Dusk was drawing to an end. The brilliant hues of pink and red had faded, with only the faintest traces of light remaining in the sky. Across the horizon there were only deep blues that lingered, and they melted into the inky blackness of the east. The stars glimmered on their dark canvas, and the pale light of a crescent moon cast dark shadows across the flat terrain of the meadow. Cybele admired the heavens from her position just free from what seemed to her like infinite darkness cast by the chinaberry tree, feeling insignificant compared to the celestial bodies that floated above her. She was but a mere Rattata, intimidated by creatures as tiny as humans. She had never been beyond the confines of the field; she had never needed anything that she couldn't find there.
There was a slight rustling in the grass behind her, and she turned. She saw a pair of eyes peering through the long blades of grass, like bright red gems in a dark, desolate world. It was Yitro. He settled himself beside his mother, his large, swelled belly protruding from his round figure. They did not speak, but instead tried to comprehend infinity. The sky looked into infinity, yet it did not seem a just representation. It was a distance which a small Pokémon could not understand in any way. Her thoughts drifted once more to him; he was the only thing which she could ever compare to infinity, the only thing that could give her a hold on what such immensity might mean. Her undying love for him was infinite. The wish that she could once again nuzzle him in a calm night, when the only sound the disrupted the silence that blanketed the landscape was the occasional faint hooting of a Hoothoot.
Yitro possessed a quality that seemed to sedate Cybele. He was not like Regina, in that she was most comfortable with conversation, while Yitro enjoyed the silence. It was not something that Cybele had the privilege of enjoying often since she was constantly being questioned by her children about this and that. She longed to bring herself closer to her son, to close her eyes and imagine that it was not he whom she snuggled with, but her long-gone beloved. But when she reexamined the thought, she found that it would only upset her further. Regina had long advised her to let go, but she wanted to hold on. The thought that he might one day return was a concept that she could not release. If she lost her faith, she felt that she would lose everything. Not even Regina could understand that.
Cybele heard the faint murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps. The babble grew louder as the approaching figures grew closer, although when Cybele looked in the direction she could see nothing but a cluster of shadows. Her children approaching was comparable to a car wreck bound to happen, but was inevitable to avoid. Yitro lifted his bulky frame and disappeared into the blackness beneath the shade of the chinaberry tree. He had never appreciated the company of his siblings. Cybele too stood, waiting for her offspring to come to her. She yawned, finding herself exhausted. Her eyelids felt as if they were lined with lead, and she longed to sleep, curled up with all of her beautiful children surrounding her.
"Mama," said Tadeo, "what's the name of this field? 'Cause I was talkin' with a Spearow and it was sayin' that all these places got names."
"Mama," continued Yasmin, "we were all talkin' with the Spearow, and I told it that the field was called home. He thought that was real funny!"
"Yeah, Mama!" added Rangsey, "He said, 'A field called home? Now that's the silliest thing I've ever heard!'"
She smiled at how her children fretted over something so trivial. They eagerly awaited her answer, which she was in no hurry to give. She thought over the question and realized that she did not actually know what the name of the meadow in which they lived in. It had never occurred to her to find out; it was home. She had never traveled from it so there was no reason for her to refer to it as anything but home. The silence continued, the anticipation of her children filling the air, as she drew it out for melodramatic effect. Cybele had always had a tendency to want to say something that would dazzle her audience, and it was situations such as these which gave her a peculiar thrill.
"That Spearow doesn't know what he's talking about," she informed her children, "this field is called home. It always has been, and it always will be."
"I toldja!" interjected Yasmin, "I toldja the field was called home!"
"Don't get all cocky, Yasmin," warned Naff, "or me and Chi are gonna bite at your toes to get you up in the morning!" Yasmin looked deeply offended and strode away.
"Be nice to your sister, now," said Cybele in a serious, maternal tone. Naff mumbled an apology and disappeared after Yasmin. The rest of the children talked idly for several minutes of the day's events and milled about in the darkness until they all came to the conclusion that they were very tired and wanted to go to sleep. Cybele was far from being opposed to this proposition, and they all chose to seek comfort beneath the chinaberry tree.
They nestled closely together near the trunk of the tree. Cybele laid her head on the soft belly of one of her children, feeling his chest slowly heave as he inhaled and exhaled his breaths. It was a slow, steady rhythm that Cybele soon found herself in synch with. It seemed that, as sleep began to overcome her, that everything was synchronized in that one moment before she slipped into unconsciousness. For that one fleeting moment everything was purposeful, it all suddenly made sense to her. It was a moment that she soon forgot.
A hazy fog enveloped Cybele. She could barely make out the features that surrounded her. She saw a shadow move from the corner of her eye. Tense, she turned about and watched the shadow. It moved slowly, unsurely, with an evident limp. It was not an unfamiliar silhouette that was formed, for it was one of a fellow Rattata. She dug her claws into the earth beneath her, which was cool and firm, like clay. She could almost smell the fear in the air, the unsettling heaviness that dominated the vicinity.
She felt a puff of warm air brush against the back of her neck, sending tingles down her spine. She shuddered and saw that the shadow was no longer within her plane of view. She turned towards where the breath had originated and saw a face. It was a most welcome face, with its familiar, friendly features. Suddenly, the fear, the heaviness, the uncertainty died away. In its wake was a warmness which Cybele found foreign to her, for she had not felt it in such a long time. It was a sense of completeness, a feeling of everything that she had experienced in that one moment before she fell asleep. It was a feeling that she had felt every night before she fell asleep, but had never noticed. However, it was undeniable now.
The fog faded, revealing a brilliant terrain. They were in a fabulous valley, even more magnificent than the one in which she called home. Dogwood trees bore pink and white blossoms, which occasionally drifted towards the vibrant, thriving grasses. There were wildflowers strewn along the edges of the valley, with colors ranging from pale yellows to rich, majestic purples. Beyond the valley was a forest, with handsome, broadleaf trees mixed with pines and thick shrubbery. The landscape was brilliantly untainted by human hands, a sense of wildness that made her feel exquisitely alive. The perfume of jasmine filled the lightness of the air, and soon she saw that she trod upon the white blossoms of the flower, replacing the clay which she had stood upon only moments before.
"Oh, my love, if only you knew how long I have waited for this day," she murmured, nuzzling her mate. Birds serenaded the reunited lovers from somewhere in the distance, their joyful tune echoing through the immensity of infinity. Nothing could possibly destroy this; Cybele was in a heavenly delirium.
"My dear, I fear that we must part again."
Cybele cried out in exasperation. She opened her eyes and saw that her children were all looking down upon her, smothering her with their close proximity. She stared upon them all blankly for several moments, training to gather her thoughts. It had all been a dream. An eerie feeling enveloped her. She could still taste the sweetness of the air, smell the jasmine, see the dogwood trees, hear the birds—but it was only her mind which had caused her to sense all of this. It was a disappointment beyond any which she had ever felt.
"Mama's gone mad," whispered Sapphire.