By the time she finally caught wind of her upcoming goal, fatigue was beginning to creep into the edges of Isle's body. The first indication that her journey was coming to a close was sound; under the breeze, as she leapt from branch to branch, she could hear faint sounds of merriment. A large mass of Pokémon laughing, cheering, and otherwise celebrating awaited her ahead.

As soon as she was certain of what she was hearing, Isle caught herself on a sturdy-looking branch, stopping her momentum entirely. "I think we're almost there," she whispered to her passenger. "Are you ready?"

Callula shifted beneath her crown. "Ready as I'll ever be," she breathed. "Assuming you're still sure you want to do this, anyways."

"I am." With that, Isle leapt to the next branch and continued her travel. The sound grew louder quickly, and as she grew closer, it was joined by soft music. It sounded like a grass whistle playing a jaunty tune meant to instill a desire to dance. Even Isle was feeling it; despite her urgent mission, her heart longed to join whatever mirth awaited her ahead.

Soon she found that there were no more branches for her to jump on, and she was forced to stop. Ahead was a meadow densely saturated with plants and flowers of all kinds. The treeline circled around and joined on the opposite side to create a pocket of tree-less land in the otherwise interminable forest, and in the opposite side of the clearing stood the town itself.

Harvest, as Isle could remember its name was, was a wide open town. The vast majority of structures had no walls whatsoever, and most of its residents were perfectly happy to live their lives in the open air. As a result of the its open nature, Isle could see right to the center. At its core was a massive round pavilion with a floor of painted clay, meant to be an all-purpose staging ground for events.

At the moment, there was some kind of fair or celebration in the square. Colorful decorations were strewn about every which way, and a performance of sorts was happening in the center of it all—though that was about all Isle could tell from so far away. She moved to the side, following the curve of the treeline around the massive clearing.

A handful of seconds later, Isle was once again perched stationary on a tree branch—this time with a much closer view of the festivities from just outside town.

"OK, I think we're close enough to search the crowd," Isle said. "Wanna help?"

"No, thanks. I'll stay up here. Just let me know when you want me go."

Isle looked up, despite the fact that she'd never be able to see her own head. "You OK, Callie?"

She sighed. "Just nervous."

"It'll be fine. I promise."

"If you say so, my dear. But I'm nervous all the same."

Isle grunted in acknowledgement as she finally turned her gaze towards the clearing. She started with the most eye-catching Pokémon—the ones performing.

The few dozen performers in the square were dancing in what seemed to be a multi-layered circle. They swelled in and out as they rotated around the center with the rhythm of the song, and despite their exceptionally diverse species, all together their dance felt full of life. Isle didn't quite understand why until she looked closer. The dance was clearly choreographed, but the dancers' actual skill and understanding of it varied highly; for every graceful and coordinated dancer, there was one clumsily and blindly mimicking those around them. The event being open to anyone was very clearly the point; the novice dancers would fall and laugh about it while those more skilled would help them up as they all did their best to stay on time. The laughter and mirth was entirely infectious, and Isle found herself smiling underneath her mask just watching.

Still, there were no Sceptile, Absol, or Meowstic visible in the constantly shifting mass of dancers. Turning her attention to the spectators, Isle scanned for any trace of them.

Given the disproportionate grass-type population of Harvest, Isle was able to spot a handful of Sceptile in the crowd—but one in particular caught her eye. They reclined at the front of the crowd, just aside an elderly Absol. They pressed against each other with familiarity; the chances of an elderly Absol being in Harvest were already very small, but the pair of them being together meant Isle could not be mistaken.

"I think that's them," she whispered to her garland. "Are you ready?"

Callula shifted on her head. "I guess so," she sighed. "What should I s—"

"Hold on a second," Isle hissed. The Sceptile had been watching the performance, but his lidded eyes idly flicked to search the forest. A habit likely formed from years of paranoia, but his eyes would only be on her for a moment; there was no time for hesitation. "Change of plans," she said, dropping off of the tree branch.

"Wha—" Callula gasped before the motion quieted her. In the meantime, Isle landed deftly and reacquired eye contact with the Sceptile.

Just as Isle hoped, the sudden movement had caught his attention. Now he was staring directly at her, and despite the vast distance between them, his view was unobstructed. Isle raised her arms, showing him the flat of her claw with a large, dramatic motion of peace. Then, with a similarly exaggerated pull, she beckoned him over.

The Sceptile continued to stare with lidded eyes. Then, after a far-too-long pause, he looked away. He leaned down to his Absol companion, apparently to whisper something into her ear. Finally, he stood and slowly lumbered out of Isle's narrow field of view.

Callula, having finally recovered from the sudden movement, detached from her head. "W-what was that?" she gasped, floating down in front of Isle. "What did you just do?"

"He was looking this way, so I called him over. He'll be here soon, so I'd prepare if I were you."

Callula jumped as a foreign voice spoke in her place. "It's too late, I'm afraid," the Forest Ghost said as he walked into the clearing. "I've already arrived. Hello, Isle. At least, your mask makes me assume that you're Isle."

"That was... really fast," Isle admitted, shifting towards him. His sudden arrival had scared her just as bad as Callula, but she had managed to not show it. "I mean, you were in the middle of town."

The Forest Ghost continued towards them, perfectly casual and relaxed in his stride. "All attention was on the festival dance, so I didn't have to go far before I didn't have to worry about scaring anyone with my speed." Having stopped, he settled into the same seated position he was watching show in. "But I imagine you're not here just to feed my ego."

"We came to ask you for help," Isle admitted, sitting down across from him.

"With what?" he asked, thoroughly indifferent. "And why come to me of all Pokémon?"

"Um. Do you want the whole story?"

The Forest Ghost nodded his consent.

Isle took a deep breath, preparing herself. "There's an organization called the White Spine. It exerts a huge amount of control over the world primarily through having spies absolutely everywhere, and I was part of this organization—or it's more of a cult, really—because they hid their true intentions from me. See, I bore a mark cut into my neck that allowed Giratina to guide me. He pointed out Pokémon to me—Pokémon that he claimed were dimensional anomalies that I was to kill. I did this until you captured me, and I had allegiance to the White Spine and Giratina until your Riolu came to visit me in the night. Luca, she said her name was."

"Something she told me made me realize that I was being lied to, and I betrayed the White Spine. I told Luca all of this as quickly as I could before the heat wave came, which as I'm sure you've guessed was the beginning of the raid. Next thing I know I'm in a jail. Soon my nervous Callula companion over there visits me, and she's been tasked with keeping me alive and interrogating me. I share my story and she betrays Giratina as well. So, we came to you. She learned where you had gone before her betrayal, so you were basically our only option. We're hoping for safety, but we're also willing to help you with whatever you might intend to do, whether it's striking back against the White Spine or just saving Luca."

The Forest Ghost had been listening, but he wasn't especially interested in what she was saying. That is, he wasn't interested right up until the very end; when she said 'saving Luca', his eyes went wide.

"Are you saying she actually made it out?" he asked, as if it were too good to be true.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. What did you say happened?" Isle asked, turning towards Callula.

"T-the Riolu was unconscious from the heat wave," Callula stuttered, still obviously afraid of the Sceptile. "A Charmeleon withstood it and carried her out, knocking out a perimeter guard on the way. Last I heard they disappeared somewhere in the nearby mountains and they hadn't been found yet, but that was a while ago now."

The Forest Ghost's lips parted in a toothless grin. "...And with a fire-type, they're in a unique position to survive the journey," he said, mostly to himself. "I'd celebrate, but my understanding is that you slaughtered those that weren't so fortunate."

"We didn't," Callula hurried to correct. "I'm a medic, and she was unconscious."

"And I'm sure you've both had a hand in equally bad actions," he retorted. "But then again, so have I. The path of repentance is a long one."

Isle nodded in acknowledgement, though she said nothing. She felt it best to wait for an answer on whether he'd help them.

"I have a few questions, I think," he continued. "First, was Giratina the reason you could sense me coming?"

"That's right," Isle confirmed. "He was able to see in a wide radius around me, and he would warn me of things I couldn't see myself."

"And he can no longer?"

"We cut out the marks. They only work while intact."

"Do you know that for sure?" he pressed. "Is it conceivable that he's very dedicated to pretending that the marks are dependent on their integrity, when in reality being marked is a formality for something you'll have for life? It would be an exceptionally effective method to catch fleeing betrayers."

"...Pretty certain," Isle said. "But I guess it's theoretically possible."

"When you cut my mark out, he was talking to me constantly," Callula added. "His voice abruptly stopped the second it was cut into, and it felt very authentic."

"Fine, we'll assume that the connection is properly severed," the Forest Ghost decided with a nod. "Next question: you said that there's spies everywhere? Are there some in Harvest?" he asked, tilting his head back towards the town. "And in the old Coalition camp before the raid?"

"That's right," Callula answered. "Would you like to know who?"

"I don't, actually. I'm simply getting an idea about the scale of this organization. Are you two being hunted, now?"

This time, Isle answered: "We are. We've already had to fight an agent, but only one has found us thus far."

"And how do you feel about more traveling?"

"...Not thrilled about it. Why?"

"Here's the situation," he sighed. "I believe you, and I'm willing to help you. Unfortunately, I have to stay in Harvest and will likely be unable to leave for a long time. So, all I can offer you is meager monetary support as well as my counsel."

"Your... counsel?"

"That's right. You don't think I was hired by the Coalition for nothing, do you?"

Isle shared a glance with Callula. She shrugged, apparently not understanding any more than she was. "How does that help us in a situation like this?"

"Well, I'll show you. Let's imagine Luca and her Charmeleon savior in the mountains. What's the first order of business?"

"What?"

"Humor me. Let's think from their perspective."

"...Surviving the mountains would be the first priority," Callula guessed.

"I agree. However, they've suddenly found themselves unable to rely on the camp that they had grown accustomed to. They're alone, hunted by an organization with overwhelming numbers and unknown positions. So, say they're surviving the mountains and are now looking to after they're out. What's next? You two are in much the same situation, so you're uniquely qualified to guess."

"We came to you," Callula answered, gaining confidence. "So I guess they would have made a similar decision?"

"That's a safe assumption. When one loses all support in the face of a fearsome foe, one naturally misses the safety that comes with that support. One therefore searches for it. You were aware of my location because of your previous position, but they wouldn't have known I was in Harvest. In fact, they wouldn't have known that I had survived. So the question becomes: what information did they have access to? Where would they have searched for support?"

Callula visibly descended deep into thought, and Isle felt a twinge of irritation. The Sceptile obviously knew where this 'counsel' was leading, so what was the point of these theatrics? She had no interest in participating, so she was glad that Callula seemed to be at least tolerating it.

"...I can't think of anywhere," Callula finally concluded. "They left while the camp was burning, and just like with you, they'd have no reason to think that anyone else survived—let alone information on where to find them."

"Agreed. Nobody from camp, so who else?"

"Uhm... Nobody that Luca knew, since she's from another dimension, right? She'd only know Pokémon from camp."

"Indeed. So, we'll assume that they chose someone that the Charmeleon knows, which reminds me of a piece of gossip that my Absol employer shared with me. During training one day, the very same Charmeleon mentioned that he was raised by a group of wild Charizard. Groups of wild Pokémon are tightly knit, and the safety afforded by them is likely the very first thing he would think of. Even more than that, he is unlikely to have close relationships outside of this group, as they are typically quite isolated."

"So we need to find a group of Charizard?"

"I think that's the best bet to find them, at least. As far as I'm aware, the closest group is in the mountain range almost due north of here. The Cord it's called, as I recall. It's the only one within reasonable distance of the Coalition camp."

Finally, Isle spoke up. "...And the reason you couldn't just tell us that instead of taking us through the whole question-and-answer dance is...?"

He half-turned back towards her, inspecting her with a single thoroughly unamused eye. "I said I'd give you counsel, not orders. Besides, it's more fun this way."

"What do you think, Isle?" Callula asked. "Should we try there?"

"Even one wild Charizard would be too much for us, and I don't especially feel like being killed and eaten."

"What else can we do, though?"

"Before you decide," the Forest Ghost interjected, "I have one more piece of information that may be useful—if a bit less so. I've heard rumors about the ruined Coalition camp. Apparently there's been sightings of the Forest Ghost there, attacking, injuring, and knocking out travelers. I find that decidedly strange, as that quaint moniker is typically attributed to me."

"And what?" Isle asked. "You think it might be a survivor of the raid?"

"It's... possible, I think," Callula said. "The only escapees that I'm aware of are Luca, the Charmeleon, and the three leaders—but there could have been more. I'm sure there's a complete list somewhere, but I only know what I know from idle gossip so I'm not privy to it."

He nodded. "We had a lot of tough cookies there that could have survived, and if this particular one is being mistaken for me, I have a suspicion about who it might be. If you're interested in investigating, calling out 'Lann sent me' will likely bring them enough pause for you to explain yourself. Lann, of course, being my name. Pleased to meet you more properly, by the way, and I'm glad it is as allies."

"Oh, nice to meet you too," Isle said, surprised. He really was trusting them to a strange degree, to have given his name. "You already know my name is Isle."

"And I'm Callula," she added.

"Hm, I actually used to know a Callula," the Forest Ghost reminisced. "A Froslass. A long time ago, now. Beautiful name. And Isle, is that truly your name? I assumed it was a codename, of sorts. Most outlaws never give away their true name."

"No, it's real. Letting it become public was sort of a promise to myself. A pledge that I was dedicated to the cause, and I was an outlaw for life."

"I see. A shame, then, that your past will likely follow you for just that long. Since we are sharing names, I'll share that the Charmeleon's name is Dante. I'm sure that he wouldn't mind, and you'll likely need to know it if you go to his family."

"Thanks. But can I ask you why you need to stay in Harvest?"

"You may not," he said with a smile, finally standing. "At least not until you manage to bring back a familiar face. Is there anything else?"

Sharing a glance with her, Isle could see that Callula had nothing else. "We're good, I think. Thanks for the information, Lann."

"My pleasure," he said, lumbering away. "If you want to contact me again, try to catch my eye in the same way. I'd rather you weren't spotted in town."

Isle watched him leave. It seemed that he always pretended to be slow and clumsy when he was in the view of other Pokémon, but he also made his speed no secret; he basically rubbed in their faces how quickly he had managed to reach them, and he had admitted that he was only able to do so because he was able to get out of the sight of the townsfolk quickly. It was almost as if he was shy, unable to perform in the public eye. Even when he had captured her, Isle hadn't once actually seen him move quickly.

Turning towards her, Isle could see that Callula was deep in thought. "What do you think?" she asked, startling the Comfey out of her considerations.

"He's not what I expected," Callula admitted. "I mean, you think of the Forest Ghost and you imagine a cold, quiet Pokémon. He was perfectly friendly and helpful."

"Hardly," Isle huffed. "He might act pleasantly, but he always makes sure to give it an air of intimidation. Besides, he may have trusted us more than I expected, but he's still keeping us at arm's length. For all we know, he's only sharing the info he did because it doesn't matter to him."

"Oh, come on. You saw how his eyes lit up at the mention of the Riolu's survival, didn't you? That was the best news he's heard since the raid."

Isle sighed. "I still have a bad feeling about it."

Callula held her gaze for a moment, and Isle felt a strange pressure from it. Instinctively, she looked away.

"...Do you want to investigate, then?" Callula finally said, moving on. "Or do something else?"

"We haven't been given much choice. He's clearly not going to let us stay in Harvest."

"Which, then? Which lead do we follow?"

"We follow Luca. She's the center of it all, and she's much more important than whatever random ex-Coalition member is making a stand at the old camp."

"Are you sure? The camp is closer and is a more solid lead. Luca's location is based on solid speculation, but speculation nonetheless."

"I'm sure."

"OK," Callula smiled as she floated up towards Isle's head, once again wrapping herself around it. "Shall we get started, then? It's a long way to the Cord."

"You don't want to stay here for a bit?" Isle asked, gesturing towards the lush garden across the festival town. "I'm sure this scenery is positively tantalizing for you."

The only response Isle received was silence. "Callie?" Isle said. "Did you fall asleep?"

"I'm thinking!" came Callula's whisper from behind Isle's head, full of mock annoyance. "It's probably not a good idea to actually be in the flowers, right?"

"Do any spies that would recognize you tend to hang out there?"

"One or two, but I'm not sure if they will still be out there during a festival."

"...We really don't want to be spotted."

Callula sighed. "Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea. Would you mind taking me back to where we originally were, at least? The far side of the clearing?"

"I'll go slow so we can talk," Isle said as she stepped forward, balancing on the branches and scanning for a path that wouldn't require any large jumps. "...Look, I need to ask. Are you sure you want to do this with me?"

"What, sit above the meadow and enjoy the day?" Callula joked. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do."

"No, I mean like... Look, you don't have anything identifying like my scar or my mask. You're so much easier to identify when you're with me, and you'd be in a much better position if you just stayed here, under the radar. I'm sure there are plenty of Comfey here, too."

"Not gonna happen," she whispered, full of conviction.

"But—"

"Not. gonna happen," Callula repeated. "Isle, you know that chasing Luca is so much more dangerous than anything we've done so far. Assuming she's even still alive, the closer we get to her the more White Spine agents we'll have to fight. You need a healer."

"It's not that dangerous," Isle protested as she stepped across a gap in the branches. "I just think it's the better option."

"Ahh, but if you simply wanted someone to bring back to gain Lann's trust you wouldn't have said that Luca is more important. No, you know that following her is more difficult and more dangerous. You're doing it because you want to help her, not because of any selfish desire to be protected by the Forest Ghost—and I bet you won't stop at finding her and bringing her back to Harvest."

Isle felt a prickle of irritation. "Who says the fake Forest Ghost is an ex-Coalition member, anyways? It could be anything—a coincidence, a White Spine trap. And that's assuming we can even trust Lann."

Callula sighed. "Doesn't matter. Either way, I'm sticking with you. That is, if you're giving me a choice instead of just deciding to dump me."

"...No, I'm not ditching you. But I do think you should consider your other options."

"Consider them considered. Are we there yet?"

"What? We're not even a quarter of the way."

"Huh? How? You've been walking for so long."

"Callula, this is a massive clearing. You can't expect me to get to the other side in the span of one brief conversation."

"It took you a handful of seconds before! You can't be going that much slower."

"I mean... I am? How do you think we've been traveling so fast? I think I remember you even called attention to it."

"But that's like... ten times faster, at least!"

"What do you want me to say? I'm a Weavile; we go fast. Plus, that's only my traveling speed. I can go much faster in combat."

With that, Callula fell silent for a few moments. "...I've never seen a real fight," Callula whispered. "Only the aftermath. It must be terrifying."

"It can be. So let's do our best to keep the agents off our trail, OK?"

"OK," Callula said. Isle could hear the smile in her voice. "Now, do you want to use that terrifying speed to take us to the branch overlooking the meadow? We can talk more there."

"Sure." With that, Isle ceased her slow careful movement and leapt forward. A few long moments later, she stopped; she was back at the branch she had used as an overlook soon before.

Without prompting, Callula detached herself and floated down to the branch. She wrapped herself around it, comfortably propping her tiny head up to look down at the flowers. Looking carefully, Isle couldn't see any sign of Pokémon in the meadow. Unfortunately, this was essentially a meaningless observation; those that tended to enjoy such flowery patches tended to be like Callula: tiny and adept at blending in with the flowers. It was simply safer to be content with staying on the branch.

Isle finally sat down without a word. She could see some beauty in the view, admittedly. She could do without the bright sun beating down on her, and the heat was definitely slowing her down, but the flowers themselves were certainly beautiful in their own way.

Instead of continuing to inspect the field, Isle looked down at Callula. She was perfectly relaxed, her small body just about melting into a puddle on the rough bark. She wore an expression of bliss, and her eyes were half-closed; Isle wasn't even sure she was enjoying the view itself at all.

Looking forward again, Isle spoke in a quiet voice: "How is it?"

Callula sighed contentedly. "It's divine. It's been so long since I've done something like this... I don't know how I always forget how good the scent of so many flowers can be."

Isle raised her head and closed her eyes, tasting the air. As she expected, she couldn't smell much of anything; as far as she could tell, it was no different from the middle of a forest. Still, Callula was enjoying herself, so even if Isle wasn't having nearly the same experience, she could sit there and wait for the sake of her friend—especially because their eventual goal was up in the mountains and Callula would likely not get another opportunity like this for a long time.

Isle stood and moved over to the trunk. Sitting back down and leaning against it, she closed her eyes and did her best to sleep and despite the heat.