CHAPTER 2-ISAIAH
Her hands, which still held the crumpled shirt, dropped softly into her lap. The silence in the dank laundry room magnified the sound of Rasha's breathing. After a couple seconds, she slowly lifted the shirt in front of her face once again. The red R glared back at her.
She'd let a Team Rocket member into her house.
At first all she could be was afraid, but her fear quickly morphed into a crazed sort of anger. Throwing the shirt to the ground, Rasha sprang to her feet and began stomping around the room, searching for some sort of weapon; something she could beat him over the head with so she'd have time to call the police. She couldn't believe she'd put herself and her Pokémon in danger to save a Team Rocket member who didn't even want to be saved in the first place! How could I have been so stupid?! she screamed at herself silently.
Almost bare of objects, the laundry room provided few options. Stifling the urge to scream curse words, she grabbed the best thing she could find: a full bottle of laundry detergent. Though unwieldy, its weight could cause some pain if she hit him on the head with hit. Gathering her nerves, she began to stamp toward the door.
But before she could turn the handle she hesitated, relaxing her grip a bit on the heavy bottle. Rasha's mind insisted that she remove the danger to herself and her Pokémon as quickly as possible, but she couldn't help feeling guilty about attacking someone who was injured, even if Logan was a jerk and a thief. Mental images of his form when she had first discovered him on the mountain flashed back, flattening her anger a bit. Team Rocket member or not, something had really hurt him, and attacking him in this state wouldn't be fair. Besides, he hadn't done anything to her yet, she reminded herself. And it would've been different if he'd broken into her house with the intent to steal, but she'd brought him here without his knowing.
Setting her jaw, Rasha slowly turned on her heel and plodded back into the room, setting the bottle back onto the shelf above the washer before kneeling down and picking up the white shirt, folding it, and placing it on top of Logan's other two pieces of clothing. When she had picked up the entire pile, she took a deep breath to steady herself and headed back out to the room where Logan was still sitting quietly, staring out the window.
Rasha's loud footsteps startled Logan out of his thoughts. Looking a bit confused, he turned his head to look at her as she marched in carrying his clothes. Not knowing what to say, Rasha stopped in front of him and met his gaze with as cold a stare as she could muster. After several long seconds, Logan started to twitch. Finally, he said, "What?"
Rasha's breath came out in a hiss as she tossed the pile of clothes to him. He snatched them out of the air with one hand, carefully unfolding them and laying them out on the couch. When he got to the white shirt, though, he paused thoughtfully and held it at arm's length.
Logan stared at the R. It had been so long since he'd seen it that he'd forgotten about it.
When he finally looked up, Rasha was heading out the door and into the bedroom.
A strange sound from behind her made Rasha pause in the doorway. It took her a couple seconds to recognize the sound of dry laughter.
"What's going on?" he asked wryly. "Isn't this supposed to be the part where you threaten me and call the police?"
Slowly, Rasha spun back around. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.
To her surprise, he seemed to consider that for a second. "Not particularly," he said finally.
"Then don't tempt me."
He cocked one eyebrow at her. "Sure you want to let me stay?"
Raising her brow, she replied, "You don't seem like you're in a stealing mood right now, with those injuries."
A corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a tight snarl-smile. He felt he should make some sort of remark, but couldn't think of anything really clever that wouldn't put him into an even worse situation. Rasha amused him: it was perfectly clear she didn't trust him, but her pity kept her from turning him out. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was a bit intrigued.
Mouth set in a hard line, Rasha spun around and headed into her bedroom. The door shut hard behind her. With a grimace, Logan turned back to his window and tried to relax. He had a long night ahead of him to plot what to do next.
Grunting and stretching, Rasha slowly opened her eyes to the morning sun glaring into her window. With a soft groan, she rolled onto her stomach and stretched hard before reluctantly throwing off her covers and padding in sock feet over to her dresser. Her morning self peered out of the mirror with bleary eyes and hair that stood up all over the place. Making a face, she yanked open a drawer and fumbled for her hairbrush, attacking the frizz until it finally lay flat.
She remembered Logan while she was getting dressed, and wondered if he had even slept last night. With a chill, she received a sudden image of him prowling around her house while she slept, searching for where she kept her Pokéballs. Even though she made sure to lock the Pokéballs up before she went to bed, she had barely slept for worrying that he would try something. When she finished dressing, she trotted over to her bed, pulled a small silver key from under her pillow, and unlocked the very bottom left drawer of her dresser. Quickly, she counted the Pokéballs. She found all of them accounted for. With a sigh of relief, she scooped them out and set them on the dresser and dug around in another drawer until she found the belt clip she kept them in during the day. After she popped them into place, she selected a belt from her closet, threaded it through the loops on her jeans, and snapped on the clip. With her Pokémon where she felt they were safe from Logan and within easy reach, she felt more confident.
After a slight pause to ready herself she padded into the living room, snapping on the light before she remembered that Logan might still be asleep.
When she took a look around, she found out she needn't have worried. The room was empty. Nervously, she checked the kitchen, wondering if he'd finally gotten hungry, but she didn't find him there. By now she was already leaning on panic's verge. Rasha stampeded through the house, frantically trying to locate Logan. At last, she skidded back into the living room, her forehead beading with sweat. Logan had completely disappeared.
"Okay, okay," Rasha told herself. "Don't panic. So he went back to the mountain. He didn't take anything, right? My Pokéballs."
Rasha stopped short; her eyes glued to the kitchen where one cupboard door hung open just a crack. She had overlooked that before in her intent on finding Logan. She trotted into the kitchen and yanked the door open. The cupboard, which had been full before, was totally empty. With an angry, strangled cry, she opened the next one to find it empty, as well. Her anger boiling away now, she flew through the kitchen slamming open cupboard doors. Logan had stolen more than half her own food supply, plus several cans of Pokémon food.
Trying not to scream, Rasha stomped back into the living room. Her fear transformed into pure, raw rage. As she stood trying to figure out what to do now, something lying on the couch attracted her eyes: Logan's Team Rocket uniform, folded neatly into a pile - which meant that he'd also run off with the clothes she'd loaned him.
"Great!" Rasha snapped at the clothes as she bent down to pick up the blanket Logan had been using, which he'd left in a heap on the floor. "Real cute, Logan!" She stomped to the door and yanked it open with a bang. "Real cute! Real funny!"
Once outside, Rasha ripped a Pokéball from her belt as she continued to mutter: "I'll show you, you ungrateful creep." Growling, she enlarged the Pokéball. It was white and black, with flames painted onto the black half. "Houndour!"
White light spilled out of the ball and a small black Pokémon appeared. Houndour looked like a small Doberman, but less wiry and with a bony white plate on her head. She sniffed the air a couple times and turned to Rasha expectantly.
"Here, Houndour! Find the person who was touching this!" Rasha leaned down and held the blanket under the Pokémon's nose.
Houndour wrinkled her nose and sniffed the blanket thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she turned away and began snuffling along with her nose to ground. "Dourrrr!" she barked excitedly, bounding forward a few paces before turning back to see if Rasha was following.
"Good!" Rasha said as she moved to follow her Pokémon. "That's good, Houndour. Lead me right to that thief."
Houndour led Rasha up Mount Iron along the same trail that Rasha had taken when she'd discovered Logan the day before. His blood, still visible, had seeped into the dirt. Grimly, Rasha hoisted herself up onto the level spot close to where she'd seen him first, wondering what she would do if Logan had a weapon. If he only carried Pokémon she had a good chance of taking him, but none of her Pokémon could withstand a gunshot.
All of a sudden Houndour stopped, and Rasha nearly tripped over her. The dog Pokémon had stopped next to an opening in the rock. Rasha peered into it. Quickly, she straightened up and pressed herself against the wall before looking in again, more slowly and cautiously this time.
Logan was sitting cross-legged with his back to the entrance, his attention focused on something in front of him that emitted faint squawking noises; she couldn't see what it was, because his body blocked it from view. "Come on, Isaiah!" she heard him say. There was a loud squawk. "Aw, come on! Don't do this to me!" he fretted. "Look, it's good! See? Gooood formula! Aren't you hungry?"
With a grimace, Rasha straightened up as she pulled a Pokéball for her belt. "Good work, Houndour," she whispered as softly as she could with a nervous sideways glance toward the cave. "Return." A red beam of light shot from the front of the ball, scooping up Houndour and sucking her inside. Rasha snapped the ball back on the belt clip.
From inside the cave came Logan's voice: "What was that?"
Rasha went totally rigid, holding her breath as she pressed herself, quivering, against the mountain's side.
A few more seconds of silence, and then she heard Logan's offhanded chuckle. "I'm insane," he muttered.
An agreeable cheep came from inside the cave, causing Rasha's ears to prick up. What's he got in there? she wondered.
"Yeah, that's right," he told the cheeping thing. "I'm insane, and you are going to eat now, right? Here we go." The anonymous creature squawked indignantly. "Isaiah!" More clamor interrupted Logan's protests.
Finally, Rasha grew impatient with waiting. No sound accompanied her venture into the cave's mouth. Logan didn't even turn around; he was so absorbed with what he was doing.
At last, Rasha said, "Having a little trouble there, Rocket-boy?"
Logan whirled to face the entrance; his black-emerald eyes threw sparks into the cool dark. That sudden movement provoked a loud sound from the unseen party. Rasha craned her neck to catch a glimpse of it, but he quickly threw a dirty blue blanket over it before she could see.
Rasha advanced on him. In his surprise, he'd let slip all mask of composure, allowing her to feel confident as she approached. "I'll be taking back what you stole from me now."
"How'd you get here?" Logan snarled, his voice husky and dangerously low-pitched, arms circled tightly around the struggling form under the blanket as he began to scoot back toward the cave wall. Every muscle in his body shook like a rebellious block of Jell-O. He looked like a shot fox.
Rasha's roving eye swept over the blanket that hid Logan's angry, screeching hostage. "What's that?" she demanded, taking another step towards him.
"Back off!" Logan hissed, his hand flying to his belt. For a second, Rasha's heart stilled - was he reaching for a gun? Instead, Logan's fingers clenched a red-and-white Pokéball. Rasha halted as he pulled his arm back threateningly, ready to throw, but now he only had one hand to keep the blanket over the little captive in his lap. A wrestling match broke out between the creature and Logan's hand. Baring his teeth, Logan turned his body slightly so that his arm partly hid it from her view. "Back off!" he repeated, with less force now that he was partly concentrating on the twisting form. "Or-"
Zhoop! A fuzzy yellow head popped up over the crook of Logan's arm. Yelling in surprise, he frantically tried to throw the blanket back over it, but it was too late. The head popped up again; a long orange beak opened in a questioning peep as slanted black eyes peered at Rasha for the first time. Logan kept his dagger-cold gaze fixed on Rasha, but now she could see the sinking inevitability on his face - the look of a doomed fugitive, caught against a wall, his running at an end.
Rasha couldn't believe what she saw as she stared at the insouciant yellow face peeping over Logan's arm. She'd seen it millions of times in textbooks. Though obviously young, lacking the tremendous power for which humans renowned its adult ancestors, there was no mistaking that face. The face of the very Pokémon she'd come here to study. The face of the legendary Zapdos.
Rasha's amazement suddenly came crashing down as her glittering blue eyes met Logan's dark green ones. "How did you get this Pokémon?" was all she could say.
Logan's answered simply: "I found him."
"Like Hell!" Rasha screamed, the wall that held her temper bursting in an instantaneous explosion. "You just found a Zapdos chick on the ground and said, 'I think I'll take it up to Mount Iron and live it with there?' Why even keep it here, anyway? Why not just tie a frickin' bow around its neck and haul it off to your boss?!"
"I didn't steal him!" Logan roared. "And I wasn't even thinking about taking him to Team Rocket! The only reason I'm taking care of him at all is because his parents are dead!"
"Dead?"
"Yes!"
"And why does that matter to you, you stone-hearted animal?" Rasha shouted, veins in her neck bulging with rage. "You trying to tell me you actually care about this Pokémon? Care to explain why this one is so special to you, you sick, lying, miserable son of a-"
"BECAUSE I'M RESPONSIBLE!" Logan screamed.
Silence filled the cave. The baby Zapdos flattened his feathers and cowered against Logan's heaving chest. Coldness wrapped around the two humans like a blanket as their eyes locked into each other, their wills straining against one another in a deadly, silent struggle.
At last, Rasha said, "You're responsible."
"For his parents' deaths," Logan hissed, forfeiting the staring contest.
Rasha's anger melted. Logan was a member of Team Rocket. someone who tore trainer and Pokémon apart without a hint of remorse, who destroyed friendships with as much sympathy for those he hurt as an earthquake has for the buildings it ruins. But here he had caused the deaths of two legendary creatures, leaving the little one alone, and you could literally see the guilt tearing him apart. Driving him into this cave with no one but the Pokémon. Forcing him to take upon himself the burden of raising the orphaned fledgling.
"When I came in," Rasha said softly after a pause, "you were."
Logan reached behind him and pulled out a small, old-looking plastic bowl filled with a brown liquid that looked like applesauce. "I was trying to get him to eat this formula," he said.
"Didn't you heat it up first?" she inquired.
"I didn't want to hurt him," he muttered. "Besides. I don't have any wood." Setting down the bowl, he grimly locked gazes with her. "You can't call the police."
"Don't worry," Rasha assured him. "I won't tell anyone. But. could you use some help getting him fed?"
Logan wanted to say no, but he forced himself to consider. One last time, he picked up the plastic syringe filled with formula and tried to poke it into Isaiah's beak. The little bird squawked and turned his head away, refusing the food; it was clear he wasn't going to submit easily. Although he told himself he still couldn't trust Rasha very far, maybe she knew some things he didn't about raising baby Pokémon. Maybe she could help him. With a sigh, he made his decision. "All right."
Rasha smiled.
The door to Rasha's house had been left open the entire time she'd been gone. Quickly glancing around to make sure nothing was out of place, Rasha entered. With a cautious look around, Logan slowly stepped in after her with Isaiah cradled in the crook of his left arm. Along with the Pokémon and his food, he juggled two grocery bags bulging with his stolen supplies and his own few possessions. Rasha took the bowl from him as soon as they were inside and led him into the kitchen.
Rasha briskly turned on the tap and dumped the formula down the drain. While the water ran, she opened a drawer and picked up a small digital thermometer. She held the instrument under the stream of water as Logan peered over her shoulder. Bored, Isaiah began to cheep rudely at them and peck at Logan's gray sweatshirt.
"I'm heating the water to about 100 degrees," Rasha explained as she watched the numbers on the thermometer's tiny screen.
"Mm," Logan acknowledged as he tried to pry Isaiah's beak off the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Isaiah chattered indignantly.
While she waited for the water to heat, Rasha took a measuring cup from the same drawer she had gotten the thermometer from and took a clean glass bowl out of a nearby cupboard door. After getting a packet of formula from the bags Logan had set on the counter she scooped up a scoop, leveled it off, and poured it into the bowl before returning to the water. Logan watched attentively from behind her. After several minutes of holding the thermometer under the tap, Rasha picked up the little cup and poured two scoops of water in with the formula powder. She used the thermometer to mix up the slush, pausing to check the thermometer every few seconds. "It should be between 97 and 100 degrees," she told Logan as she stirred. "No hotter, no colder." Logan nodded. Finally, Rasha set down the bowl, picked up the plastic syringe, and drew up 10 CC's of formula. "Put Isaiah down here," she instructed, and Logan carefully plucked the little bird off his shirt with gentle hands and set him on the counter. Taking the syringe in one hand, Rasha quickly poked the end into the corner of Isaiah's beak and shot a bit of formula into his throat. After tasting it, Isaiah squawked loudly and stretched his beak over the end of the syringe, thrusting his head rapidly up and down as Rasha injected more formula into his gullet. They continued that way for several minutes, Rasha squeezing a CC or two into the Zapdos's mouth and then giving him a chance to swallow before going again. When the syringe was empty, she refilled it and gave it to Logan so he could have a try.
Logan gripped the syringe with his fingers and set his thumb against the end of the plunger. Carefully, he pointed it at the corner of Isaiah's mouth as Rasha had done. The bird immediately fastened his beak around the end of it. Logan pressed the plunger hard, forcing a lot of formula into Isaiah's mouth at once. Brown liquid dribbled out of Isaiah's beak and all down his front. Making a face, Logan waited for him to swallow and then injected more slowly this time, allowing Isaiah take his time and eat at his own speed. Soon the syringe was empty again. Isaiah swallowed and then flipped his head back and forth, spattering drops of formula all over the counter and the two humans.
"Lovely," Rasha muttered, looking down at her now spotted T-shirt. She grabbed a washrag to wipe off the counter while Logan rubbed formula off Isaiah's beak with his thumb. "You know what you're doing now?" Rasha asked as she swiped up the formula spatters. Not listening, Logan flipped his hand around, spraying more formula on the counter Rasha had just finished cleaning. "Hey!" Rasha protested. Ignoring her, Logan went back to trying to clean off the uncooperative chick. Growling at him under her breath, Rasha wiped the counter off a second time. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be polite," she grumbled.
"I don't do polite," Logan retorted.
"Well, if you're gonna be staying here, you'd better learn to 'do polite.' Otherwise."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Logan yelped. "Who said anything about me staying here?"
"Well, I just figured that since I'd be helping you raise this Pokémon, it'd be easier--"
"What 'easier'? Look, woman."
"My name is RASHA!" Rasha shouted in his face. "NOT 'woman'! Got that?"
Logan shut up.
"Now, you listen!" Rasha jabbed a finger at Logan. "You can trudge back up to that little cave if you want, but raising a chick up there isn't going to be easy. You want a good living environment for him? Then I suggest you try staying here, at least until you get the hang of this. I don't wanna stay with you anymore than you wanna stay with me, but I also want what's best for Isaiah."
"You've known him for twenty minutes," Logan snipped.
"It doesn't matter! Do you think I like to see baby Pokémon die?"
Furrowing his brow, Logan nibbled a hangnail. Well, he definitely didn't care if he never saw that cave again.
"Well?" Rasha pressed impatiently.
"Wouldja give me a second?" Logan snapped. "I'm thinking. Geezus!"
Growling, Rasha folded her arms across her chest and waited. Finally, Logan sighed.
"Where'm I supposed to sleep?" he snarled shortly.
"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic," Rasha snapped angrily, stomping out of the kitchen. "C'mon, I've got a spare bedroom. I don't know why I'm helping you," she added shortly.
Logan mumbled something under his breath.
Rasha spun back around. "What was that?"
"Noooothing," Logan drawled, scooping up Isaiah.
Rasha snapped off the burner on her stove and blew a cloud of steam away from the metal pot before giving the stew she had been cooking a quick taste test. Satisfied, she ladled some into two small bowls, which she set on the kitchen counter, and called for Logan. "Logan! Dinner!" She waited a couple of minutes, but he didn't answer. Rolling her eyes, she raised her voice a decibel and shouted, "Logan!!"
"Whaaat?" he yelled back from the spare bedroom where he'd spent the entire afternoon.
"Dinner!"
"I'll be there in a minute!" he yelled, sounding annoyed.
Snarling under her breath, Rasha waited. Five minutes later, she called again. "Logan!"
No answer.
Rasha stomped into the living room, but before she made it to the spare bedroom she stopped short with a gasp as she caught sight of the wall on the far side of the room, next to the doorframe leading to the hall.
It was a spider - but definitely not your everyday daddy longlegs. This creature was at least a foot long, was colored bright red with bold black markings and yellow legs, and sported venomous-looking stingers on its head and rear. Its many-faceted purple eyes glimmered weirdly at Rasha's horror-stricken face.
Rasha swallowed her scream with a gulp, wondering how the Ariados had gotten in without her noticing, but thinking much harder about how she was going to get rid of it. Bug Pokémon in general didn't bother her, but this particular breed and its un-evolved cousin, Spinarak, had always given her the creeps. She didn't know if it was the sharp legs or the sharp stingers that got her more, but at the moment she didn't care: she just wanted it gone. All of a sudden, though, an inkling of an answer to the very first question her frantic mind had asked trickled into her brain. Adding some steel to her voice, she called, "Logan?"
No answer.
Rasha clenched her teeth and sucked in a huge breath. "LOGAN!!!"
"What?"
"Come here, please!"
"All right, all right!" he snapped, and she heard his irritated footsteps. In a minute, he emerged from the hall. "Yes?" he said tartly.
Rasha pointed a finger. "What is this?" she demanded tersely.
Logan folded his arms and pretended to study the Pokémon very carefully. "An Ariados," he said matter-of-factly, and turned to go.
Rasha grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back. "I know what it is," she snarled at him. "What's it doing here?"
"He's mine. His name's Weaver." Logan extended his fist toward the Ariados, and the huge arachnid crawled onto his arm.
"Mind telling me what it's doing out of its Pokéball?" Rasha bit out.
"He was just getting some exercise," Logan replied sharply.
"Well, put him back!"
"Aww, come on!" Logan protested. "He's been in there all day long! Haven't you?" he said to Weaver, who responded by clicking his mandibles and uttering strange guttural noises. Rasha cringed. Seeing her nervousness, Logan grinned widely. "You're not afraid of him, are you?" he taunted, thrusting arm and bug toward Rasha's face.
"Knock it off!" Rasha shouted, jumping away. "Put that thing back in its Pokéball now! I don't want it crawling around my house!"
"Gripe, grip, gripe!" Logan grumbled. "C'mon, Weaver." He headed for the bedroom again.
"And when you're done, come have dinner!" Rasha yelled after him.
"I'm not hungry!"
"I made dinner and you're eating it!"
When Logan came back Weaver was not with him, but now Isaiah was sitting on his shoulder and a new Pokémon walked quietly by his right leg. The newcomer was a Raichu: a Pokémon about two and a half feet tall with orange fur, pointed brown ears, and a whip-like tail that ended in a flat plate shaped like a lightning bolt.
"Who's this?" Rasha asked, indicating the Raichu, who stood up straight and studied Rasha in a comically dignified manner.
"Electra, my Raichu," Logan replied.
Electra raised one chocolate-colored paw. "Rai," she greeted simply.
Rasha nodded. "I suppose she and Isaiah are eating with you."
"Yup," he said. "I'm guessing you have Pokémon food.?"
"Yeah," she said. "You should feed Isaiah some formula, too. The same amount as before. Come on, then." She started off toward the kitchen with Logan and company following her. By the time they got there, the stew was too cool to taste good. Ignoring the bowls, Logan found the materials he needed to prepare Isaiah's dinner with Rasha's help and carefully fed the little bird under the young researcher's supervision.
When Isaiah's crop was full, Logan settled lazily into one of the chairs behind a now lukewarm bowl of stew. Electra climbed obediently into the seat next to him, her eyes just barely visible over the table's edge.
After testing the stew's temperature with her index finger, Rasha picked up the bowl and headed to the microwave. Seeing the distaste with which Logan looked at his own food, she offered to heat his up as well. "What does Electra usually eat?" she asked as she carefully fit both bowls into the microwave and set the timer to fifteen seconds.
"She forages," he replied. "She'll eat whatever you give her. She's not picky."
"Okay. What do you mean, she forages?" Rasha inquired as she got out a bowl to for Electra.
"She finds her own food, in the wild. All my Pokémon used to forage. It made things a lot easier for me while I was in the cave."
"Oh," Rasha said, not quite understanding, but also not wanting to press the matter. She really didn't care to know where Logan got his own essentials.
The microwave beeped, signaling that the stew was done. Rasha gave Logan his bowl and Electra her food, and leaned against the counter to eat her own dinner standing up. As she ate her stew, she tried not to stare at Logan, who was quietly eating from his own bowl. I guess eating is the only polite thing he does, she thought dryly. Electra, she noticed, ate with the same quiet manner as her master.
"So," Logan said suddenly. "What do you do?"
"Huh?" Rasha inquired.
"You know. What do you do? For work, I mean."
"Oh," Rasha said. "I'm a researcher. That's why I'm here: to study Pokémon in this area."
"I see," Logan said, sipping the broth of his stew.
"Chu," Electra said, indicating her bowl, which was now empty.
"Done already?" Logan said. "Okay. Just sit and be good until I'm done."
"Rai," the Pokémon said obediently.
"Was Electra your first Pokémon?" Rasha asked, probing for conversation.
"Yeah," Logan said proudly, showing the first sign of interest in talking since she'd met him.
Rasha smiled at Electra. "Did you evolve her from a Pikachu?"
"No," he said. "She was given to me as she is. She was a gift from my brother."
"I see," Rasha said.
Logan finished the last of his stew and set the spoon in the bowl. "I'm going to bed," he said abruptly, standing up. Electra hopped off her chair and followed her master to his room.
Rasha didn't say anything as she watched him disappear down the hallway. For a while she stayed in the kitchen alone, just thinking about everything that had happened to her since just yesterday. Finally, she stood and headed out to the backyard to give her own Pokémon their dinners.
Her hands, which still held the crumpled shirt, dropped softly into her lap. The silence in the dank laundry room magnified the sound of Rasha's breathing. After a couple seconds, she slowly lifted the shirt in front of her face once again. The red R glared back at her.
She'd let a Team Rocket member into her house.
At first all she could be was afraid, but her fear quickly morphed into a crazed sort of anger. Throwing the shirt to the ground, Rasha sprang to her feet and began stomping around the room, searching for some sort of weapon; something she could beat him over the head with so she'd have time to call the police. She couldn't believe she'd put herself and her Pokémon in danger to save a Team Rocket member who didn't even want to be saved in the first place! How could I have been so stupid?! she screamed at herself silently.
Almost bare of objects, the laundry room provided few options. Stifling the urge to scream curse words, she grabbed the best thing she could find: a full bottle of laundry detergent. Though unwieldy, its weight could cause some pain if she hit him on the head with hit. Gathering her nerves, she began to stamp toward the door.
But before she could turn the handle she hesitated, relaxing her grip a bit on the heavy bottle. Rasha's mind insisted that she remove the danger to herself and her Pokémon as quickly as possible, but she couldn't help feeling guilty about attacking someone who was injured, even if Logan was a jerk and a thief. Mental images of his form when she had first discovered him on the mountain flashed back, flattening her anger a bit. Team Rocket member or not, something had really hurt him, and attacking him in this state wouldn't be fair. Besides, he hadn't done anything to her yet, she reminded herself. And it would've been different if he'd broken into her house with the intent to steal, but she'd brought him here without his knowing.
Setting her jaw, Rasha slowly turned on her heel and plodded back into the room, setting the bottle back onto the shelf above the washer before kneeling down and picking up the white shirt, folding it, and placing it on top of Logan's other two pieces of clothing. When she had picked up the entire pile, she took a deep breath to steady herself and headed back out to the room where Logan was still sitting quietly, staring out the window.
Rasha's loud footsteps startled Logan out of his thoughts. Looking a bit confused, he turned his head to look at her as she marched in carrying his clothes. Not knowing what to say, Rasha stopped in front of him and met his gaze with as cold a stare as she could muster. After several long seconds, Logan started to twitch. Finally, he said, "What?"
Rasha's breath came out in a hiss as she tossed the pile of clothes to him. He snatched them out of the air with one hand, carefully unfolding them and laying them out on the couch. When he got to the white shirt, though, he paused thoughtfully and held it at arm's length.
Logan stared at the R. It had been so long since he'd seen it that he'd forgotten about it.
When he finally looked up, Rasha was heading out the door and into the bedroom.
A strange sound from behind her made Rasha pause in the doorway. It took her a couple seconds to recognize the sound of dry laughter.
"What's going on?" he asked wryly. "Isn't this supposed to be the part where you threaten me and call the police?"
Slowly, Rasha spun back around. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.
To her surprise, he seemed to consider that for a second. "Not particularly," he said finally.
"Then don't tempt me."
He cocked one eyebrow at her. "Sure you want to let me stay?"
Raising her brow, she replied, "You don't seem like you're in a stealing mood right now, with those injuries."
A corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a tight snarl-smile. He felt he should make some sort of remark, but couldn't think of anything really clever that wouldn't put him into an even worse situation. Rasha amused him: it was perfectly clear she didn't trust him, but her pity kept her from turning him out. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was a bit intrigued.
Mouth set in a hard line, Rasha spun around and headed into her bedroom. The door shut hard behind her. With a grimace, Logan turned back to his window and tried to relax. He had a long night ahead of him to plot what to do next.
Grunting and stretching, Rasha slowly opened her eyes to the morning sun glaring into her window. With a soft groan, she rolled onto her stomach and stretched hard before reluctantly throwing off her covers and padding in sock feet over to her dresser. Her morning self peered out of the mirror with bleary eyes and hair that stood up all over the place. Making a face, she yanked open a drawer and fumbled for her hairbrush, attacking the frizz until it finally lay flat.
She remembered Logan while she was getting dressed, and wondered if he had even slept last night. With a chill, she received a sudden image of him prowling around her house while she slept, searching for where she kept her Pokéballs. Even though she made sure to lock the Pokéballs up before she went to bed, she had barely slept for worrying that he would try something. When she finished dressing, she trotted over to her bed, pulled a small silver key from under her pillow, and unlocked the very bottom left drawer of her dresser. Quickly, she counted the Pokéballs. She found all of them accounted for. With a sigh of relief, she scooped them out and set them on the dresser and dug around in another drawer until she found the belt clip she kept them in during the day. After she popped them into place, she selected a belt from her closet, threaded it through the loops on her jeans, and snapped on the clip. With her Pokémon where she felt they were safe from Logan and within easy reach, she felt more confident.
After a slight pause to ready herself she padded into the living room, snapping on the light before she remembered that Logan might still be asleep.
When she took a look around, she found out she needn't have worried. The room was empty. Nervously, she checked the kitchen, wondering if he'd finally gotten hungry, but she didn't find him there. By now she was already leaning on panic's verge. Rasha stampeded through the house, frantically trying to locate Logan. At last, she skidded back into the living room, her forehead beading with sweat. Logan had completely disappeared.
"Okay, okay," Rasha told herself. "Don't panic. So he went back to the mountain. He didn't take anything, right? My Pokéballs."
Rasha stopped short; her eyes glued to the kitchen where one cupboard door hung open just a crack. She had overlooked that before in her intent on finding Logan. She trotted into the kitchen and yanked the door open. The cupboard, which had been full before, was totally empty. With an angry, strangled cry, she opened the next one to find it empty, as well. Her anger boiling away now, she flew through the kitchen slamming open cupboard doors. Logan had stolen more than half her own food supply, plus several cans of Pokémon food.
Trying not to scream, Rasha stomped back into the living room. Her fear transformed into pure, raw rage. As she stood trying to figure out what to do now, something lying on the couch attracted her eyes: Logan's Team Rocket uniform, folded neatly into a pile - which meant that he'd also run off with the clothes she'd loaned him.
"Great!" Rasha snapped at the clothes as she bent down to pick up the blanket Logan had been using, which he'd left in a heap on the floor. "Real cute, Logan!" She stomped to the door and yanked it open with a bang. "Real cute! Real funny!"
Once outside, Rasha ripped a Pokéball from her belt as she continued to mutter: "I'll show you, you ungrateful creep." Growling, she enlarged the Pokéball. It was white and black, with flames painted onto the black half. "Houndour!"
White light spilled out of the ball and a small black Pokémon appeared. Houndour looked like a small Doberman, but less wiry and with a bony white plate on her head. She sniffed the air a couple times and turned to Rasha expectantly.
"Here, Houndour! Find the person who was touching this!" Rasha leaned down and held the blanket under the Pokémon's nose.
Houndour wrinkled her nose and sniffed the blanket thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she turned away and began snuffling along with her nose to ground. "Dourrrr!" she barked excitedly, bounding forward a few paces before turning back to see if Rasha was following.
"Good!" Rasha said as she moved to follow her Pokémon. "That's good, Houndour. Lead me right to that thief."
Houndour led Rasha up Mount Iron along the same trail that Rasha had taken when she'd discovered Logan the day before. His blood, still visible, had seeped into the dirt. Grimly, Rasha hoisted herself up onto the level spot close to where she'd seen him first, wondering what she would do if Logan had a weapon. If he only carried Pokémon she had a good chance of taking him, but none of her Pokémon could withstand a gunshot.
All of a sudden Houndour stopped, and Rasha nearly tripped over her. The dog Pokémon had stopped next to an opening in the rock. Rasha peered into it. Quickly, she straightened up and pressed herself against the wall before looking in again, more slowly and cautiously this time.
Logan was sitting cross-legged with his back to the entrance, his attention focused on something in front of him that emitted faint squawking noises; she couldn't see what it was, because his body blocked it from view. "Come on, Isaiah!" she heard him say. There was a loud squawk. "Aw, come on! Don't do this to me!" he fretted. "Look, it's good! See? Gooood formula! Aren't you hungry?"
With a grimace, Rasha straightened up as she pulled a Pokéball for her belt. "Good work, Houndour," she whispered as softly as she could with a nervous sideways glance toward the cave. "Return." A red beam of light shot from the front of the ball, scooping up Houndour and sucking her inside. Rasha snapped the ball back on the belt clip.
From inside the cave came Logan's voice: "What was that?"
Rasha went totally rigid, holding her breath as she pressed herself, quivering, against the mountain's side.
A few more seconds of silence, and then she heard Logan's offhanded chuckle. "I'm insane," he muttered.
An agreeable cheep came from inside the cave, causing Rasha's ears to prick up. What's he got in there? she wondered.
"Yeah, that's right," he told the cheeping thing. "I'm insane, and you are going to eat now, right? Here we go." The anonymous creature squawked indignantly. "Isaiah!" More clamor interrupted Logan's protests.
Finally, Rasha grew impatient with waiting. No sound accompanied her venture into the cave's mouth. Logan didn't even turn around; he was so absorbed with what he was doing.
At last, Rasha said, "Having a little trouble there, Rocket-boy?"
Logan whirled to face the entrance; his black-emerald eyes threw sparks into the cool dark. That sudden movement provoked a loud sound from the unseen party. Rasha craned her neck to catch a glimpse of it, but he quickly threw a dirty blue blanket over it before she could see.
Rasha advanced on him. In his surprise, he'd let slip all mask of composure, allowing her to feel confident as she approached. "I'll be taking back what you stole from me now."
"How'd you get here?" Logan snarled, his voice husky and dangerously low-pitched, arms circled tightly around the struggling form under the blanket as he began to scoot back toward the cave wall. Every muscle in his body shook like a rebellious block of Jell-O. He looked like a shot fox.
Rasha's roving eye swept over the blanket that hid Logan's angry, screeching hostage. "What's that?" she demanded, taking another step towards him.
"Back off!" Logan hissed, his hand flying to his belt. For a second, Rasha's heart stilled - was he reaching for a gun? Instead, Logan's fingers clenched a red-and-white Pokéball. Rasha halted as he pulled his arm back threateningly, ready to throw, but now he only had one hand to keep the blanket over the little captive in his lap. A wrestling match broke out between the creature and Logan's hand. Baring his teeth, Logan turned his body slightly so that his arm partly hid it from her view. "Back off!" he repeated, with less force now that he was partly concentrating on the twisting form. "Or-"
Zhoop! A fuzzy yellow head popped up over the crook of Logan's arm. Yelling in surprise, he frantically tried to throw the blanket back over it, but it was too late. The head popped up again; a long orange beak opened in a questioning peep as slanted black eyes peered at Rasha for the first time. Logan kept his dagger-cold gaze fixed on Rasha, but now she could see the sinking inevitability on his face - the look of a doomed fugitive, caught against a wall, his running at an end.
Rasha couldn't believe what she saw as she stared at the insouciant yellow face peeping over Logan's arm. She'd seen it millions of times in textbooks. Though obviously young, lacking the tremendous power for which humans renowned its adult ancestors, there was no mistaking that face. The face of the very Pokémon she'd come here to study. The face of the legendary Zapdos.
Rasha's amazement suddenly came crashing down as her glittering blue eyes met Logan's dark green ones. "How did you get this Pokémon?" was all she could say.
Logan's answered simply: "I found him."
"Like Hell!" Rasha screamed, the wall that held her temper bursting in an instantaneous explosion. "You just found a Zapdos chick on the ground and said, 'I think I'll take it up to Mount Iron and live it with there?' Why even keep it here, anyway? Why not just tie a frickin' bow around its neck and haul it off to your boss?!"
"I didn't steal him!" Logan roared. "And I wasn't even thinking about taking him to Team Rocket! The only reason I'm taking care of him at all is because his parents are dead!"
"Dead?"
"Yes!"
"And why does that matter to you, you stone-hearted animal?" Rasha shouted, veins in her neck bulging with rage. "You trying to tell me you actually care about this Pokémon? Care to explain why this one is so special to you, you sick, lying, miserable son of a-"
"BECAUSE I'M RESPONSIBLE!" Logan screamed.
Silence filled the cave. The baby Zapdos flattened his feathers and cowered against Logan's heaving chest. Coldness wrapped around the two humans like a blanket as their eyes locked into each other, their wills straining against one another in a deadly, silent struggle.
At last, Rasha said, "You're responsible."
"For his parents' deaths," Logan hissed, forfeiting the staring contest.
Rasha's anger melted. Logan was a member of Team Rocket. someone who tore trainer and Pokémon apart without a hint of remorse, who destroyed friendships with as much sympathy for those he hurt as an earthquake has for the buildings it ruins. But here he had caused the deaths of two legendary creatures, leaving the little one alone, and you could literally see the guilt tearing him apart. Driving him into this cave with no one but the Pokémon. Forcing him to take upon himself the burden of raising the orphaned fledgling.
"When I came in," Rasha said softly after a pause, "you were."
Logan reached behind him and pulled out a small, old-looking plastic bowl filled with a brown liquid that looked like applesauce. "I was trying to get him to eat this formula," he said.
"Didn't you heat it up first?" she inquired.
"I didn't want to hurt him," he muttered. "Besides. I don't have any wood." Setting down the bowl, he grimly locked gazes with her. "You can't call the police."
"Don't worry," Rasha assured him. "I won't tell anyone. But. could you use some help getting him fed?"
Logan wanted to say no, but he forced himself to consider. One last time, he picked up the plastic syringe filled with formula and tried to poke it into Isaiah's beak. The little bird squawked and turned his head away, refusing the food; it was clear he wasn't going to submit easily. Although he told himself he still couldn't trust Rasha very far, maybe she knew some things he didn't about raising baby Pokémon. Maybe she could help him. With a sigh, he made his decision. "All right."
Rasha smiled.
The door to Rasha's house had been left open the entire time she'd been gone. Quickly glancing around to make sure nothing was out of place, Rasha entered. With a cautious look around, Logan slowly stepped in after her with Isaiah cradled in the crook of his left arm. Along with the Pokémon and his food, he juggled two grocery bags bulging with his stolen supplies and his own few possessions. Rasha took the bowl from him as soon as they were inside and led him into the kitchen.
Rasha briskly turned on the tap and dumped the formula down the drain. While the water ran, she opened a drawer and picked up a small digital thermometer. She held the instrument under the stream of water as Logan peered over her shoulder. Bored, Isaiah began to cheep rudely at them and peck at Logan's gray sweatshirt.
"I'm heating the water to about 100 degrees," Rasha explained as she watched the numbers on the thermometer's tiny screen.
"Mm," Logan acknowledged as he tried to pry Isaiah's beak off the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Isaiah chattered indignantly.
While she waited for the water to heat, Rasha took a measuring cup from the same drawer she had gotten the thermometer from and took a clean glass bowl out of a nearby cupboard door. After getting a packet of formula from the bags Logan had set on the counter she scooped up a scoop, leveled it off, and poured it into the bowl before returning to the water. Logan watched attentively from behind her. After several minutes of holding the thermometer under the tap, Rasha picked up the little cup and poured two scoops of water in with the formula powder. She used the thermometer to mix up the slush, pausing to check the thermometer every few seconds. "It should be between 97 and 100 degrees," she told Logan as she stirred. "No hotter, no colder." Logan nodded. Finally, Rasha set down the bowl, picked up the plastic syringe, and drew up 10 CC's of formula. "Put Isaiah down here," she instructed, and Logan carefully plucked the little bird off his shirt with gentle hands and set him on the counter. Taking the syringe in one hand, Rasha quickly poked the end into the corner of Isaiah's beak and shot a bit of formula into his throat. After tasting it, Isaiah squawked loudly and stretched his beak over the end of the syringe, thrusting his head rapidly up and down as Rasha injected more formula into his gullet. They continued that way for several minutes, Rasha squeezing a CC or two into the Zapdos's mouth and then giving him a chance to swallow before going again. When the syringe was empty, she refilled it and gave it to Logan so he could have a try.
Logan gripped the syringe with his fingers and set his thumb against the end of the plunger. Carefully, he pointed it at the corner of Isaiah's mouth as Rasha had done. The bird immediately fastened his beak around the end of it. Logan pressed the plunger hard, forcing a lot of formula into Isaiah's mouth at once. Brown liquid dribbled out of Isaiah's beak and all down his front. Making a face, Logan waited for him to swallow and then injected more slowly this time, allowing Isaiah take his time and eat at his own speed. Soon the syringe was empty again. Isaiah swallowed and then flipped his head back and forth, spattering drops of formula all over the counter and the two humans.
"Lovely," Rasha muttered, looking down at her now spotted T-shirt. She grabbed a washrag to wipe off the counter while Logan rubbed formula off Isaiah's beak with his thumb. "You know what you're doing now?" Rasha asked as she swiped up the formula spatters. Not listening, Logan flipped his hand around, spraying more formula on the counter Rasha had just finished cleaning. "Hey!" Rasha protested. Ignoring her, Logan went back to trying to clean off the uncooperative chick. Growling at him under her breath, Rasha wiped the counter off a second time. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be polite," she grumbled.
"I don't do polite," Logan retorted.
"Well, if you're gonna be staying here, you'd better learn to 'do polite.' Otherwise."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Logan yelped. "Who said anything about me staying here?"
"Well, I just figured that since I'd be helping you raise this Pokémon, it'd be easier--"
"What 'easier'? Look, woman."
"My name is RASHA!" Rasha shouted in his face. "NOT 'woman'! Got that?"
Logan shut up.
"Now, you listen!" Rasha jabbed a finger at Logan. "You can trudge back up to that little cave if you want, but raising a chick up there isn't going to be easy. You want a good living environment for him? Then I suggest you try staying here, at least until you get the hang of this. I don't wanna stay with you anymore than you wanna stay with me, but I also want what's best for Isaiah."
"You've known him for twenty minutes," Logan snipped.
"It doesn't matter! Do you think I like to see baby Pokémon die?"
Furrowing his brow, Logan nibbled a hangnail. Well, he definitely didn't care if he never saw that cave again.
"Well?" Rasha pressed impatiently.
"Wouldja give me a second?" Logan snapped. "I'm thinking. Geezus!"
Growling, Rasha folded her arms across her chest and waited. Finally, Logan sighed.
"Where'm I supposed to sleep?" he snarled shortly.
"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic," Rasha snapped angrily, stomping out of the kitchen. "C'mon, I've got a spare bedroom. I don't know why I'm helping you," she added shortly.
Logan mumbled something under his breath.
Rasha spun back around. "What was that?"
"Noooothing," Logan drawled, scooping up Isaiah.
Rasha snapped off the burner on her stove and blew a cloud of steam away from the metal pot before giving the stew she had been cooking a quick taste test. Satisfied, she ladled some into two small bowls, which she set on the kitchen counter, and called for Logan. "Logan! Dinner!" She waited a couple of minutes, but he didn't answer. Rolling her eyes, she raised her voice a decibel and shouted, "Logan!!"
"Whaaat?" he yelled back from the spare bedroom where he'd spent the entire afternoon.
"Dinner!"
"I'll be there in a minute!" he yelled, sounding annoyed.
Snarling under her breath, Rasha waited. Five minutes later, she called again. "Logan!"
No answer.
Rasha stomped into the living room, but before she made it to the spare bedroom she stopped short with a gasp as she caught sight of the wall on the far side of the room, next to the doorframe leading to the hall.
It was a spider - but definitely not your everyday daddy longlegs. This creature was at least a foot long, was colored bright red with bold black markings and yellow legs, and sported venomous-looking stingers on its head and rear. Its many-faceted purple eyes glimmered weirdly at Rasha's horror-stricken face.
Rasha swallowed her scream with a gulp, wondering how the Ariados had gotten in without her noticing, but thinking much harder about how she was going to get rid of it. Bug Pokémon in general didn't bother her, but this particular breed and its un-evolved cousin, Spinarak, had always given her the creeps. She didn't know if it was the sharp legs or the sharp stingers that got her more, but at the moment she didn't care: she just wanted it gone. All of a sudden, though, an inkling of an answer to the very first question her frantic mind had asked trickled into her brain. Adding some steel to her voice, she called, "Logan?"
No answer.
Rasha clenched her teeth and sucked in a huge breath. "LOGAN!!!"
"What?"
"Come here, please!"
"All right, all right!" he snapped, and she heard his irritated footsteps. In a minute, he emerged from the hall. "Yes?" he said tartly.
Rasha pointed a finger. "What is this?" she demanded tersely.
Logan folded his arms and pretended to study the Pokémon very carefully. "An Ariados," he said matter-of-factly, and turned to go.
Rasha grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back. "I know what it is," she snarled at him. "What's it doing here?"
"He's mine. His name's Weaver." Logan extended his fist toward the Ariados, and the huge arachnid crawled onto his arm.
"Mind telling me what it's doing out of its Pokéball?" Rasha bit out.
"He was just getting some exercise," Logan replied sharply.
"Well, put him back!"
"Aww, come on!" Logan protested. "He's been in there all day long! Haven't you?" he said to Weaver, who responded by clicking his mandibles and uttering strange guttural noises. Rasha cringed. Seeing her nervousness, Logan grinned widely. "You're not afraid of him, are you?" he taunted, thrusting arm and bug toward Rasha's face.
"Knock it off!" Rasha shouted, jumping away. "Put that thing back in its Pokéball now! I don't want it crawling around my house!"
"Gripe, grip, gripe!" Logan grumbled. "C'mon, Weaver." He headed for the bedroom again.
"And when you're done, come have dinner!" Rasha yelled after him.
"I'm not hungry!"
"I made dinner and you're eating it!"
When Logan came back Weaver was not with him, but now Isaiah was sitting on his shoulder and a new Pokémon walked quietly by his right leg. The newcomer was a Raichu: a Pokémon about two and a half feet tall with orange fur, pointed brown ears, and a whip-like tail that ended in a flat plate shaped like a lightning bolt.
"Who's this?" Rasha asked, indicating the Raichu, who stood up straight and studied Rasha in a comically dignified manner.
"Electra, my Raichu," Logan replied.
Electra raised one chocolate-colored paw. "Rai," she greeted simply.
Rasha nodded. "I suppose she and Isaiah are eating with you."
"Yup," he said. "I'm guessing you have Pokémon food.?"
"Yeah," she said. "You should feed Isaiah some formula, too. The same amount as before. Come on, then." She started off toward the kitchen with Logan and company following her. By the time they got there, the stew was too cool to taste good. Ignoring the bowls, Logan found the materials he needed to prepare Isaiah's dinner with Rasha's help and carefully fed the little bird under the young researcher's supervision.
When Isaiah's crop was full, Logan settled lazily into one of the chairs behind a now lukewarm bowl of stew. Electra climbed obediently into the seat next to him, her eyes just barely visible over the table's edge.
After testing the stew's temperature with her index finger, Rasha picked up the bowl and headed to the microwave. Seeing the distaste with which Logan looked at his own food, she offered to heat his up as well. "What does Electra usually eat?" she asked as she carefully fit both bowls into the microwave and set the timer to fifteen seconds.
"She forages," he replied. "She'll eat whatever you give her. She's not picky."
"Okay. What do you mean, she forages?" Rasha inquired as she got out a bowl to for Electra.
"She finds her own food, in the wild. All my Pokémon used to forage. It made things a lot easier for me while I was in the cave."
"Oh," Rasha said, not quite understanding, but also not wanting to press the matter. She really didn't care to know where Logan got his own essentials.
The microwave beeped, signaling that the stew was done. Rasha gave Logan his bowl and Electra her food, and leaned against the counter to eat her own dinner standing up. As she ate her stew, she tried not to stare at Logan, who was quietly eating from his own bowl. I guess eating is the only polite thing he does, she thought dryly. Electra, she noticed, ate with the same quiet manner as her master.
"So," Logan said suddenly. "What do you do?"
"Huh?" Rasha inquired.
"You know. What do you do? For work, I mean."
"Oh," Rasha said. "I'm a researcher. That's why I'm here: to study Pokémon in this area."
"I see," Logan said, sipping the broth of his stew.
"Chu," Electra said, indicating her bowl, which was now empty.
"Done already?" Logan said. "Okay. Just sit and be good until I'm done."
"Rai," the Pokémon said obediently.
"Was Electra your first Pokémon?" Rasha asked, probing for conversation.
"Yeah," Logan said proudly, showing the first sign of interest in talking since she'd met him.
Rasha smiled at Electra. "Did you evolve her from a Pikachu?"
"No," he said. "She was given to me as she is. She was a gift from my brother."
"I see," Rasha said.
Logan finished the last of his stew and set the spoon in the bowl. "I'm going to bed," he said abruptly, standing up. Electra hopped off her chair and followed her master to his room.
Rasha didn't say anything as she watched him disappear down the hallway. For a while she stayed in the kitchen alone, just thinking about everything that had happened to her since just yesterday. Finally, she stood and headed out to the backyard to give her own Pokémon their dinners.