A/N - Thanks for all reads, reviews, faves and follows! =D I finished the main story of Pokemon Scarlet this week. Man it's such a good game! I'm looking forward to seeing how the competitive scene plays out with the Terrastral mechanic. (I'm also wondering how I can incorporate that in a future story, too...)

60 - Wisps on the Wind

"There!" Melody rinsed her paws in a basin of water. "All changed! Hopefully that new cast will be a little less clunky."

Cleo flexed her leg, clenching her jaw at the stiffness. The new bandage was definitely less clunky. It was firm, as it needed to be, but only took up the lower part of her leg beneath the knee. That's where the break had been. Thankfully the rest of her leg had only been bruised.

"Thanks, Melody," said Cleo.

The audino nodded and towelled off her paws. "You should be able to walk a bit better now. Doing so will help your recovery, but take it easy for a week or so."

Cleo grit her teeth. "That won't really be possible. I need to head out."

Melody's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Head out? Cleo, you can't work on that leg."

"It's urgent." Cleo pushed herself from the bed, stepping gingerly on her leg to test it. Much to her delight it held her weight. "I won't be gone long. Hopefully no more than two days."

"Cleo… if you push yourself too much you'll end up spending many more weeks in this ward."

"I won't," Cleo told her. "I'll take it easy. I won't do anything silly." When Melody didn't back down, Cleo added, "This is too urgent. Believe me, if I felt I had the time to rest I would. But this really can't wait."

Melody let out a flustered breath. "Fine. But don't go alone. And take your crutch."

Cleo blinked, holding back the urge to tell her that she certainly was planning on going alone and had no intention of taking her crutch.

"I'm warning you," Melody continued. "I know what you're like. And if you experience any pain, rest and eat some sitrus berries. Do not push yourself."

Cleo obediently reached for her crutch as Melody turned her back on her to carry the basin away, all the while muttering about stubborn guild warriors. Cleo had expected her to put up more of a fight, but she guessed Melody was used to her advice falling on deaf ears. The Darkness was an ever present threat, leaving little room for recovery. Now that Yveltal had awoken, the need for readiness was more pressing than ever.

Cleo made her way to the elevator, making the effort to use her leg. She kept the crutch under one arm and clambered into the elevator, wincing at the ache in her bones. She needed to find Tinker and get the collar back, then find Spark and Faith to let them know where she was going. Two days had passed since she'd asked Tinker to fix that collar. That was two days more than she'd wanted to waste lying around. She desperately hoped Mischief would still be in the mountains.

Her first stop was Tinker's office. She hobbled to a stop before his closed door and stared up at it. She'd not seen him since she'd dropped the collar off. He'd been hovering around the hospital ward every day since she'd returned, fussing over her constantly. But the past two days she'd not seen so much as a whisker. The door itself carried an air of foreboding, and Cleo swallowed loudly as she raised a paw to knock. Tinker wouldn't be the slightest bit happy she was going out with a wounded leg.

"Come in." His voice sounded oddly light.

Cleo pushed the door open, spotting the riolu sitting with his back to his desk. Tinker and Sandpaw looked up as she entered, and both of them lit up instantly.

"Ahh, Cleo!" said Skipper. "Ye lookin' a wee bit better now ye outta yon lumpy cast, aye?"

Sandpaw gave her a small smile. "You are looking well."

"Thanks," said Cleo. "How are the boys?"

"Prob'ly stuffin' their faces in th'dinin' hall," said Skipper. Then with a grin at Sandpaw he added, "Whatever keeps th'wee nyaffs outta trouble, aye?"

"At least they're happy." Sandpaw shuffled her feet on the floor and glanced away from him.

Cleo raised an eyebrow. Something was clearly on the furret's mind, but Cleo shook it off. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

She turned to Tinker and cleared her throat. "I'm here about that collar."

"Of course." Tinker swivelled his chair around and reached into his desk drawer. "I've made the modifications you requested. It should work just fine."

Cleo took it from him and tucked it away in her bag.

Tinker eyed her leg. "So when do you plan to leave? In a week?"

"Now."

Tinker's jaw dropped. "Now? But your leg-"

"Is just fine." Cleo met his gaze. "I can't waste anymore time, Tinker. I need to find Mischief before we lose his trail."

Tinker gave a derisive snort. "You can't expect to go clambering over a mountain in your condition!"

Cleo opened her mouth to retort.

"Tink's right, ye ken," said Skipper. "All them rocks 'n' streams. Ye'll be slippin' 'bout like a magikarp climin' a waterfall, sure enough."

"I'll be fine," said Cleo. "I'll go slow, and I won't push myself."

Tinker waved her off and turned back to his friends. "Very well. If you're not back in a week I'll send out a search party to drag home whatever's left of you."

Cleo grunted and narrowed her eyes. "Two days."

"What?"

"I'll be back in two days." Cleo adjusted her bag over her shoulder. "If I'm not, have Spark and Faith come looking for me. Let them bring Harlequin, too. She has a good nose."

Tinker rolled his eyes. "Cleo-"

"I didn't come here to argue," Cleo told him. "I'll see you when I get back."

She turned to leave, but Tinker's voice stopped her. "I hope you do find Mischief, Cleo."

"Thanks," she said, unable to hide her surprise.

"I only hope that collar doesn't hurt his already fragile self-esteem."

Cleo bit her lip. Whether or not that had been a jab at her intentions, the riolu made a very good point. She took in a long breath. "I won't know unless I try. All I know is he won't come with me if he thinks he'll hurt someone."

"I'm aware of that." Tinker looked up at her, catching her eye. "Just be careful. Please."

She nodded once and left the room, closing the door behind her. Her heart ached and she leaned her back against the door. Her paw went to her bag, fastening over the lump where the collar sat. Was she doing the right thing?

...

The mountains were as quiet as Cleo remembered them. Cold air whipped at her fur as she scrambled over the uneven terrain. She could still hear Spark's protests as she followed Cleo through the tunnels of New City with Faith. Both had understood why she couldn't bring them along, but they'd been worried for her. Their worries had eased when they saw how much easier Cleo was walking. They'd agreed to come looking for her if she wasn't back within two days. Cleo didn't plan for that to happen.

Two days.

The sun was already high above her, threatening to set on the other side of the mountains.

Her leg was beginning to ache with a dull throb as she pressed on at a steady pace. She knew she'd need to rest soon, but doing so would cost her valuable time. She inspected every crevice and burrow she passed, and paused to scan the outcrops below her. The emptiness of the mountains made her feel hollow inside.

Harlequin had told her that Mischief had headed towards the mountains, but that had been a while ago now. What if he'd moved on? Cleo clenched her teeth at the thought, resisting the urge to turn back and form another plan. The fact they'd not seen or heard from him meant he most likely hadn't found that mushroom he was searching for. There was every possibility he was still nearby, and she wasn't about to quit on him.

To give her leg a break, she pushed herself closer to the level ground, carved through by the river. Its roar pounded her ears as it rushed down the mountain slope. The ground was still devoid of grass, the trees standing skeletal beside the river. The leaves had been reduced to mush after the snowfall, and the mud sucked at Cleo's paws as she trudged along it.

The sight of the river made her heart ache. Finding the poisoned river had been her first real outing with Mischief as part of their team. It had been a wake-up-slap none of them had expected. Loneliness stabbed at Cleo's chest and she half-expected Spark to say something from her shoulder. The silence made her heart ache even more.

After a short while, trudging through the muck became tiresome. Cleo turned her back on the river and clambered higher up the slope. Perhaps from a better vantage point she might be able to pinpoint the whimsicott.

The mountain caps were still thick with snow, rising up to vanish beyond heavy white clouds. Cleo raised her paw to shield her eyes as she squinted out across the landscape. The stony terrain rose and fell, vanishing into the dense forest below. Gentle snow drifted lazily down towards the rocks, reluctant to let go of the cold season. Cleo looked past it then faltered.

No. That wasn't snow.

She squinted at it, watching the white specks drift and bob along the wind. Seeds? But it was much too early for seeds.

Her heart lurched. They weren't seeds! She lowered her paw, pushing herself towards them. Half-running, half-sliding on her tail, Cleo scrambled towards the fluffy tufts, following their trail back towards a mound of rocks. Snow lay piled up against them, its surface crusted with ice. A narrow cave mouth yawned from beneath the outcrop. Large icicles hung down from it like vicious teeth, dripping melt onto the slick, icy ground. Fluffy white tufts clung to the icicles and the rough surface of the rock like frothy saliva.

Cleo recoiled from it slightly, her gaze trailing over the opening. It was much too small for her with all that jagged ice. She squinted into it and stifled a gasp. A fluffy shape lay curled up in the middle of the cave, his sides rising and falling with shallow rapid breaths.

"Mischief?" she hissed.

When he didn't respond, Cleo stood back, her heart hammering. Something was very wrong. Why would he be curled up in a frozen place like this? Was he injured? He certainly wasn't conscious. She had to get in, but the huge icy teeth barred her way. Above them lay a heavy layer of snow, slowly melting away in the sun. It trickled down the icicles to pool on the frozen ground. Cleo tested it with her feet, feeling them slip over black ice. It was going to be a challenge to get inside that cave. If she used her psychic to destroy the icicles, the snow would tumble down on her and block Mischief in until it melted away in the thick of the hot season.

Cleo searched around her until she spotted a pile of rubble. She searched through it for a jagged stone that would allow her to slowly chip away at the ice. Her paws found a chunk of slate and she returned to the cave mouth to face its frozen grin.

"Right," she muttered to it, raising her makeshift chisel.

Slowly she scraped away at the ice, letting the shavings fall to the floor at her feet. Her other paw held the ice to stop it from moving and disturbing the snow. It burned her pads with a fierce intensity and she yanked her paw back several times, sticking it into her mouth to warm it up. She glanced in at Mischief but if he heard her he didn't stir. Bile rose in Cleo's throat and she worked fiercely at the ice, dragging the slate up and down it.

The sun had begun to set by the time she was done, dying the sky an inky blue. Psychic hummed in her ears as it held the icicle in place, which was now worn thin at its base. She dropped the slate to hold the weakened icicle in both paws, using her psychic to gradually move it aside. She set it on the snowy ground and released her powers, feeling exhausted from exerting so much of them. She blew on her paws to warm them and turned back to the cave entrance. The opening was still small, but with the icicle shifted she could duck inside and drag herself through on all-fours. Once inside, she scooted over to Mischief, placing her paws on his shoulder.

"Mischief?" She gave him a gentle shake. "Mischief, are you…?" She trailed off, lifting a paw from his shoulder. His fur felt cold and damp, and dew clung to his body.

The wind blew through the cave and Cleo fluffed up her fur and huddled into herself. How long had he been in here? Cold and alone… a grass-type hiding in a frozen cave… Cleo's heart began to race and she rummaged through her bag, dragging out her old blue tent. She pulled it over the two of them and huddled into his body, hoping it would be enough to warm him up. The familiar scent of pollen reached her nose and she buried her face into his chest with a sob.

She didn't know how much time passed. The mountains were deathly silent, and the dark of night soon blanketed the mountain. Cleo refused to let herself sleep, keeping her senses trained on Mischief. His body began to warm and his breathing became less frantic.

Feeling a little more relieved, Cleo climbed from the sheet to reach for her bag, rummaging through it for berries. He'd need some when he woke up. She'd pulled a sitrus free when a mumble came from the sheet. She looked back, her heart in her throat. Mischief raised a paw to rub his eyes and fixed one on her. He blinked a few times as though he wasn't convinced she was there. He pushed himself up, letting the sheet fall to his lap.

"Cleo?"

Cleo let out a long sigh and felt her fur flatten. "Mischief… thank goodness, I-"

She was cut off as the whimsicott threw his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She dropped the berry and returned his embrace, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Please tell me you're really here." His body shook with sobs.

"I'm here."

"Because I don't want it to be another dream," he went on. "Please…"

"Mischief." Her voice came out as a breath. A dream? She tried to pull back to meet his gaze but his grip wouldn't relent. "I'm here. Really."

He sighed and loosened his hold, nuzzling her neck. "Thank goodness."

Cleo trailed a paw over his back, trying to break the daze she now found herself in. "Now… are you going to tell me what you're doing in this cave?" She tried to pull back but he kept her close.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he murmured.

Cleo swallowed back tears. "Why on earth would you think that?"

He shifted slightly and Cleo's mind went to the berry lying a paw's reach away, but he didn't let her go. His muzzle brushed hers and she froze, catching her breath.

"I've missed you." His breath tickled her fur and he brushed a paw over her ear.

Cleo's mouth went dry. She fastened her paws in his fluffy collar. "I've missed you too." She swallowed to try and silence the sob that threatened to betray her. She opened her mouth to add that she was glad he was okay, but her words were robbed as his lips brushed hers.

Cleo's mind swirled, floundering over words. All that came out was a muffled 'whu?' as Mischief touched his nose to hers. His warm breath bathed her muzzle.

"I'm so happy you're here." He trailed his claws through her fur near her ear.

Giving up on words, Cleo leaned into him, and he met her kiss. His warmth leaked through her fur, chasing away the biting cold from the breeze. She brushed her paw over one of his horns and yanked it back with with a yell. It was like touching hot iron. She pulled back from him, but his paws flailed as he tried to pull her back. She met his gaze, misted and confused.

"No!" he whined. "Don't leave me!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Cleo dragged her paws over her face, trying to clear her head. "You're burning up. Get back under the sheet."

Mischief flopped to the ground but his bleary gaze never left her. It was as if he was worried she'd vanish at any moment. Cleo reached into her bag and rummaged around for another sitrus berry.

"You're sick." She placed the berry near his outstretched paw. "Eat this."

He grabbed her paw before she could retract it from the berry. She met his eyes, keeping her expression stoic.

"Why are you pushing me away?" he asked.

Cleo's ears drooped and she retracted her paw. "Please eat that berry. I need you to get better."

With a resigned sigh, Mischief pushed himself up and began tearing the peel off the sitrus. He swayed so violently Cleo braced herself to catch him in case he fainted. But he steadied himself and tore a chunk out of the berry with his claws.

"You don't feel the same way I do," he said. "Do you?"

Cleo hugged her knees to her chest and glanced back at the cave mouth. Moonlight glinted off the icicles. She didn't know how much of what Mischief was saying was just a result of the fever.

"We'll talk in the morning," she said. "After you've slept and the berries have done their work."

...

Frantic wing-beats stirred the air, drawing Yurlik out of his evening drowse. His red gaze wandered up to the sky, resting on the cloud of noibat and murkrow flocking over the wall. Several of them clutched freshly caught fish. Yurlik grunted, forcing himself into the air to intersect them. He landed, panting, in a tree closer to the wall as the birds with empty claws landed in it.

The slender branch above him bowed under the weight of another honchkrow, and her wicked eyes narrowed as an amused laugh left her throat.

"Ilana," Yurlik scoffed. "I see you're back with nothing."

"Nothing?" Ilana nodded to the murkrow still making their way across the Shadow Lands towards the food stores. "My flock did a much better job than yours."

"They wouldn't need to run this pointless errand in the first place if you hadn't raided the breeding pens of valuable stock," Yurlik scoffed.

Ilana's amusement died and she ruffled her feathers. "I think you're just ashamed that we've proved we are worth much more than just eggs and meat?"

Yurlik opened his beak to retort but a large shadow looming across the courtyard drew their gaze. Yveltal strutted towards the wall, his icy gaze fixed on the returning pokemon. The deino scattered from beneath his feet, barely phasing Yveltal. Yurlik felt his feathers bristle and he failed to stifle a low growl. They'd have more food available if the giant draconic bird didn't keep turning it to stone.

"Good evening." Yurlik forced the words out of a stiff beak.

Yveltal glanced up at him then returned to watching the murkrow and noibat as they vanished over the roof of the castle. "That's a rather paltry flock you've got there."

Yurlik scoffed and opened his beak, but it was Ilana who spoke. "I think you'll find they're my flock."

Yveltal turned his gaze on her. A glint of humour sparkled in his eyes. "Rather weak fliers."

"They're improving," said Ilana. "You should have seen them a season ago. They could barely fly from the ground into the branches of this tree."

"Then with a bit more progress perhaps you'll be able to actually claim a bit more land for your ruler?" Yveltal cracked his jaws in a grin. He turned his gaze from a ruffled Ilana to Yurlik, causing a chill to spread throughout the honchkrow's body. "And where are your murkrow? If this female's flock have nothing to do with you?"

Yurlik hugged his wings tight to his body. "Out on patrol in the Border Woods."

"You don't leave any on guard here?"

"I don't have the murkrow to spare." Yurlik felt as if every word needed plucking from deep in his throat.

Yveltal cocked his head on one side. "Really?"

"Really," Yurlik confessed. What he didn't want to add was that most of what remained of his flock had carpeted part of the Border Woods weeks earlier. 'That whimsicott has a lot to answer for…'

Yveltal spat air and glanced around at the Shadow Lands. His expression turned sour as his icy stare landed on the deino herd. "Hydreigon's armies truly are pathetic. How long have you been trying to retrieve that little whimsicott?"

Yurlik's feathers rose and his eyes flashed with rage. "I beg your pardon?! I have you know-" His words died as Yveltal's livid eyes met his, and he swallowed audibly. "It's giving us a lot of bother. You should see it! I-"

"Oh, I shall see it." Yveltal raised his head, almost stretching up as high as Yurlik's branch.

Ilana quivered above him, rustling what remained of the decaying leaves. Her wings parted slightly as she braced herself to flee. 'Don't you dare,' Yurlik thought, willing his voice to echo in her head.

Yveltal looked between the two honchkrow. A grin split his beak again and he let out a dry laugh. "You'd better watch your tongue, Yurlik. If Hydreigon's armies weren't already so pathetic I'd be turning you into a fat lawn ornament to join your leader's zweilos."

Yurlik gulped and shifted his weight, causing the branch to sway.

Yveltal laughed again and shook his head. "Pathetic, all of you. I should show you how it's done."

"You have no idea, Yveltal," Yurlik told him. "That whimsicott is… something is very wrong with it. No single pokemon should possess such power!"

"Power?!" Yveltal spread his wings. The blood-red stripes stretching across them seemed to flash. "I have more power than that little runt could dream of!"

Yurlik's beak flapped wordlessly. His heart was pounding so fast it echoed around his ears. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to flee.

Yveltal tucked his wings back in and bared his canines. "Perhaps I should go out there and retrieve the little pest myself?"

The honchkrow were silent for a moment, trapped in Yveltal's cold stare. The large bird took a step back, but Ilana's voice froze him.

"I had it in my grip," she said.

Yurlik stifled a curse and looked away from her.

"Don't underestimate it," Ilana told Yveltal. "I'm almost certain when it struck out at us it was holding back. If the damage it's done to Yurlik's flock is anything to go by-"

"You untrained little hatchlings." Yvetal looked up at them again, his eyes blazing with icy fire. "Your warning hasn't fallen on deaf ears. But if I come back here with that monstrosity, you'll both be decorating Hydreigon's castle." He paused and cracked a smirk. "So perhaps consider what pose you'd like to be frozen in?"

Yveltal beat his wings and shot into the air. Yurlik braced himself against the sudden flurry of wind. When he looked up, Yveltal had vanished. Yurlik touched his primaries to his chest and let out a long, audible breath. He exchanged glances with a cowed Ilana, her entire body trembling.

"Couldn't keep your beak shut, could you?" Yurlik snapped.

Ilana raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "What, and you're happy with him thinking you're so pathetic?"

Yurlik spread his wings and beat them, rising off the tree. "You'd better hope he doesn't find that whimsicott, Ilana, or we're both in for it."

...

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