Author's Notes: More reviews! I can't get enough of them! Thank you all! As for the whole flowers thing, I'm glad you liked it, because I felt for some reason that it was a little cliché. There's more on that in this chapter, actually.

This chapter marks the essential end of the "exposition" of this fanfic. Later chapters will generally be longer and include more action as events begin a more steady climb towards the climax.

Chapter Seven: The Meadow

After several hours of meditation, the Nintales suddenly sat upright. She had the answer. How simple!

She chuckled to herself as she stood once again, stretching and settling down to groom her mussed fur. She went over the plan again in her mind as her tongue slid over her fur. As it turned out, she would have to rely neither on herself nor on the island's other inhabitants to bring the errant Jeremy and that human trainer back to the isle. Tonight, she would wait for Grottlis down near the water's edge, where he always appeared. She knew that she could trust him to understand the situation and hunt down the escapees.

Grottlis was a Gengar, a wandering soul who drifted across the world. He haunted the Nintales' island as regularly as clockwork, at almost midnight, when the moon neared it's apex. He appeared mysteriously at the water's edge, his glowing red eyes piercing the darkness with their eerie light. Grottlis had been the only one who cared for the Ninetales when, so many years ago, she had found herself alone and unwanted.

The Ninetales pushed that thought away out of habit, looking over her coat. She was satisfied with the grooming job that she had done, and so set off for an afternoon walk. Her mind whirled with happy thoughts, with satisfaction and sweet visions of revenge. She was oblivious to the happenings around her and didn't even notice as the forest once again went silent as she passed through it. Though she wasn't running full-tilt through the trees, encompassed by a fiery fury, the animals of the forest knew their Mistress' moods to be mercurial and odd, and the Cursed knew never to show their whiskered, feathered, or scaly faces in her presence.

Though she had been wandering aimlessly, the Ninetales found herself at the edge of a place that she knew all too well. Here, the forest changed abruptly. The trees thinned and finally gave way to a little meadow, filled with wildflowers and tall grass. The vengeful thoughts vanished from the Ninetales' mind as she surveyed the field and a smoldering rage slowly crept into their place. For reasons unknown, this place was beyond the reach of her magic. It was placed oddly, nearly at the island's center, at the base of the huge cliff that ruled its northern half.

The Ninetales scornfully stepped across the invisible boundary that separated her domain from this odd island upon an island, the place encompassed by her influence and yet free from it. The familiar tingle of magic shivered from her muzzle to the tips of her nine tails as she stepped out and into the place that seemed terribly familiar and yet completely alien.

To her annoyance, the Ninetales felt her anger slowly evaporate as she walked amongst the thinning trees. Something about this place seemed to dull her rage, as it banked her magic. As she entered the tall grass, the Ninetales found herself suddenly contemplating one of the meadow's flowers.

She didn't know the name of it, and so simply called it the fire-flower. To most it would have appeared a rampant weed, with thick, thorny branches. But these spiny protuberances were adorned with small, beautiful flowers. Their petals were oddly shaped, almost jagged. This, combined with the fact that they were a brilliant orange color, put the Ninetales in mind of tiny tongues of flame.

For some reason, the Ninetales found herself making excuses that allowed her to stay for a long time in the small meadow. Though she would never admit it to anyone, least of all herself, this place somehow put her at peace, the one area where she truly felt at home.