Welp, here we are again, you and I. We've walked this road before, I apologize for the time between uploads, demean myself, say that it won't happen again, knowing full well it mostly likely will, and express my hopes that you enjoy. Thanks to RandomOmness and especially Cornova for the feedback and praise. To answer your question: as outdoorsy as I am, I have never nearly died of dehydration in the woods, or gotten lost in the woods for more than a day. But hey, if it sounds like I'm writing from first hand experience, I must be doing something right, right? Thank ye if you actually read this, and I hope you enjoy this...odd chapter.

'How is it I'm even alive?' I pondered for the umpteenth time. The walk was going rather well, as far as I could tell, but there was precious little to do to pass the time other than think, and my thoughts always arrived at this same question. Time was difficult to judge in these woods without a timepiece, but I probably still had about an hour before sunset. I was making good time, I hoped, despite my discomfort in traipsing around in the woods half-naked.

My jacket had been turned into an impromptu water sack with some effort by tying off the ends and using the sleeves as a sling. The zipper area had not been quite watertight, but I discovered this quickly and adjusted it so that the zipper was folded upwards. My jeans were still heavy with water, but I tied one pant's leg around my ankle and used it to scrape out a small trail that I could backtrack (or avoid backtracking) with as I walked. Originally, I had simply carried my shirt over my shoulder, but after finding that even in the chilly weather one could still work up a sweat walking for long, so I had decided to take advantage of the damp cotton in tying it around my head, as I would a bandanna.

I was freezing, but not as badly as I would have been if I were subjected to both the bone-chilling wind AND wet clothing. Of course, I still wore my socks, shoes, and underwear. My shoes would soon need to be replaced, but the worn-out soles provided more protection than the naked skin on the bottoms of my feet. The underwear was more out of practicality than modesty- I was only willing to expose so much to the elements, and I was only able to risk so much in terms of bodily harm. That said, as I walked, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end frequently, as though I was being watched.

Paranoia and delusions often went hand in hand.

'How is it someone in such dire straights could be so damn lucky?

"Maybe it's because of the dire straits, as opposed to despite them. You are still alive, after all."

An interesting concept 'How so?'

"Well, if we work backwards, you were able to escape the encampment alive because of Scar's intervention. Had you not been shot, you would not have met Scar in the first place, and you could not have ridden on his efforts and escaped."

'Had I not been shot, I may not have been at that base in the first place.'

"Maybe, but Jenny was still injured, and she did need to receive help."

'Had it not been for the pinsir, she would not have been inured as she was in the first place.'

"But if not for the pinsir, the truck would have either not been damaged, and you would not have met the deserter, and you would not have found the encampment."

'But if the truck had not been damaged, we could have gone anywhere anyways.'

"But the truck is constrained by fuel, and there's no guarantee it would have kept working. Besides, Scar said there were zubat attacks all throughout the mountains, imagine if you ran out of gas and been caught in an attack."

'That is a lot of ifs.'

"The whole scenario is reliant on many ifs. There is only one known outcome: being here, in these woods, lost and half naked, but alive."

'The outcome is less than ideal'

"And the cost was high."

'Elaborate.'

"The cost to everyone else. Walked over a lot of corpses to get here. World knows where Jenny or Lawrence are. Or what became of Rui and Scar. Had to leave your pokemon behind."

'Not my Pokemon.'

"They would have begged to differ."

'They knew someone else. I'm different from who I- he- was, both in practice and in fact. It may be better how they are, slumbering in pokeballs for a time, safe from harm, until someone braver than me figures out what to do with them.'

"Perhaps"

An exceptionally strong breeze struck my side, tearing me from my internal dialogue, sending me into brief and wild shivers as my skin rubbed against the cold.

"I smelled smoke, did you?" I turned towards the voice, finding the dead girl again at my side. I shifted my weight, attempting to vent some of my discomfort of her presence- or perceived presence.

I turned towards the direction the breeze had struck me, taking a stiff sniff of the air "I thought I did."

"Do you think you should follow it?"

I considered the sky briefly before making my decision "Probably. It must be close for me to smell it on the wind, and I don't have much more daylight left anyways. Even if whoever started the fire is unsympathetic, they probably are not nearly as lost as I am, and there is probably a path nearby to put me back on track."

"Following a smell doesn't seem like a good idea."

I shrugged "It isn't as though I'll find myself any more lost than I already am. As long as the sun rises in the east, I can find my way back on track."

The girl nodded "Don't forget to collect some of that moss when you see it. A half-cup of water could be the difference between life and death."

I rolled my eyes, covering masking discomfort with annoyance "Okay moth-"

She was gone again. It was probably just as well.


By the time the sun had nearly set I still had not found any sign of the fire I had smelled. Worse still, clouds had begun to roll in from the west, blocking out the sun at points, and would likely blot out the night sky in several hours.

I determined now was a good time for a calculated risk.

I felt the need to find the fire that I couldn't particularly place. I didn't feel desperate for it, simply as if finding the fire was just something that would be right and necessary. Not necessarily just for the warmth, not for the company, not for the safety, not to stop being lost. Simply a need.

"That seems like a very, very bad idea."

I simply grunted in response, shaking off the disapproval.

"An awful, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea."

"It's a calculated risk."

"What fits into those calculations? The chance of serious injury? Chance of opening your still-healing wounds? Chance of a minor injury becoming infected? And for what? The possibility you might see a plume of smoke, remember where it is, and manage to navigate these woods remembering where it was?"

"For a chance to get some help. I'm punching above my weight class here, I cannot handle this myself. I mean look at me, I look like a pirate out of a bad cartoon."

"What happened to following the coastline?"

"The situation has changed: It wasn't the best option, it was the only option. Another possibility has presented itself, one which presents much greater rewards, but the window of opportunity is closing. Tell me again that this is a bad idea."

"It's a bad idea"

"I don't care"

"Fine!" She yelled exasperated "I'll be down here giving you moral support and whatever. But if you die don't come crying to me!"

The argument concluded, I decided to focus on the task at hand: climb a tree, find the source of the smoke plume, climb down the tree. It should have been simple, but…

Problem 1: The trees were still wet from the rain earlier, making their branches slick with water.

Problem 2: I lacked adequate protection from the wet bark, I could put on more clothing to remedy this: while still wet and filthy, but cold was preferable to skinned. Unfortunately, while they would provide some protection, that would be offset by…

Problem 3: While not on death's door, I felt weaker than I ought to. This was mostly due to exhaustion, I had walked long without pause, but it was also likely in part due to my earlier dehydration, as well as some lethargy from the days I had spent in the clinic. Climbing could be challenging. Climbing with clothing heavy with water could be impossible.

On the bright side, my rational mind had come to the conclusion that strenuous activity would not be harmful to my shoulder or stomach: were that the case, the hours I had spent running away from the camp would have surely opened them.

So, in many ways, she was right to object to this plan.

But I needed to find my way out of these woods.

Finding an ideal tree wasn't difficult. I didn't need a ridiculously tall one, just one with an accessible branch that would allow me to peek over the canopy. At first, I considered a tree with rougher bark to be ideal- the chance of falling out of the tree was more dangerous than a few scrapes, at least, I figured. After examining the bark, I quickly changed my mind- the rough bark was brittle, and would come away easily, so I could not place all my weight on the tree limb. Not to mention that even a small scrape could easily become infected in these sour conditions, and climbing a tree with rough bark WOULD result in many scrapes whereas climbing one with smooth bark did not guarantee I would fall.

I found one such tree easily. Even better, the branches were spaced somewhat apart so I would not need to contort my body around them to advance upwards but were still arranged in such a way that I could practically walk to the top.

Nonetheless, I found myself having to calm my nerves 'It's only what, forty feet to look over the canopy? It's fine. Just keep your sock and shoes on so it's not quite as easy to slip.' These thoughts did little to soothe my worries. I tapped two fingers on my knife- securely clipped to the waistband of my underwear for emotional support- and felt some of the pressure on my chest lift.

"Are you going climb or what?" I leveled a scowl at the girl, who folded her arms and met me with a scowl of her own. I looked away, focusing again on my task. I picked my first branch carefully- about six inches above my head, thick enough to support any number of jumps or pulls, but not too thick to wrap both hands around.

I jumped, wrapping both hands around the branch and swung my legs forward like a pendulum. I pumped my legs for two more swings before I was confident they were swinging high enough to wrap around the branch and did so. Now securely attached to the branch, I slowly pulled myself up until I was resting on the top of the branch.

The first and most difficult part of the ascent complete, I inched my way closer to the trunk, using its to steady myself as I rose to my feet. I grabbed another branch- this one about level with chin- and used it to keep my balance as I stepped to another branch, about level with my knee. I kept my hands on the branch I had steadied myself with and then jumped off my new branch, hoisting myself up.

I found myself grinning it was surprisingly fun- perhaps the first instance of fun I had experienced since Goldenrod. There was something liberating about climbing. In a simple way, I was defying the planet's simplest and most fundamental law, 'What goes up, must come down.' I found myself twisting my body in ways I had never considered, using muscles I hadn't known I had, and climbed faster, and faster, and closer to the top.

And then I was there. The ascent was over before I knew it.

I scanned the canopy in the direction I had initially smelled the smoke from. Nothing.

'Maybe I accidentally changed directions' I figured, deciding meticulously picking apart every group of trees in my field of view.

'There!' I laughed aloud at my good fortune. The smallest noticeable trail of smoke- so small I had to take a minute to make sure I had not imagined it-sprouted from the tree tops. I had been turned away after all, that, or my general idea of where the breeze had carried the smoke from was horrendously miscalculated, but the smoke was not far from where I was; finding the source by nightfall was very possible.

Figuring it was the best way to keep the direction, I bent a small branch back until it snapped, intent on dropping it in such a way that it would point in the direction of the smoke.

Looking down, I found I was no longer so fond of climbing.

Climbing great heights was enjoyable, but being at great heights? Less so, and the ground was always further below you than the branch was above you.

I pushed away my sudden nervousness and tossed down the branch, frowning as it struck the ground and turned. I tried again with another branch, and again with another. As the third branch landed I smiled, it seemed to land perfectly after rotating 180 degrees.

Now came the fun part.

Moving down was even less enjoyable than looking down. If climbing up was defying gravity, then climbing down was like begging it to work with you. A reversal of power.

It was not to say it was impossible, or even particularly difficult. Grab one branch, use it to leverage myself, swing, twist, plant feet on another branch.

The next set of branches were closer together. I stepped onto the lower one, then sat down on it. I grabbed the higher branch, wriggled, swung down again. The next set of branches was much the same, and I attempted the same maneuver.

"Be careful, that branch looks a bit w- Look out!"

My feet planted solidly on the branch below me, but slipped in my sudden panic. I fell suddenly, flailing my arms, grabbing wildly for the branch. My right arm hooked the branch, while my left side swung outward. My abs burned, as I strained to turn myself back towards the tree. With great effort, I managed to reach out and grab the branch with my left hand, though I could not pull myself up, I had managed to stabilize myself. Only then did I notice the other burning and aches; both my back and my arms stung as if accosted by an angry swarm of needles, somewhere in the back of my mind I figured I had skinned them both against the tree, but I was more concerned with finding a new place to plant my feet.

"It's coming towards you!"

I dared to look up, watching as the thing in question unfurled its long body and stared at me with its large, beady eyes. As it considered me, it's mouth seemed to open and close absentmindedly, giving me a good view of the hundreds of tiny, needlelike teeth that lined its mouth. Clocking in at twelve inches long and six and a half pounds…

"IT'S JUST A FUCKING CATERPIE!" I roared in anger in response, then turned my attention back to the bug "GO ON, GET LOST!"

The caterpie stared at me with its massive eyes, less than impressed. I growled in response, and pulled up with my left arm, attempting to clamber back up onto the branch. This got the Caterpie's attention, which inched back quickly, and a small part of my psyche glowed in satisfaction.

That satisfaction soured when the bug-type began pelting the offending arm with a sticky, stiff substance. I waved my arm angrily, trying to frighten it off, but the string kept coming.

Unfortunately, while I had been flailing with my left hand, the branch under my right arm was growing wet with blood and sweat.

And then the branch was pulled out from under me. The world jerked and spun as I fell, my limbs flying every which way as they made contact with the branches around me.

There was no sudden stop at the end- only an abrupt pain in my head, and I was watching the night sky behind my eyelids.


I lied upon stone. I was confused for a solitary moment, and I twisted my head to both sides, finding myself in building with walls made entirely of large and irregular stone bricks. Every muscle in my body radiated pain, of an odd variety, as though each fiber wrestled against one another in seizure, and were sore from the ceaseless struggle.

I took a single first breath and felt my nose crinkle involuntarily, the air pungent with the smell of salt and iron, like a bloody sea. I lifted by abdomen from the floor, aware of the shifting of every muscle's movement by the dispersion of pain as the muscles of my lower abdomen briefly overcame my upper abdomen. The movement was terse and inflexible, and it felt almost as though the skin of my body was stretched taught by the motion. Confusion turned briefly to worry, then back to confusion, before being dispersed entirely.

This was after all, normal. The pain was negligible, moderate by typical standards, it was simply the part of the price demanded of living. The scent of blood always filled my nose, why would now be any different? And the sea had always smelled of salt, as it ought to.

Without a second thought to the pain, I fully sat up and examined my surroundings. Two bookcases- full of books on many subjects- dominated the small room. A small cot sat in the corner, with a small desk on the opposite wall, upon which a number of odd tools lay over many pieces of paper covered in unintelligible writing.

"We didn't buy you a bed so you could sleep on the floor."

I knew that voice- curt, but friendly, familiar, feminine. Or, I knew that I knew. Or thought that I knew.

I shrugged and laid back down "It feels odd, I think."

"Is there something wrong with it?"

"I don't think so, but I much preferred your bed."

The girl sighed, the sound laden with concerned exasperation "We're not children anymore, you know that."

"I know, it was just an observation. I think it's too big, it's colder at night than I expected."

"We could buy you more sheets, if it would help. Or more pillows."

I waved away her offer from my spot on the floor "Don't bother, you've already spent more for my comfort than I have contributed. If the need arises, I will purchase it myself, after I pay back your grandfather for all this. I doubt it will be necessary though, I do not sleep much these days anyways."

"Ah, I see…" the voice was concerned, and I braced myself for the question I knew was coming "Is it…nightmares?"

Was it?

"Something like that." I replied vaguely "I also simply do not feel tired. I find myself staying awake, watching through the window as the world goes to rest."

"Dramatic, you've been reading more than you should have, haven't you?"

"I do not know. How much is too much?"

"How many of the books have you finished since we've let you read them?"

"The top two shelves, just about."

"That's more than you would read in a year at the university here, you know that right? Do you even remember what they were about?"

"They were difficult, yeah."

"Wait, these texts are- why would you read those for entertainment? They're as boring as they get."

"It's interesting to me, and I have an affinity for, it would seem. And if I have the ability to learn it better than others, don't I have a duty to do so?"

"That's- no, that's not why you want to learn it. You're worried abou-"

"I'm not worried about anything," I interjected forcefully "I'm interested in exploring a bit, and if I find something that might help avert some disaster down the line, well, so much the better."

"It's not-"

"Maybe, but it's something I'd like to do anyways, what's there to lose?"

"Maybe you should go out and try to make friends, social skills are important too, you know?"

"The people here aren't my biggest fans, by and large. Besides, I've an angel to talk to, what more could I need?"

A laugh "Maybe, but I think you're giving them too little credit. I could introduce you to some people that are curious about you, if you'd like."

"Please, you're about as bad at socializing as I am."

"Not so! I have a few good friends, that's a few more than you!"

"All right, that's…" My voice trailed off, a slight buzzing filled my ears, and for an instant I could have sworn I could count stars on the celling.

"Are you okay?"

I shook myself from my stupor "Yes, just lost myself for a moment, please excuse me." I stood up fully and left, opting not to look at the girl as I passed.


"FUCK!" When I came to, the single-syllable word left my mouth before I knew why I was saying it. And then it hit me.

Pain, pain, pain, and more pain sprouted from my shoulder, as I drifted back and forward mid-swing, suspended halfway up a tree only by a thin glob of sticky thread attached to my wrist. Without thinking my free arm immediately shot to my waist, where by some miracle my knife was still attached to my waistband. I grabbed it hastily, flicked it open, and swiped at the thread suspending me. I swept the blade over the thin thread keeping me suspended, and after four attempts the string frayed and snapped, sending me plummeting again to the ground.

My feet made contact with the ground first, but I was falling to fast and they only barely touched the ground before I fell over onto my side, which radiated pain just as severe as what I felt in my shoulder. A different sort of pain, this felt like an incredibly intense pinch followed by stinging made itself known almost immediately after. I laid there quietly on my back for a moment.

I cried.

I cried and I cried and I cried, and when everything went dark and I reached the point when I would have likely been dehydrated by the sheer quantity of tears I was parting with, I cried harder. The pain was that unbearable, it drowned out everything else.

But when I began adjusting to the great pain, another pain rose to the surface: fear and loneliness. I would die. I would die as Jenny and Lawrence had surely died, because we messed up because I messed up.

So I was content to continue crying.


At some point, I passed out again, and again I dreamed, but this time of a thing. It was cold, and it was hard, like steel, and even as I felt myself coming to I grasped for it half-heartedly.

It could be useful, I knew. I did not know what it was, but somehow I had traded tears for hope.


I waded through the pain to bring myself back into consciousness. When I did so, I didn't bother to look at my injuries, instead I located the areas of greatest pain and traced the fingers of my good arm over them.

My shoulder: misshapen, pressure brought about more pain. I could not push it into it's normal range of motion.

The side I landed on: soft, definitely bruised, pressure brought significant pain.

I paused a moment as I traced my fingers over my side: warm, sticky, and very wet. I placed my hand on the ground, checking around, and finding something cold and sharp and also very wet.

I abandoned it. I didn't want to touch it anymore.

"Holy shit! You're alive! Come on, you have to go!"

I placed my good arm behind me, pushing weekly so that I could turn on my stomach. No dice. Again, no luck.

"Come on! Just roll over!"

I tried again, this time pivoting my hips to try to swing myself onto my stomach. It worked at first, but as I rolled over my shoulder pain erupted like I had never felt before, spots swam before my vision, and I felt faint again.

Blood roared in my ears, and I screamed viscously, not giving into the temptation to surrender my weak grip on consciousness. When I finally managed to reach my stomach, my scream turned into a roar. Everything hurt. Nothing mattered.

I roared.

I still could not move my bad arm, so I didn't try. I inched my legs forward, as a caterpie might, and raised my hips off the ground.

I roared.

With my good arm, I pushed myself up onto my knees, my bad arm pressed against the ground as I first faltered.

I screamed.

My back flew backwards faster than I anticipated, faster than one arm should have been able to send it. My abs pulled against the force, keeping my back from falling on to my back again.

I roared.

I felt something, like a small nudge against my shoulders, righting me before I fell. I staggered onto my feet, throwing myself against the tree to keep myself from falling back to my knees. My bad shoulder connected with the bark, as did the side I fell on.

I roared.

I got my balance again, and stumbled forward, no direction in mind.

I felt a tug, a nudge in another direction. I- being too weak to resist it- stumbled along with it. Step after step into the night, every foot before the other punctuated by a grunt, led on and kept steady in complete darkness by invisible hands on my shoulders.

And then suddenly, the hands were gone. I fell onto my face, right before a fire, and screamed in pain.

A sound of shock burst from the other side of the fire. Maybe human? Maybe? I heard feet scrambling in the dirt, rushing towards me. More human sounds, but I didn't have the energy to make the sounds into words. Two hands grabbed me roughly, trying to turn me onto my back, but tried to do so by rolling me over my bad shoulder, causing me to scream.

The hands retreated, but returned seconds later, prodding my injured shoulder. Next I felt them in the crook of my elbow, grabbing firmly, and another hand landed on my wrist, and what I thought was a knee on my back. The hands gently guided my into a specific position, testing it's range of motion, then pulled lightly on it, and rammed it into it's socket with great force.

I screamed and roared and thrashed, but the knee kept me pinned.

The hands again tried to turn me over, this time successfully. My savior spent a moment looking at my face, but I could not make out his features against the darkness I tried to form words to communicate what had happened "Yo-you, it's…"

"Quiet, save you breath" he examined my side, where I knew I was cut "What is your favorite color?"

"Why..." I started, but no sooner had I uttered the words had he clamped his hand over my mouth, and I felt another hand pinch my nose. I tried to struggle, but I was already weak, and his question had confused me such that by the time I realized I was being suffocated, was already faint. My savior said something, maybe and apology?

And then I finally closed my eyes.

You know what? I'm not even going to ask you to review, nope. I've concluded that, on the grounds I've received no criticism or tips or feedback from anyone other than Cornova (thanks for that, by the way, stay awesome) that my writing is flawless and had left everyone that has read it speechless. Yeah. that's totally it. So review if you want, or don't. Midterms are next week, so I'm outta here!.