Chapter 14: Heading Out

Light from the sunrise streamed its way through the windows of the cottage, a warm glow illuminated the interior of the quiet house. One set of windows was over the bed where the blond boy now rested. Sunshine quickly covered his top half and although he was sleeping face down, the light was bright enough to surround his unconscious vision with a cloud of light. He stirred in his sleep, moving his pillow in a way where it would block some of the rays, though this did not completely obscure the brightness. If one were to listen carefully, the calm waves of low tide could be heard softly brushing against the ridge. These soothing sounds were easily overridden by the cry of roosters, which could be heard in the distance, welcoming the arrival of a new day. The boy heard them, breaking him away from the deeper side of sleep. He was not eager to greet the morning.

He began to move, trying to find another comfortable position in which he could return to sleep. "Just a few more minutes. . ." he said groggily as he pressed the pillow tighter over his head. If only the sounds could stop interfering with his senses. The brown dog by the side of the bed stretched, letting loose a high pitched yawn. He stood on his hind legs and using one paw, scratched at the sheets, wanting the boy's attention. The boy would not have it so he reached out and without looking, pushed against the dog's wet nose. "Shhh Boney, I said a few more minutes. . ." his voice was muffled. He had trouble breathing, but he felt too tired to care.

Boney scratched harder this time. (But Kumatora said—)

At the mention of the name, Lucas bolted upright. "Oh no, what time is it?" He opened his eyes, immediately shutting them, he felt the brightness of the room would burn out his retinas if he kept them open. He shielded them with his arm, attempting to avoid any speck of the sun.

(Oh you're awake, if you're still wondering about the time, it's very early, the sun began to rise not too long ago.) Pidgey, who was perched on the front window sill, looked over him.

Lucas allowed himself to fall back on his pillow with a sigh, slowly opening his eyes to expose them to the rays of sunshine bit by bit. When he found he was able to stare at the ceiling with no problem, he turned his head over to his father's bed. As always, he was gone, probably out helping the village. He then turned to Boney, who's head lay on the edge of the bed. His tongue was out, beginning to dampen the sheets. "Eww, that's gross Boney." He chuckled as he reached out to pet him, the labrador's tail responded with a wag.

(Good morning to you too!)

Lucas yawed, with the urge to sleep longer, he had always been a late riser. But he had agreed to meet with the princess so he could not allow himself to fall victim to the calling of the warm blankets and soft pillow. Knowing of his lack of sleep, if he lay again, it would not have been for a few moments, but for a few hours. It's that dream's fault.

The Dream. . . He repeated the words that served to distill the events. Forest. . . Tree. . . Snake. . . Smile. . . Box. . . That's it? There should be more to it. He brought his legs closer, laying his head over his crossed arms that rested on his knees. He stared off, not focusing on anything specific, still lost about the dream. He wracked his brain to remember the details, with it no longer being fresh in his mind. What he could recall evoked fear and uncertainty, he felt a chill run through him. The rest was difficult to make sense of, there was not a direct interpretation for the events in dreams it seemed. Maybe there was not suppose to be meaning in thoughts that were conceived by the subconscious areas of the mind. At least not in a "normal" person. Being psychic could have something to do with the way his dream played out. And in the way it played out—

One meaning he could derive from it was certain—

(Are. . . Are you alright?) Pidgey must have been concerned for him, based on the expression that lingered on his face.

Hmm. . ? Oh, yeah, I'll be fine. He meant it this time. I'm just trying to remember something, that's all, he said, hoping he did not reveal his emotions on accident. He tapped his finger over his forearm repeatedly, hoping some details would return to him.

Boney could now have been labeled as 'the friend that brings you to your senses', once again scratching at the sheets, more rapidly. Lucas looked over to him. "Alright, you win, I'm getting up," he said as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

He quickly changed out of his pajamas into a fresh set of clothes, donning his same old colors. The clothes he wore the previous day now lay over the end of the bed and were stained as if they had gone through more than just dirt. The wrinkles seemed as if they had been caused by a mortar, crushing the fibers and extracting the colors. There were too many tears, it was unlikely he would be able to save this set of clothes. After examination, the pulled out Boney's bandanna from the back pocket, tossing it into the basin. He dug his hands into the front ones, wondering what else he may find. First it was the third strip of Double Jerky (that had been double sun-dried, then submerged in hot water, then dried by evaporating the moisture) I'm not eating that, and in the other pocket was a familiar strip of paper.

He froze, with the horror that part of his dream, wasn't just a dream. The Red Mailbox. . .

The strip of paper turned out to be a coupon for Thomas's Bazaar. He released a breath of relief and set the loose leaf aside.

A soft bundle of leaves made contact with his wandering hand, retrieving a hand-full of seeds. He had forgotten about the generosity of the hen and her gift. He placed the bundle beside his other findings.

That seemed to be it. He dug in one last time a little deeper, seven smooth fragments fell on his palm, one for each flower that had burned. The boy felt a small tug in his heart.

Then he remembered what he had done to the tree the previous day. No doubt the rest of the town would remind him of it. He needed to be mindful of how he would show himself today, very mindful. Maybe even so much as a sneeze from him would make those around jump for cover, he remembered how Lou had reacted to his pointing finger. It's not like I'm gonna breathe fire with a sneeze, I don't even know any pyrokinesis. But they didn't know that. As far as they knew, he could summon fire out of nowhere. He just needed to act "normal" like he would any other day and try to brush off the emotions that were bound to emanate from others. He especially needed to avoid Pusher and that abhorrent lady, he did not want to tread anywhere near that pool of thin ice. Though normal to him was abnormal to everyone else. So no, not normal, he was awful at putting up that façade, he just needed to be himself.

I can't pretend like nothing happened, but I also can't hide my remorse. They need to see that I do feel ashamed, but not too much, it'll just make me look weak in their eyes. I can't keep pretending to fit in either. They know I'm 'different' and they shouldn't keep ignoring it. So I will just need to go on as usual. And this event, well, it's in the past, and it can't be changed. They need to see that I'm moving forward, so should they.

The truth was, they usually didn't. All they did was continue to label him as 'abnormal' while clinging on to his faults, and keep this in mind whenever he showed his face. The label "crybaby" would still float around and most never seemed to acknowledge his growth over the years, why should he expect they move on? He could not change their minds, their opinions of him would most likely remain the same. And this incident only conditioned them to continue this mindset.

Wait, maybe I can change— No, what was he thinking? He would never use his powers to make others go against their own thoughts. That lead into the territory of. . . of. . .

Mind Control.

Why would he even consider—

(You're staring again.)

He finally realized his eyes were glued to the seeds on his palm. He admired the thin stripes and the tiny plant fuzz that remained on them. He shifted them in his hand and placed them on their own spot, separate from the other items. He glanced to Boney, and ruffled the fur on his head. Sorry bud, don't worry, I'm still here. He felt the need to say as Boney began feeling an ounce of concern. His tail moved side-to-side just once, being optimistic that the boy was alright.

Lucas noticed Pidgey who was preening, so he proceeded to go to the mirror, picked up his comb, and began his morning routine. His hair did not fight him and the strands formed into place with just one passing of the comb. Surprisingly he finished in just a few minutes, as it usually took longer for him to get his hair to his liking.

After, Lucas placed a pot of water over the stove and lit a small cooking fire, then went to the basin, poured water and soap, and began washing Boney's bandanna. The Hot-Spring from the night prior had removed most of the filth, but Lucas wanted his friend to have the cleanest bandanna possible. He wrung it out, the suds created a layer of foam over the murky water. Looks like it still had some dirt after all. Finally, he removed the excess amounts of water using PSI and shook it one last time, the smell of clean cotton hovered in the air, the soapy fragrance leaving traces of lavender.

While he was busy, Boney eyed the items Lucas had removed from the pockets. They became fixed on the strip of Soggy Jerky. The labrador looked to the boy, then back at the strip, to the boy and to the unappetizing piece of meat, conflicted with what to do. (Nah, he won't miss it.) So he snapped it up, hardly chewing it.

"There we go. Come Boney, it's ready." With one knot, Lucas had comfortably secured Boney's bandanna around his neck, the dog trying to reach his face with his tongue, while Lucas tried his best to avoid the dog's jerking motions. "You hungry?"

Boney barked, (Am I?) and leapt higher than before.

"Ha," How about you Pidgey?

The bird looked up from its preening. (If it's not too much trouble.)

'Course not. The blond went back to the items on the bed, took the bundle which contained the seeds and went to set them on the dining table. He then found Boney's bowl and filled it with kibble, setting it beside the table. Some pellets rolled out from the bowl as it was placed down.

(Plain old dog food?) Boney looked to the bowl with his head hung down.

"Don't complain, unless you want oatmeal, which is what I'm having."

At least his dog food wasn't as bland as oatmeal. It was not the taste but the consistency he disliked, preferring kibble over that mush any day. While Boney began digging into his own food, Pidgey fluttered to the table and pecked into the pile of seeds left over from their visit to the Hot-Spring. Boney looked to the bird and licked his nose, as if holding back the impulse to pounce on it.

Lucas prepared his own bowl. He believed a simple breakfast would be best, although he did not awake feeling sick, it was better to take precaution by eating a light meal. He poured the oats then the boiling water, watched as the oats swirled around in the bowl when it met with the hot liquid, and cut an apple into thin slices, setting them onto a separate plate. As he turned around and carried the plates to the table, a strong urge poked its way into his mind, immediately he knew its source.

"Boney, don't even think about it." He scolded. "He's a friend, so you better be nice." Pidgey had looked up from the seeds, catching the dog's eyes locked on it. Then it looked to Lucas with a look that called for help. Sorry about him, he's just curious about you, that's all. He's friendly to all birds around here. It's just that he's never seen your kind before.

Boney looked back to his bowl, guilty that he had been caught. (Okay good, I would hate to fight him if he were to attack me. I'm not really accustomed to battles, and only fight when I need to.)

I feel the same way. Yesterday's battles showed me what you can do, Boney should be the one who's scared. Lucas joked as he set the plates down, taking a seat across the bird. Would you like some apple? He took a slice from the plate.

(A-app-le? I've never had that before.) Timidly, it took a slice and placed it over its pile of seeds, examining the white flesh and red-orange skin. As it slowly nipped one of the ends, Lucas saw as its eyes brightened, shocked as the burst of new flavor filled its beak. (Oh wow, this is so good! It's similar to the berries back home.)

Heh, I figured you'd like it. There's more if you'd like.

(Yes please!) It said eagerly, shutting its eyes with a deep nod.

Besides the labrador's loud crunching, all three ate breakfast quietly, that is until Boney was about done. After he saw the lack of contents in his bowl, his nose drooped into the container as if somehow, more food would appear, it was possible his boy would perform one of his "tricks" again, magically making more food present. When it remained the same, Boney scratched into the bowl, which caught his boy's attention.

"Boney, that's enough for breakfast. You'll have to wait until lunch." Passively, he took another spoonful after blowing at it to cool it off.

He whined as he walked to the front door. (But what if we skip lunch again like we did yesterday?) He scratched at the door once, not wanting to further retort, knowing this was the boy's final decision.

His mouth was full. "We won't." Lucas poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher and allowed the door to open without a glance, Boney pushing it with the tip of his nose just enough for him to squeeze through.

He put his glass down. He never stops eating. If I don't regulate his meals, he would eat all day, that or until he'd get sick.

(Well I believe that's a sign that he's healthy.)

I guess. Speaking of which, how are you feeling?

(Oh, much better, I'm very well rested. And it's all thanks to you.)

Lucas smiled. Happy to help. So I was thinking, now that you're feeling better, will you have to leave soon?

(That depends, have you read the letter?)

He almost choked on his oatmeal.

(Oh, did you forget about it?)

He shook his head as he poured himself more water.

(I remember you said you were going to read it in the morning. Well, it's morning and I can't leave with the message still in the cylinder. My instructions were to make sure it reaches the recipient and that they read it.)

He cleared his throat. Of all things, how had he forgotten about the letter? That dream must have messed with his head in more ways than one. Uh, yeah, I read it last night. ['Read it?' More like I've memorized it.]

(Oh, you did? What did you think of it? Did it answer your questions?)

He looked up from his bowl and began staring into the assortment of seeds that was Pidgey's breakfast. Actually, it raised more questions than it answered. And. . . I don't know what to think of it yet.

Pidgey avoided eye contact, assuming the boy did not feel comfortable talking about it so it changed the subject. (So that's it, my delivery is done, I will have to go back soon. It's just. . .) It looked away.

Lucas felt a different emotion, a shift into worry, so he retreated out of the bird's mind so it would have space for its own private thoughts. But he still asked, "What is it?"

(Oh it's nothing.)

"Well I'm sorry for the invasion, but it's definitely something. When you first came here, I felt it all, that's how I was able to sense you were in danger from so far away. So, what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

It purred deeply. (I almost didn't make it here. I only arrived safely because of you. What if I can't make it back? What if I get lost again?)

Lucas felt the pour of emotions all at once. "What about you having, uh, 'good Eye Vees?' They wouldn't have sent you if they knew you couldn't do it."

(No, it's not just that. I. . . I didn't tell you this before but. . . I was attacked on the way here.)

An unexpected serious expression emerged. Knowing that someone had targeted his new friend caused him to get defensive. "You were attacked? By who?" Why? Lucas remembered the state it was in when he first examined it. "Is that where the scratches were from? And your plucked feathers?"

There was an apprehensive purr as it dipped its head. (I didn't get a very good look at them but I could tell they were. . . strange bird-shaped creatures and looked as if they were formed by shadows. They had long thin beaks and glowing red eyes and as they flew, bits and pieces trailed off of them, like some form of dark energy. I didn't notice it at first, but the moment I flew out of that 'tunnel' I had a strange feeling like I was being followed. It was around the time I began feeling lost when they showed themselves.) Pidgey looked away, Lucas saw a small shimmer in its eye. Seeing others about to cry—

(They began flying really fast towards me. There were three of them, two at my sides and one over me. At first I thought they wanted to hunt me down, but then they began diving and trying to make me loose my lift. Then I knew they were interested in the tube. So I. . . I let it go.)

A single liquid crystal fell on the table.

"Pidgey, you—"

(I knew it was wrong, it went against my mission and I don't deserve to be a carrier Pidgey, but I thought that was the only way they would leave me alone. But I was wrong. They caught the tube, then they grabbed me and took me with them.)

Its emotions were unrestrained now and Lucas saw glimpses of what it had seen. The open ocean, the roaring waves below and the shadow birds, with their crimson irises, outlined by a thin white border. He got up and approached it, sending a calming psychokinetic vibe, hoping it would soothe the little bird.

Pidgey accepted it, beginning to calm down, leaning against the boy's arms where it felt secure. These same arms that had carried it to safety, the bird quickly welcomed their warm embrace, reminded of being back home with its Trainer. Lucas waited patiently for it to compose itself. He had grown to care for it in a way he had never done with other birds. He could easily relate, and could not help but see a reflection of himself.

It purred again, but a more calming one so Lucas set it back on the table and took his seat. (When I thought I was done for, the metal tube suddenly sparked! It shocked the shadow bird and when another tried grabbing it, that one got shocked too. Then the one that was holding me, let me go and went strait for the tube. But I got a hold of it first, I was much better at diving. They tried grabbing me but they got shocked the moment they got too close, as if the tube put a force field around me. It was the most unexpected thing. I knew that for my own safety, I needed to carry that tube. I didn't see the birds after that.)

"Maybe those defense mechanisms you were talking about came into effect when it fell into the wrong hands and whoever sent those birds must have wanted to intercept the letter." He clinked his spoon on the bowl's rim.

(They did not want you to receive it, least of all read it.)

"Yeah, but why?" He looked at the spoon.

(Well they most likely don't want you to come into contact with the ones who sent it, you know that elite team.)

He stared at his upside-down reflection created by the concave area of the spoon. But why don't they want me to know about this tournament? He thought to himself as he closed his eyes. Are they afraid I might join? It's just a fighting tournament, it shouldn't be a big deal. Maybe the interception involved another party member, trying to eliminate the competition before it ever gets a chance to challenge them. Most likely because there's money involved, it's always about money. . .The spoon was beginning to bend.

Pidgey's feathers began to fluff nervously, watching as the spoon twisted downward reminded it of a certain powerful Psychic-Type Pokémon who wielded spoons, that also happened to reside in its city's Gym. . .

They must have other reasons for wanting my absence, and didn't the letter say this event was 'of the utmost importance'? What could be so important about— he began feeling Pidgey's discomfort and just realized what he was doing. "Oh, oops, sorry about that." he set the spoon down, but not before straightening it out. Although he had no intention of manipulating the utensil in such a way, it was better for him to do so before it resulted in something else being damaged.

(That spoon-bending thing must be a psychic thing, helps them focus or something, but even if Lucas is the one doing it, it still creeps me out.) The bird thought as Lucas fixed the spoon. As it looked back to its seeds, Pidgey further questioned its role in all of this. Was it meant just to be the messenger and nothing more? Yes this was its duty, and yes it carried risks. But was it the proper candidate to send? Was there someone better suited for the role? If so, why send a simple Pidgey instead of a stronger bird Pokémon? It began to believe that it was not ready, this mission had been too complex to fulfill. And then there was the problem. The problem with how it was about to throw away the cylinder, the subject of the delivery had almost been lost because it was too afraid and weak to fight back.

Lucas caught on to the bird's emotions. "Pidgey, I don't want you to feel bad about ditching the letter to save yourself. I know it was your mission, but you had to make a choice then. At the time, you were in danger and you went for the option that you thought would save you, that's only natural. Nobody would blame you if you lost it, so don't be hard on yourself okay?"

His words seemed to perk Pidgey up, Lucas was so forgiving, but would its Trainer think the same? And if he found out, would it be stripped of its position? Maybe it should just give up, leave these jobs to the more experienced so it could instead handle simpler tasks. It was not prepared for much else.

"Hey, you're ready for this. You made it this far didn't you? Even after that attack. So you can make it back. And the tube will still provide protection. Wait, I know, I can do something that can help you return home!"

(You can? What is it?)

"Well I can't go with you, but I can set up defense barriers to protect you. So in case something happens, Defense Up will kick in. Oh right, and they can be layered. I'll layer you with every type of assist PSI that I know. How's that sound?"

(Assists? Like status boosts? You can do that? Wow!) Its eyes twinkled endearingly.

"Sure I can, but there's a downside. They can only last so long and get weaker as time passes, so they're temporary, but it might be enough to get you through a long part of your trip."

Pidgey's purr demonstrated its gratitude, any help was great to have. It looked down. (I'm sorry I have to rely on shields to help me get by. I'm not strong enough to get things done on my own, nor am I as brave as you, I'm a coward and I want to avoid fights as much as possible. But not you. Back in the forest, you stepped forth to protect your friend and were willing to risk your own life just to give me the chance to escape, if I didn't know you, I would have taken it without turning back.)

"But you did turn back, you need to take credit for what you did. You saved me, and I don't think you just wanted to return the favor, you wanted to help someone more than you wanted to help yourself. So that's why you put yourself in danger and went all out, to the point you discovered a power you didn't know you had."

It remembered how it had successfully executed Brave Bird, a move thought to only be known by strong fliers.

"Besides, everyone needs help you know, even if it's a little."

The little bird finished the lasts bits of the apple. (Thank you Lucas.) It thought of its Trainer.

"Sure! And don't worry about him, I'm sure he'll be happy to see your return. I know if I sent Boney on a mission, I would feel a lot better knowing he came back safe." He quickly finished the last of the contents in his bowl, as it was now a moderate temperature, before tidying up the table. When he took hold of his spoon, he noticed he had not straightened it properly, it was still slightly in an obtuse angle. So he held it in front of himself, trying to release the smallest mental waves required to get the spoon to its original form. It was more difficult than he thought and it took multiple attempts, like when one tries to stick a thread into the hole of a sewing needle. He found this to be a good mental exercise, tuning his fine motor skills, only with this, it was tuning his mind instead. "Hmph, you're right about one thing, this spoon-bending thing is weird, I don't know why I find it so appealing, or why I bent it in the first place. But it does make me feel better. I was told I had to use PSI often to avoid a build-up of power. Maybe manipulating things like that is just a way my mind subconsciously regulates my powers, I'm not sure exactly, I'm still new to the whole psychic thing." I feel like this is something Kumatora would say, oh great now I'm starting to sound like her, I don't know if that's a good thing.

(You mean you have not always had psionic abilities?)

He picked up the leaves where the seeds had been and made his way to get the dishes cleaned up. "Well, yes and no. I'm sure I was born with the potential, I just needed a little shove in the right direction to realize them." I mean, I almost drowned, "Ever since I can remember, I have been able to communicate with animals. Also when I was little, I remember getting bad scratches one day, only to find them gone the next day, when normally it would have taken a few days to be healed all the way. These must have been the earliest signs of my powers."

(Oh, I see. After I saw all those amazing things you did last night, I thought you were an expert.)

He smiled. "Heh, I'm not. I've still got a lot to learn."

He cleaned all of what he had used then went over to the items from his pockets. First was the Bazaar Coupon, which he found much use in. After the submersion in the hot-spring the text had faded, so much that it was hardly readable. Hopefully it was still redeemable. He scooped the sunflower seeds onto his palm and placed them in a small glass container with water and put it by the basin. One day of soaking and they would be ready to plant. All that should have remained on the bed was the strip of Soggy Jerky.

But it was gone. "Hey where's—" There could be only one explanation for its disappearance. I know I said he'd get lunch, but now I think I'll reconsider. . . He thought, mildly annoyed. He knew he would not go through with this second thought, he wasn't going to eat that jerky anyway. But he would not allow Boney off scot-free.

Lucas reached under his bed, pulling out his stick and the red tube. He opened it one last time, removing the letter with the broken wax seal. Both items were placed on the bed. "Here Pidgey, you'll need to take this back."

The bird fluttered onto his bed. (Oh right.) It fiddled with the strap for a moment, before weakly griping it. (Um. . . Is it okay if I say a little while longer?)

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

(I don't think I'm ready yet.)

"Sure. You can stay here and rest for as long as you need to. Or you can come with us, I'm going to the Bazaar then meeting up with a friend."

(A-a Bazaar? What's that?)

"It's a store where you can buy food and a lot of other neat things." He placed his stick over his shoulder onto his back, focusing so it could stay in place then opened his drawer by his bed to retrieve some DP.

(Oh, it's like a Mart! I've never actually been to one. Are you sure I can go?)

"Yeah! I know the shop owner won't mind as long as you're with me." He glanced at the envelope, it was the only object remaining on his bed. He took a long look at it before deciding to hide it somewhere. He did not want to place it back under his bed, a sole piece of paper lying around was too conspicuous. So he placed the envelope as far back as he could into his drawer.

Pidgey took note of his movements. (I don't understand something. Last night when your father asked about the letter, you told him you were going to help me deliver it to the right person, even though you knew it was for you.)

"Yeah." He looked down to his bed sheets.

(Why didn't you tell him the truth? He seems to be an understanding person.)

It took him a moment to find the right words. "He didn't need to know about this then. There was more important things to worry about."

(You don't trust him?)

Lucas was taken aback. "I-I trust him! I just prefer he doesn't know about this yet. I'll tell him when I feel the time is right." Pidgey caught on quick, because the truth was—

The bird did not expect the boy to be this flustered. (So humans sometimes lie on purpose so they don't worry others. Okay I think I understand. But anyway, know that he trusts you. I heard him talking quietly this morning while you were still asleep. I didn't hear much of what he said, but he did say, 'I trust you, and I know you will do what is right.' After he saw I was awake, he stopped talking to himself.)

Lucas looked away. Flint talked to him while he was asleep. . .

(I just thought you should know. I'm sorry if I sound like I'm being invasive.)

[Right back at me huh?] "Well, thanks for telling me, and don't worry about it, I appreciate your honesty." He did feel grateful and sensed Pidgey said this with no ill intent. But knowing that others caught onto his emotions this easily, opened him up to vulnerability. He just couldn't help with the subtlety of his own expressions.

(Also before he left, he wished for your safety. Then he came up to me and told me to tell you that he was going to see the police force and warn them about the danger.)

"My dad talked to you directly?" [That's surprising.] "So that's where he went. We should both get going then." He closed the drawer. Once he opened the front door, a rush of ocean air came to greet him. There better not be another storm coming. The draft pushed Pidgey back so forcefully, it almost slammed into the door. It fluttered its wings and stopped just before making contact. Lucas gestured to his shoulder, where Pidgey quickly perched onto. Boney was with the sheep who were grazing around the house, before joining his boy. "Woof, rrrrufff." (Finally I can take you for a walk!)

Lucas rolled his eyes, he could never convince Boney that his idea was the other way around. His eyes fell onto the doghouse, then down to the odd porous stone from last night. The thought crossed his mind again. Why would they send a rock? He picked it up and blew the dust away before placing it into his pocket. Who knows, maybe it could turn out to be useful.

The three moved along the path that lead to town, the wind had settled and the sun cast its morning warmth, quickly evaporating the dew. Behind them, a green frog hopped into the center of the path. "Rrr-ribbit!" (Save?)