A group of goldpanners, one shy of a half dozen, home for lunch after their morning labor, traded small talk at the Trough. The Trough was a worn, rusty little shack near the center of Boomtown surrounded by rickety, splintering picnic tables. It was the only place in town where the townsfolk could get together for meals since the Pokémon Center only served trainers. The owner was a codgery old man who either couldn't or wouldn't tell you his name. Most people just called him Cook. He had no sense of personal space and did not take kindly to criticism, and his definition of criticism was broad. Nobody really liked him, but he could turn lean game and sour berries into something appealing, so everyone put on happy faces at meal times lest he raise prices or outright refuse service. It had happened before with passing foreigners, but they usually left town after a few days and he would start cooking again. No one wanted to see what would happen if a local irked him.

The five men and women were seated around one of the larger, sturdier tables waiting for their food. It was never a good idea to rush Cook. He fancied himself an artist, insisting that "perfection takes patience." Impatient customers often found their meals undercooked if they were lucky enough to get a meal at all. Most customers at the Trough were pretty patient, though. They had to be to do the work they did. They were also coworkers and neighbors, so there was usually something to talk about to kill time. The latest talk around town had something to do with Lawrence Digsby and Officer Jenny. The story had gone through a number of people at this point, so it had spawned a few different rumors. The conversation at the table was dominated by a debate over which iteration of the rumor was true.

"I tell you, she was covered in blood, cut to ribbons, an' Digsby was beaten so senseless he had to drag her all the way," one man insisted. "Must be the Ursaring are makin' a comeback."

"Where do you get that nonsense, Ernest?" a man with sideburns scoffed, taking off his hat to scratch his head. "First off, I saw Digsby carry her in the Center, not a drop of blood in sight, and second you know there ain't a Ursaring nest left to come back from after what Donyoku did."

"That's just what the big man wants us to think," said Ernest, shaking his head. The look on his face said 'you should know better.' "He's breeding them somewhere, and eventually they're gonna be strong enough to wipe us off the map."

Everyone groaned. Nobody liked Donyoku, and it was no secret that the businessman wanted Boomtown gone. Ernest was more creative than most when it came to suspicion and supposition, and he was keen to share his theories. He had trouble finding people who wanted to listen, though.

"Are we even on any map, Ernest?" one woman asked with a smirk.

"Yes!" he said indignantly, shaking the table as he jumped to his feet. "We're on the Gym circuit, the-"

"Sit down! She's just messing with you," said an older woman.

"What are sisters for?"

"You oughtn't to take her so seriously," a small man grumbled. "It's not as if you take anything else seriously.
Ernest muttered something under his breath, but it was drowned out by Cook.

"Soups on!" The obnoxious old man squawked. He kicked open the door to his shack and teetered his way over to the tables, balancing an assortment of dented trays filled to the brim with food and drink. He swayed violently with every step, but no one got up to help him. If they tried he would probably take it as an insult and dump their food deliberately. Cook claimed that he had "discovered the secret to perfect balance" while traveling across Hoenn. No one had believed him at first, but in all his years in Boomtown not a single person had seen him fall. He staggered over to the table and set the trays down with a resounding clang. He hovered over his customers, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Lunch time, boys and girls!" He shouted, looking to strike up a conversation. His customers ignored him, focused more on sorting out whose food was whose. The old man stroked his long white beard, tottered around the table, and blurted out, "Find any nuggets down stream?"

Still he was ignored, but his customer's false smiles faltered. Clark, the man with the sideburns, shook his head. Cook frowned, beginning to think he wouldn't get anyone talking until he remembered Ernest.

"Hear the latest gossip?" the old man shouted, leaning across the table.

Ernest was surprisingly unresponsive. His sister, Terry-Ruth, said, "You're too late, Cook. Ernie's already taken a scolding for talkin' nonsense about Jenny and Digsby."

Cook just shook his head and smiled. "No, I'm talking about that strange fellow walking around town. Trying to recruit folks for some such or other."

Ernest sat up straight, eyes wide. "You don't think it could be a Pioneer scout, do you?"

A round of groans passed between his customers; Fran, the older woman, spat up her Oran juice; and Henry, the short man, choked on his meal. Cook knew he'd struck gold.

"The Pioneers are dead," the short man growled, sending flecks of egg and biscuit flying. "Donyoku and the League made sure of that. Don't you go getting any ideas, now."

A few seconds was all Ernest needed to think up an elaborate conspiracy theory. Before he could share, a mass of brown feathers swooped down at the table. The startled miners leapt back, sending food, drink, and trays clattering to the ground. The Fearow scooped up whatever it could get with its claws and beak and took off. It wasn't fast enough to escape Cook's wrath, though.

The old man spun away from the mess at the table and tossed out a Pokéball.

"Spinda! Psybeam that thievin' bird." He was furious. Nobody ruined his masterpieces. Nobody!

The cream and orange Pokémon seemed to stumble out of its ball. It sent a beam of psychic energy at the retreating bird. The bird dropped like a stone, too confused to fly straight. It flapped its wings wildly in an attempt to regain some altitude to no avail.

The short man and the younger woman got to their feet, calling on a shaggy old Tauros with a greying mane and a bright green Politoed respectively.

"Crush that Fearow with a body slam!" Cook shouted, teetering back and forth in time with his Pokémon. "Then soak it with a hydro pump!"

"I'll give my own orders, thank you," the short man huffed. "Tauros, horn attack."

"Hydro pump makes sense," Terry-Ruth said grinning. "Say, Cook, you know any good recipes for Fearow?"

"I reckon so," the old man said, stroking his beard.

Spinda socked the flying type with a dizzy punch, knocking a half-eaten sandwich from its beak. It tried to fight back by pecking, but only managed to jam its beak into the ground. The Spinda danced away just as Tauros' shadow loomed over Fearow. The big brown Pokémon hit hard, skewering a wing and forcing a squawk from the bird's beak. Politoed launched its attack, sending the battered bird flying off Tauros' horns.

While the water was painful, it shocked Fearow out of his confusion and put some distance between him and the humans. With the wind under his wings again, he flew as fast as he could. Another stream of water grazed his tail feathers, and he saw a psybeam cut through the hydro pump close behind. He flew higher until the shouts beneath him were distant whispers.

"You try to steal my lunch again, you're gonna be lunch, ya hear?"

Fearow knew it was a bad idea to try taking food from the humans. They hoarded it like Rattata and guarded it with the ferocity of a mother Ursaring protecting her cub. The danger was outweighed by desperation. Food was scarce lately. The forest seemed thinner every day, and fresh berries were hard to come by. He'd been searching for days without luck. He could only hope that what he gripped in his claws would suffice for another week.

The wind under his wings, usually a comfort, now only reminded him of his soreness. His head ached from the psybeam, and his wing stung where the Tauros left its mark. The water on his feathers made his wings feel heavy. To top it all off, his throat still burned from his latest run-in with that tricky yellow flower. When he could find no berries or tree sprouts suitable for his mate to eat, he thought perhaps a flower would do. Now he saw why her kind didn't look for food on the ground.

It was all worth it for her, though. He was looking forward to seeing her again, even if he had little to show for his foraging. She was funny looking, small with green feathers and a yellow beak, and she had an odd distaste for bugs and rodents, but she was good company and her roost was safe and secluded. It was funny to think that not so long ago she was little more than a bargain to him. When he first wandered upon the little cave where she and her mother nested he had been cold and lonely, a Spearow without a flock. The mother had offered him a home and a mate if he would feed them, and he had jumped at the chance. At first they were nothing but means to an end, but he came to see that they were very similar to him. They too had been abandoned (for their odd coloring, he assumed), and their flock left in search of a forest unmolested by humans. He grew close to his surrogate flock, providing for loved ones rather than for a place to stay. When he evolved, they shared in his joy, and he knew that they were truly family. By the time the mother passed she was his mother, too, and he mourned her loss with his mate.

As soon as he saw the familiar jagged rocks that marked home he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He did not see the fresh-carved hole in the mountainside, as he was too busy thinking about food. He might not have much, but they would make it work. They always had. He would show her his meager find, and she would thank him and heal his wounds. Then they would eat and rest and the next day he would return to the hunt. It was better, he thought, than hunting only to feed himself. He was not just surviving, but living for something.

He landed beside a tiny outcropping and hopped through a crevice into the little hole he called home. He was confused when she did not greet him. He called to her, but there was no reply beyond his own echo. A sudden breeze drew his attention to a dark hole in the wall. The pit in his stomach deepened as he peered through to see only darkness. He called to her again, and again there was no reply.

Where could she be? In all their time together she had never left home before. Perhaps he had been gone too long, and she left in search of food. No, he had been gone longer than this before, and she had always been patient. He eyed the hole in the wall and a darker thought occurred to him. Had a predator found its way into their home? He shook his head, banishing the thought. No! There was no sign of a struggle, no blood or feathers. That couldn't be it. She was okay, she had to be, but where was she?

He caught a glimmer in the corner of his eye and turned to the nest. A shimmering orb the size of a pebble rested among twigs and pieces of cloth. He had seen it before when his mate cured him of the day's wounds and fatigue. She called it a wish. When he asked her what that meant, she told him it was a prayer to her ancestors for good health.
There was something odd about this one, though. He could see little images in the pebble, dancing across its surface and through its center in a way that made his head hurt. He moved closer to get a better look, and suddenly he could see it all as if he was with her. He felt warm thoughts and memories for an instant, but something else pushed them away. There was a terrible thing, a voice, and it belonged to a human, or many humans. The humans took her away to she-didn't-know-where, and she reached out to him. She called to him to find her and bring her home.

His senses snapped back to the present. Peering into the wish left him feeling disoriented, but he also felt refreshed. He noted gladly that his wing no longer bled from the Tauros attack, and his slight dizziness was nothing compared to the headache the psybeam had caused him earlier.

He took a moment to think about what he had seen through the wish, and it filled him with anger. Humans had caused him more pain in the past day than ever before. Perhaps they were justified in fighting for their food's sake, but to hurt someone as innocent as his mate, to drag her from her nest when she had done them no wrong, that was inexcusable.

With rage burning fresh in his heart, Fearow took off through the hole in the wall, down the tunnel carved by the men's machines to rescue his mate and teach her captors a lesson.

Deeper in the cave, in a tunnel that still reeked faintly of excrement, Ms. Hart pondered her predicament. She wished she could discuss her thoughts with Soomwa and Dennis, but there was a risk the children would hear. The girl was still arguing with Dennis while the big one with the beard distracted the little one with a story about his grandfather witnessing giant birds hurl fire and storms at each other. She wondered briefly how much of it was true, then tuned out the kids to think about the real dilemma.

Mar Lan had created quite a mess. Ms. Hart had argued against using her as a guinea pig, but the Director had insisted that the position required someone, "both capable and expendable." Well, Lan was certainly capable, wasn't she? Now the Project Transcendence team was stranded and scattered across some alien, albeit remarkably familiar, landscape. So far they'd only managed to find one other member of the project team. The others remained lost and potentially irretrievable. She hoped none of her coworkers were alone like Dennis had been, but it seemed likely. While she had been lucky enough to end up near Soomwa in the mining town, they hadn't seen anyone else familiar in or around the small settlement. Ms. Hart worried that the others might not be able to find their way back to the anomaly. Soomwa seemed to have faith in his fellow scientists, though, and that gave her all the reason she needed for optimism. And if they were the only ones to find the anomaly, they would just have to return with a proper rescue party.

While the thought of abandoning any of her colleagues was distressing, Ms. Hart couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the thought that Soomwa wouldn't mind labeling Tret Xu as MIA. Those two really did loathe each other, to the point that Soomwa was worried Xu might try to leave the rest of the team behind if he got the chance. Hart honestly wouldn't be surprised. The businessman had earned his reputation as a glory-hound, a backstabber and a survivalist, after all. If he thought he could profit from something, he would do it.

Despite all the negatives, this was an opportunity for hands on exploration, and at least they had ended up somewhere habitable. After Lan's tampering, the anomaly could have spat them out just about anywhere. Barren tundra, acidic marshland, even the vacuum of space. The fact that they'd ended up somewhere with a human population, and near a small town no less, was nothing short of miraculous. Assuming that some horrific disease or unusual gas in the atmosphere wasn't slowly killing them, they were lucky.

Sometimes she envied Kakhun Keghun. Soomwa's hulking right hand man would be completely isolated from this potentially dangerous environment. Granted, he needed his suit to survive in just about any environment, and Victor had implied that Keghun's respirator was compromised, so now probably wasn't the best time to be him. Still, a full body hazard suit would be reassuring.

She wondered, not for the first time, what Soomwa thought of this whole ordeal. He was far more passionate about the project than she was, and far less passionate about anything else. His work was his life, and she knew failure was devastating to him. When the Director announced Project Transcendence, Soomwa had jumped at the chance to work in unknown territory, to open new frontiers both figurative and literal. Xu's involvement was a minor blow to his ego, but the project had weathered that storm. When the Director said that Xu and Soomwa would receive only honorable mentions for their work, Hart thought Soomwa would scream. Mar Lan's little setback must have felt like a punch to the gut, but he didn't let it show. He didn't let any of it show. Skiis Soomwa remained confident, forging onward even in the face of insurmountable odds. If anyone could salvage the project, it was him.

Though his focus and dedication were admirable qualities, she did wish he could turn his attention to other matters once in a while. Her affection for him went completely unnoticed. Any romantic advance either went over his head or earned her a reprimand for "distracting behavior" or "unprofessional attire." Of course, in her more extreme attempts she earned plenty of attention, but from the wrong eyes. Soomwa saw her as nothing more than a valued colleague.
Not that she didn't appreciate her position as his assistant. It felt good to work closely with him, to not only see his genius firsthand, but to be involved in his research. He trusted no one else so absolutely, except perhaps Keghun. Still, she wanted more than his trust and respect. She wanted his love.

Just as she was drifting into a day dream, a startled shout jarred her from her thoughts.

"Arceus!" Darius, the source of the noise, was now trying to block Winn's view of something. He was large enough that Winn couldn't see past him, but the curious child was also quick. When Darius tried to grab him, he darted around the larger boy with ease.

"What's the secret?" Winn stopped dead in his tracks. He was confused, or perhaps stunned. Whatever the case he only managed to stammer a short "What?" Alma rushed over to the boy while Darius stood nearby shaking his head.
Hart looked to her colleagues, wondering what had the children acting so strangely. Dennis wore a look of disgust, to her surprise; He was usually good at concealing his emotions. Soomwa's face was a mix of pity and disappointment. Both men were looking at the same point. She followed their gaze and gasped.

There on the cave floor, lying in a tattered, bloodied heap was a man Hart had known and worked with for three years, or at least part of him. His legs were missing, severed cleanly below the knee. His face was to the ceiling, eyes wide with shock, mouth agape. His chest was still, the rise and fall of breath absent.

"Terrence Burke," Soomwa said, a touch of sadness in his voice.
"What could have done this?" Alma asked, awestruck.

"Maybe it was the 'monster' your lost friend was so frantic about," Dennis muttered.

Winn whimpered. The poor kid was scared enough as it was, worrying about his brother. (Hart did regret abandoning Victor, but it was for the greater good.) Now he had to cope with thoughts of grizzly corpses and monsters. Alma tried to comfort him with a tight hug and warm words. Darius muttered something to himself, still shaking his head.
"I suppose the bat crap masked the smell," Dennis remarked flatly.

Hart flashed him a sharp glare through her tears and delivered a swift elbow to his ribs. Dennis Fris was a clever man, but he treated his equals like dirt. Whenever possible she tried to return the favor. Though Soomwa usually turned a blind eye to his subordinate's ignorance, Hart was pleased to see him take notice this once.

"Really, Mister Fris. There are children present," Soomwa hissed through clenched teeth. "I would rather we keep up appearances lest they grow suspicious."

"Yes sir." Dennis spared a moment to return Hart's glare and brought a hand to his sore side. "Does this look like Mar's work?" he whispered. "I've heard stories-"

"Nevermind what you've heard," said Soomwa dismissively. "Even if Lan could tear a man limb from limb, she could never do it so smoothly. If anything, she killed him indirectly by tampering with the Soomwa Device. I believe Mister Burke lost his legs in a wall."

"What?" Dennis asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"No time for that now," Soomwa said. He turned to address the children with a somber expression. Alma kept her composure for Winn's sake, but she was clearly disturbed.

"Is he," The girl hesitated. "Is there anything you can do?"

Soomwa sighed. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for Terrence. He was a good man, dedicated to his work, and well loved by his colleagues."

Hart suppressed a sigh of her own. She understood that the eulogy was for the children's sake, but she would prefer it without the blatant lies. Soomwa barely knew the man. Hart, on the other hand, made it her business to know every member of the project team. She didn't want him dead, but there wasn't much to like about him. Burke was not a team player. He frequently refused to share his research with anyone but his direct superior. His lack of cooperation might have put the project months behind schedule if she hadn't threatened to go to the Director. Even so, his contributions were essential. He deserved to be remembered properly, as both an incredible scientist and a stubborn jerk, not just another faceless model employee. It was a minor comfort that Soomwa's words carried some truth.

"He did not deserve to die, and he would not want the same fate to befall those still lost." His expression hardened, sadness replaced by a solid determination. "The time for mourning is later. Right now we must focus on the living and hasten our search."

Alma took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right." The slight quiver in her voice vanished. "Your friends need our help. So what are we waiting for?"

"I just don't understand," said Darius, eyes glistening with restrained tears. "My grandfather saw many things on his adventures. He spoke of fierce Pokémon and vicious battles, but I have never heard of anything quite so... violent."
Dennis scoffed. "I'm sure your granddad took some liberties censoring his stories for children's ears. This isn't some fairy tale. This is reality. People die."

It took an immense effort to resist slapping him for that. Hart would have to punish him properly later, but now was not the time to start a fight. "I think what Dennis means to say is that your grandfather may have romanticized his experiences and left out a few grim details."

"What I mean to say is-" Dennis growled, but Winn cut him off.

"What about Victor?" the boy demanded, wiping his eyes and sniffling. "What if the thing that did this finds him?"
Hart felt terrible for the child, she really did, but there was nothing she could do for him. The truth was, his brother and the little girl were probably hopelessly lost in that collapsed tunnel. Even if they did somehow find their way back to the group, the children would be abandoned as soon as the device was recovered. An unfortunate but necessary sacrifice, as Soomwa put it.

Alma, unaware of her own fate, was able to think more optimistically. She knelt down to look Winn in the eye, meeting his puffy eyes and quivering lip with a soft gaze and a reassuring smile.

"Your brother's a good trainer," she said. "I've seen him fight, and I know he has potential. He can protect himself. He'll be fine. Okay?"

Alma wiped a stray tear off his cheek and he nodded. She gave him another hug, then got back to her feet.

"Well, your brother isn't going to find himself. Are you ready to go?"

Winn sniffled one last time before nodding. "Yeah," he mumbled. He turned to Darius with a pleading look. "Can you tell me another story?"

The rotund adventurer ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned away from the body. He was clearly having trouble coping with the situation. When he addressed the ten year old his tone was apologetic. "Sorry, Winn. I need a moment to… collect my thoughts."

"I think I might have a story or two," Alma said, giving Darius an understanding look.

Alma took the lead with Winn on one side and her living lantern (Dunsparce, was it?) on the other. Skiis and Dennis trailed close behind. Soomwa was reluctant to follow anyone, but he wasn't going to wander ahead in the dark. Hart joined her colleagues while Darius stayed at the rear. She noted sadly that everyone seemed to have moved on from Burke's tragic death; The girl was telling some story about a surfing rodent to the boy, who giggled, while her fellow scientists were whispering about the extent of Mar Lan's tampering and the probability of further casualties. Only she and Darius seemed to care, and it made her feel worse.

"Ms. Hart," Soomwa whispered. She looked up expectantly, hoping to find some comfort in his attention. She was disappointed. "You're not a child," he chastised with a disdainful look. "You need to set a better example and focus on the big picture. I expect more from you."

"Yes sir," she whispered back, struggling to hold back tears.

Victor and Emily walked in silence. The only noise was the echoing of their footsteps, and the only light came from Victor's Pokégear. If it weren't for their dim surroundings, Victor didn't think she would be standing so close to him. As it was, she hadn't spoken to him for the past twenty minutes. She wasn't all that friendly to begin with, and his mistake with Pyra had put her into a particularly foul mood. If he had known burning poop smelled so bad he never would have tried to use Pyra to light the way. Now it was too late. Even with the Golbat cave behind them, the smell lingered on their clothes and in the air, and Emily remained stoically silent.

So far Victor had failed miserably to pry her from her shell. He'd have better luck with a Cloyster. Still, he had to try. He wanted someone to talk to, needed a distraction from his thoughts and fears. But what was there to talk about?
Talking about finding the others would only remind them both of the problems the conversation was supposed to help them forget. He'd tried bringing up how she came to Yamasan, and all she said was "I walked." He asked whether she was interested in the League, but her only response was "Duh."

He looked around for anything to talk about. Rock? Boring. Why would he even consider that? Pokégear? No, she didn't have much, and judging from the super rod incident, she wouldn't appreciate reminders. Pyra? Maybe he could ask her about her Pokémon. Sure, she didn't want to talk about it with the others. She didn't even want it out of its ball. Now that it was out of its ball anyway...

"You don't sound like you're from Hoenn. Did you get that Sableye from traveling or a family member or-"

"None of your business," she said curtly. If anything she sounded more annoyed with him.

"I was just curious," Victor sighed, giving up.

"I don't care," Emily replied. "I don't care about your life, and you shouldn't care about mine. Stop. Asking. Questions."

Without any distraction to keep his mind occupied, Victor's thoughts quickly turned to his friends on the other side of the cave-in, particularly Winn. Would they really be able to find them again? Dennis sounded pretty confident, but he had been wandering around in the dark before they found him. There was a chance that he had no idea what he was talking about, but if that was the case the situation was completely hopeless. They would just have to trust him. The alternative was too awful to think about.

Of course once he started he couldn't stop thinking about it. His brother trapped in a big, twisted cave network, wandering around alone in the dark, tired and hungry. Sure, Alma and Darius and the archaeologists were with him, but what good would they be when the food ran out? And what if something tried to make a meal out of them? Those Golbat might not stand a chance against Alli, but it would only take one to slip past and suck Winn dry. There were plenty of other dangerous Pokémon to worry about. Professor Lime had recorded Parasect, Geodude and Graveler, and even an Onix once. Not to mention that monster. If it ran into them, he wasn't sure even a Feraligatr would be enough to stop it. Even worse, what if it found him and Emily? Machoke barely survived his fight with it. Pyra and Sableye wouldn't stand a chance.

"Hey!"

Emily's shout jolted Victor from his thoughts. His startled response was a step backward that sent a sharp pain through his injured leg.

"Calm down," said Emily, rolling her eyes at Victor's groaning. "We're here."

They'd passed the open area where they found Dennis a while ago and now they found themselves at the fork in the tunnel. The light from the Pokégear glinted off the mine cart rails that stretched out into darkness and shards of glass that littered the ground from light bulbs broken during the quake.

Victor immediately returned Pyra so that she wouldn't get her paws cut up. Sableye didn't share such concerns. While Victor and Emily's footsteps were now accompanied by the sound of breaking glass, the ghost was as silent as ever. The impish purple Pokémon snapped its gemlike eyes toward a barely audible giggle and flashed another razor-toothed grin. Of course they were still being followed.

Victor wondered if ghosts ever got tired. Professor Lime once told him that ghost types were more mysterious than legends in some ways. Obviously they could be hurt by some attacks, but how did that even work? They were already dead, or something like that. They must get tired after a tough battle, he thought, though he had heard of some that never slept.

It suddenly dawned on him just how tired he was. His Pokégear told him he'd been walking nearly half a day, and his injury wasn't helping. Remembering what Darius had said earlier, Victor remarked, "It's too bad we can't use one of those mine carts. Sure would make things easier."

"That's stupid," Emily said. "Darius has no clue what he's talking about. Besides, it wouldn't do us any good going up hill."

"Oh." Victor felt his face go red. "I guess you're right."

The words had barely left his mouth when a noise caught his attention. A faint screech echoed down the tunnel. It sounded almost like a Golbat. At first he thought he'd imagined it, but Sableye seemed to notice, too. Its grin vanished as it gazed into the dark.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Victor paused. Emily only stopped when she couldn't see any further. Sableye stalked away, oblivious to the lack of lighting.

Silence.

"What are-"

Emily stopped mid-question as another screech echoed down the tunnel, this one was louder. Or maybe closer.

"Did you-"

"I heard it."

"Do you think it's a Golbat or something?"

Another screech. This one sounded much closer, like it was only a few feet away.

"No."

She shoved him hard, sending him flailing backward. He tripped on a rail and crashed to the ground with a startled shout. Glass crunched beneath his backpack and scratched at his arms and legs. A sudden rush of wind sent glass shards flying, tinkling like wind chimes as they collided with the walls and floor. Victor glimpsed a boxy figure shooting down the tunnel before the dark swallowed it. Sparks briefly illuminated the thing as it rounded the corner at the fork in the tunnel.

"Mine carts," Emily said, glaring at him as she brushed pulverized glass out of her hair and off her clothes. "You just had to bring them up, didn't you?"

"It's not my fault one came whizzing down the tracks at us!" A burst of laughter made him rethink that statement.
Sableye reappeared, lunging out of the dark at its trainer's side. There was a shriek and Misdreavus darted for the edge of the light. The little ghost turned and winked before vanishing.

"Why does it want you dead?" Emily asked, sounding more annoyed than concerned.

"I don't know," Victor sighed. "I think she wants me to suffer. Professor Lime told me some ghost types feed off of negative emotions." He looked nervously at Sableye. "Yours doesn't-"

"Rocks. It eats rocks."

"Oh. Good." Victor got shakily to his feet and was about to ask about first aid when something occurred to him. It was silly, but he thought it might lighten the mood. "I thought you didn't care, but now you're the one asking questions."

"I don't care," she spat. "But when it affects me I need to know." Sableye grinned at his trainer. "Shut up."

Misdreavus circled the trio. She couldn't claim her meal thanks to that pesky Sableye. (She could still feel those eyes on her even in the darkest corners the cave had to offer). All the same, she was enjoying the appetizer.