zeke cocks his head to one side, as if he's not quite sure himself. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. Guess I wasn't really thinking ahead."

"What are you going to do with it?" I ask skeptically.

He shrugs. "Bring it along."

"Do you even know what it is?" Jesse asks, the lightest trace of a sneer in his voice.

"Of course I know what it is," Zeke scoffs scornfully. "It's a Pokémon."

"It's a Teddiursa," Jesse corrects smugly.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "Duh."

"It's kind of cute," I comment, watching the Teddiursa lick its paw. Before either of the other two can protest, I get down on my knees before it. It looks around sharply, eyeing me warily.

"Hey there, little gu–ow!"

"Grace!" Zeke and Jesse exclaim in unison.

I reflexively retract my arm from my attempt to pat it, nursing it gingerly and bestowing upon the Teddiursa a wounded look of confusion. "It scratched me!"

"Well, of course it did, doofus," Zeke snaps impatiently. "It's not domesticated yet. Just because it's captured doesn't automatically make it friendly – it's still technically a wild Pokémon."

"Here," Jesse says. "Let me clean the wound."

I plonk myself on a tree stump away from the Teddiursa and let him fiddle with the three long gashes running almost the full length of forearm, shooting the tiny bear Pokémon intermittent offended looks.

"He got you good, didn't he?" Jesse comments, brushing the scratches lightly with gentle fingertips.

I try not to flinch. "I don't understand – I wasn't going to hurt him."

"He doesn't know that," Jesse points out. "For all he knew, you were about to pounce on him and throw him in a pot over the fire."

I raise one eyebrow. "Nursery rhyme, much?"

Jesse grins boyishly. "I was inspired by Hansel and Gretel."

"How do you know it's a boy Teddiursa, anyway?" I ask. "I think it looks kind of like a girl."

"No, it's definitely a boy," Jesse argues firmly. "I'm getting some serious male juju."

"Do you even believe in juju?" I ask skeptically.

He grins. "Not really."

He wraps my arm in gauze and dusts imaginary dirt from his hands. "Done."

I bat my eyelashes at him. "Thank you, doctor."

Jesse rolls his eyes. "Just don't do it again."

Noise from the campsite distracts me, and I look around Jesse's shoulder. Zeke has called Rex out, and the water dinosaur is examining Teddiursa curiously.

Teddiursa is on the defence, his muscles tensed up, his short fur bristled. He keeps a wary eye trained sharply on Rex as he scarpers in a circle around him.

Then Rex snaps his jaws once, and shoots a jet of water straight into Teddiursa's face.

I wince sympathetically.

"Ursa!" Teddiursa shouts indignantly, and, with unexpected agility, breaks free of the water barrage and leaps at Rex, lashing at him with swiping paws.

A fierce, fast-paced battle ensues.

"Zeke, what the hell did you do?" I snap, horrified, as the two Pokémon rip at each other.

Zeke looks mystified. "Nothing… I just wanted to see how Rex'd react…"

"What are they doing?" I wail, as Teddiursa manages to claw Rex's hide, drawing blood. Rex whips around sharply, clamping his solid jaw down on the little bear-Pokémon's shoulder in retaliation.

Oh, god. Their anguished cries are more than I can bear.

"Stop them!" I shriek. "Zeke, recall them! Hurry!"

"Rex!" Zeke shouts. "Enough!"

They ignore him.

"Zeke!" I push shrilly.

"Guys, stop it!" he bellows, to absolutely no response. His calls are falling on deaf ears. Finally, he growls, reaching into his pocket for their Pokéballs. "Rex! Uh… bear-thing! Return!"

The sounds of their cutthroat squabbling echoes through the trees long after they've disappeared.

Zeke and I stare at each other.

"What the hell just happened?" I demand, shaken.

We look to Jesse, who up 'til now has been our unofficial, walking Pokénoob encyclopaedia.

But this time he looks just as astonished, and sort of half-shrugs apologetically.

I have absolutely no idea what to say to Zeke.

So I don't say anything.

"Come on," Jess says eventually. "Let's keep moving. Just keep them in their Pokéballs for now."

X3

The slope is getting steeper and steeper, and I'm starting to spot patches of frost on the moss-covered earth.

This is not a good sign.

We stop for lunch, short of breath and flushed of cheek, and drop our packs. My breath billows like a cloud of steam from my lips.

"You should put another layer on, Grace," Jess advises, rummaging in his bag for some food.

"But I'm not cold," I reply.

Far from it, actually. The constant exercise means despite the chilly temperature, my skin is sticky and sweaty under my japara.

It's pretty gross.

"You're not cold now," Jesse says, "because you're exercising. You're just tricking your body into thinking it's hot. But the moment we stop, you'll freeze."

I seriously doubt it. I feel like the damn Route 111 desert right now.

I'm willing to prove him wrong in this particular, rare instance.

I pretend I didn't hear him.

"Shep!" Jess calls, and a second later the Growlithe is shaking out its fluffy vanilla mane.

We get a fire going – thanks to our reliable source of ignition (aka: Shepherd) – and heat up the last of Pam's soup, which, while delicious, I'm admittedly getting a little sick of.

I don the pair of heavy-duty gloves I borrowed from Applesap Farm and release El Scorchio.

He stretches his neck, snorts fire from his nose in a silent BACK-OFF warning to anyone who might have considered approaching him, and resumes his slow getaway, which doesn't alarm me today, since the clustered trees and logs provide an obstacle course that will make his escape even slower than usual.

But I'm a little happy – he's looking better than he did the past few days. His vengeful spark is gradually returning; each time I bring him out for a meal he looks slightly more hateful than before, which I take as a positive sign of his recovery.

I empty a small amount of home-made Pokémon food produced on Applesap Farm into a bowl and, with a groan, haul myself up from the slick rock I'm perching on.

"Here," I say, catching him up and quickly dropping the bowl nearby. Several bite-sized pieces bounce out onto the moss. "Lunch, if you want it."

I scuttle away before he can set my precious japara on fire.

Zeke and Jess are locked in discussion when I get back to the pit stop.

"I wouldn't," Jesse's saying seriously. Zeke appears to sneer at this.

"What's going on, guys?" I interrupt lightly, sliding my hands in my pockets.

Jesse glances at Zeke.

Zeke glares under his lashes when he looks away.

"We're just debating the best method for Zeke to feed his Pokémon," Jesse explains, with deliberate eloquence.

"I see," I say, plonking myself back down on my rock. "What's the verdict?"

"Jury's still out," Zeke replies shortly.

"I think he should feed them on opposite sides of the clearing," Jesse says, stirring his bowl of steaming soup.

"Won't they just attack each other when they're done?" I ask doubtfully.

"That's the problem, genius," Zeke snaps.

"So feed them individually, genius," I retort sassily.

"We don't have that much time, genius," Zeke shoots back snidely.

Boy, is he in a bad mood today.

He's even more annoyingly bratty than usual.

"Don't be stupid," I snap impatiently. "Jess and I'll make sure we eat exceptionally slowly so you have time to feed them both. Go on. Feed Rex first."

Zeke rolls his eyes, scowling. But he complies, surprisingly.

The path only grows steeper throughout the afternoon. My calves burn with each step, my breath hitching sharply in my chest. The frigid, damp air is difficult to inhale and almost painfully cold in my lungs.

In short, it's not very fun.

About an hour into our afternoon leg, even the exercise isn't enough to keep me warm. I hold out for as long as possible, trying to preserve my pride's dignity, before eventually caving and asking the boys to stop so I can pull on another sweater.

Jesse's twinkle-eyed smirk is almost more insufferable than Zeke's.

If that's even possible.

Finally, with dusk settling over the sky like particles of Sleep Powder, we come to a halt. Unfortunately, we're in a difficult and extremely awkward location; the ground is mighty uneven, and the trees are even too thick for Jess' swag.

So there's no hope for the tent.

We stand around in dismay, the light fading slowly around us.

"Now what?" I say eventually, the first brave soul to man up and face the problem.

Jesse lets out a long sigh. "I don't know. We're in trouble tonight."

Zeke curses under his breath and kicks a boulder white with frost. His foot slips on the slick surface and, with a yelp, he goes down backwards.

The whole thing would be hilarious if he didn't yell in pain.

It's a sound I quickly realise I never want to hear again; my heart jerks in alarm. "Are you okay?"

I hurry to his side, but he slaps my worried hands away as I try to help him up. "Lay off, Grace! I'm fine. I don't need your help."

I know he's only snapping at me because his pride is seriously wounded, but, considering he's just given me a miniature heart attack, I'm pretty offended.

I mean, I'm only trying to help. Jerk.

"Fine," I mutter crossly. I drop my pack carelessly and stomp irritably into the trees.

"Grace!" Jess calls in alarm. "Where are you going? It's dangerous!"

"I'm going to find flatter ground," I snap over my shoulder.

"Don't be stupid–" Zeke begins, but I cut him off.

"Lay off, Zeke. I can take care of myself."

Okay, so it's kind of a lie. But it felt good using his words against him.

I know I've pulled the whole stomp-off-into-the-woods thing before, with less than satisfactory results, but I seriously think this might be one of my stupidest decisions yet.

Within minutes, it's completely dark.

I mean pitch-black.

And, of course, I didn't bring my flashlight, like the glorious idiot I am.

It's all I can do to make out the trees right in front of me. And I'm breathing smoky ice-cold fog, which just makes things that much creepier. My cell's in my pocket, but its battery has been flat since yesterday.

Seventy-two-hour battery life my ass.

The manual lied to me – I could die out here, and it would be all false advertisement's fault.

I wonder idly how much my death could sue for.

I stumble several times, my feet catching on roots and slippery branches, and at one point I fall on something sharp that snaps under my hand – probably a stick. Whatever it is lances my palm, and I yelp sharply in pain.

For a second I sit where I've fallen, nursing my newest wound and feeling sorry for myself.

Then I get up. After all, sitting around in the middle of a scary-ass forest doing absolutely nothing about my predicament won't produce results.

And even though bad results would be less than satisfactory right now, they'd still be better than no results.

But tonight, as it turns out, I'm not destined for bad results.

In fact, luck seems to be on my side for once; I crest a particularly steep hill and it plateaus unexpectedly. I find myself standing before a tiny log cabin.

At first, my joy is overwhelming.

Then I realise that finding the cabin is only fortunate if it isn't home to a psychotic forest-dwelling serial killer.

Oh, seriously, Grace. Stop watching TV. Just stop.

It takes me about five minutes to get over my ridiculous anxiety and actually march up to knock on the door.

Silence.

"Hello?" I call bravely.

I can't help noting how much I sound like the little lamb heroine of a gory horror movie. Cue aforementioned psychotic forest-dwelling serial killer, creeping up behind me with an axe.

Jeepers, now I have to turn around to make sure he's not there.

But I don't actually want to know if he's there – I'd rather not look torturous, graphic death in the face.

Come on, Grace. Man up, and turn around.

I swivel slowly on my heel, my eyes tightly shut.

Open them, Grace. Three, two–

"Grace!"

I scream.

And I mean an at-the-top-of-my-lungs, horror-film, blood-curdling shriek.

"Holy mother of God!" Zeke roars, stumbling over his feet as he scrambles away from me reflexively.

I gasp for breath, my heart racing. "Don't do that! Jesus Christ, Zeke!"

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he snaps, infuriated, one hand over his heart.

"I didn't know you were there," I whimper, still lightheaded from shock.

"It's not like I tiptoed up here," he retorts. He sighs shakily, drawing one hand over his face. "Far out. Well, at least your lungs work. Could have used them to let us know where you were."

"I was getting to it."

I can't see his face in the dark, but I think he's scowling at me.

"At least you found a cabin," he mutters. "Is anyone inside?"

"Not that I can tell."

"Did you knock?"

"How stupid do you think I am?" I retort, then add hastily, "Don't answer that."

I can hear him smirking. Stupid jerk.

Zeke strolls forward casually, twigs snapping underfoot, and raps smartly against the door.

Still nothing.

This is a good sign.

"Where's Jess?" I ask, as he tries the handle.

"He was behind me," Zeke replies dismissively.

Panic stabs my stomach. "You mean, he could be lost out there somewhere – alone?"

"Relax," he replies lazily. "He didn't stray far from the packs. And there's a fire going anyway; he'll find his way back."

"Do you know the way back?" I ask shortly, following as he steps into the dark interior.

"Nope."

"Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not laughing, am I?"

"Zeke!"

"I was following your Mamoswine footsteps," Zeke snaps defensively. "I'm assuming you know your way back, then?"

I fall silent, flushing in the dark.

"Yeah," Zeke says smartly. "Didn't think so. Pot calling the kettle black, much?"

"I get it," I snap shortly. "Shut up now."

We're quiet for a moment, while Zeke potters around in the dark, checking the cabin out.

"Coast's clear," he says finally. "We're kind of in luck."

"Kind of?" I inquire doubtfully.

"There's no fridge."

"So, no food." On cue, my stomach rumbles.

"Very good, Grace – in fact, that might just warrant a gold star."

Oh, he's seriously grating on my nerves right now.

"Would you just shut up?" I snap, close to blowing my top. "I'm really not in the mood for this right now."

"On a positive note," Zeke says pleasantly, obediently dropping his wise-ass act. "There's a bed."

"A bed?"

"A bed."

Wonderful.

"You can have it."

"Well, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me," Zeke replies. "But thanks."

"You're a jerk."

"Hey, don't turn around and complain now – you offered it up."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to–I mean, seriously–just–pshargh!" I throw my hands up in frustration and turn for the door. "I'm going to find Jess. Goodnight, Zeke."

"Grace," he says hastily, as I march off, fuming. Without warning, he shifts and grabs my arm. "Come on – don't be an idiot. You've already gotten lost once, and you got lucky when I found you. Somehow, I can't imagine you'll be so fortunate again."

"If this is fortunate–" I shrug him off childishly "–I think I'll take my chances."

"I was just teasing," he says, sighing. "You don't seriously think I'd hog the bed? We can share."

"Fantastic," I grumble. "Just what I've always wanted."

"Oh, grow up," he says shortly. "There's a cupboard in the corner. It probably has blankets. I suggest you shut the door. Unless you want to die of hypothermia. I, for one, would rather avoid untimely demise. I've always imagined my death to be slightly more glamorous."

I stomp over to the door and slam it shut.

"Is your cell working?" I snap.

"Nope. Useless thing died this morning."

I sigh. "Mine, too. How are we supposed to let Jess know we're okay?"

"We'll just have to trust he's smart enough to stay by the fire and assume we're okay," Zeke replies. "I personally don't know – it's a bit of a stretch, for Jesse."

"Leave him alone," I growl.

"Protective of him, aren't we?" Zeke sneers, unfolding what sounds like something material with a whipping flourish.

"No," I retort hotly.

"Really?" He sounds both sarcastic and doubtful.

I reluctantly join his dark form by the square-shaped shadow I correctly assume is the bed. "Pass me a blanket."

Something heavy and soft collides with my face with a fwump. "Ow!"

"Sorry," Zeke replies.

"That was unnecessary," I snap, my eyes smarting. My nose stings painfully from the blow.

"It was also unintentional," he replies. "Swear."

Without warning, my poor nose cracks it; I sneeze spectacularly.

"Graceful," Zeke comments sarcastically.

I ignore him, focusing my anger instead on fluffing out the blanket. Removing my hiking boots, I peel off my damp japara, spreading it out on the floor so it can attempt to dry. With the impenetrable overnight chill, however, I'm not expecting much.

I stub my toe painfully on the bed, cursing under my breath, and crawl across the mattress.

Thank god there even is one; if there hadn't been, I probably would have opted for the floor over the solid wooden bed frame, though neither is particularly ideal.

I curl up under the scratchy blanket, my knees drawn up and brushing the wall. The mattress creaks as Zeke joins me, and we're both silent as he makes himself as comfortable as possible on his half of the single-bed mattress.

Then he lies still, his back pressed against mine.

Good god, this is awkward as hell.

"Are you warm enough?" Zeke asks stiffly.

"I'm fine," I reply.

Another thick silence.

"Are you?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Cool," I say awkwardly.

The bed creaks again as Zeke shifts around a bit.

After another intensely uncomfortable silence, I say, "Goodnight, Zeke."

"'Night, Grace."

Boy, are we in for a long night.