Alright, people, you're gonna have to deal with this: I'm just going to write this chapter and be done. I'm in a bad mood, and a lazy mood. Thank you for all the people who reviewed, but I'd really rather not hurt your feelings by giving you snappy replies. Once I've obtained a better mood (not the aforementioned lazy and bad), you'll get them. Promise.
Warning: Badly Written 'Fear Fluffiness' as I call it. Which means it just basically sounds dumb. Too bad.
Ah, yes. By the way, Kuro is the center of this chapter…it's still in Third Person, but it's also kind of from the Poochyana's Point of View.
There is almost NO dialogue in this chapter…it's sort of a hint, or an in-between thing…
As Phillip and Gaika strode along the short path to Oldale in silence, a presense much akin to a rising storm passed through the air. Kuro stiffened, his nose quivering in all directions in the hopes of tempting up a scent. Finding none, the Poochyana howled quietly.
Fear stilled his breath and the world seemed to freeze, as the feeling grew closer. It was not an ordinary, horror-movie chill that comes before the mist settles and monsters jump from the dark, but a consuming, hungry fear, of everything. The grass looked like demons, for heavens sake.
Above Kuro, the kind girl with the brown hair shuddered. Her Pokemon drew closer to her, half out of loyalty, but smothered by dread.
The group began to walk more slowly. No panic, just an acceptance of something terrible about to happen.
Phillip let out a sort off "Wahah!" which rose and died in his throat as he realized the object of his—what else?—fear was nothing more then a Wurmple, shuddering with it's own fright.
A shape rose ahead, terrifying to behold in the early twilight, before they realized it was the first of Oldale Town's house. The sun brightened. Terror died away at the first sight of the cheerful gardens and people chattering happily. The fear didn't want to come here, as if it was frightened of the smiles and the flowers.
Off in the distance, two figures withdrew into themselves, vanishing, though they hadn't been seen in the first place. They could not come near the small, close-knit town, only wait for the next lone traveler to lure into the Fear. The travler that would be going away the town, away from flowers and laughter. Things like that…these figures didn't like them. Flowers didn't help Fear, laughter only hindered it.
As the departed, the figures licked their lips in anticipation. They loved it.
Fear.