If there was one way to enjoy the desert, then going at breakneck speeds on the back of a metal monstrosity with the arid desert winds whipping at your face was probably it. The one-wheeled motorbike was a giant middle finger to physics, aerodynamics, and environmentalism. It spat fire and smoke like a Torkoal, and its massive engine was a mixture of pistons, tubes, and the roars of a territorial Tyrannitar.

Had anyone been around to see the metal deathtrap flying past the dunes, they would not have been able to hear the rider let out a whoop of enthusiasm and adrenaline over the rumble of the machinery. But as it was, the two Pokemon sitting in the copilot seat could hear their master just fine. And they could not help but be in similarly high spirits.

As the motorbike tore past the landscape and left eddies of sand in its wake, an Umbreon clambered fearlessly onto the hood of the side car, ears pinned back and leaning sharply forward into the wind. His brother remained in the seat, too used to the dark type's antics to bother worrying about him. But even through the Espeon's cool composure, a satisfied look adorned his face and the red stone on his forehead undulated with excited abandon. Their master's zeal was especially contagious, bouncing through both of them via their close connection cemented further by their nearly telepathic Synchronize ability.

Both Pokemon had been aware of the festering resentment and restlessness that had been building up inside their trainer for months. Whatever Wes felt, they could feel, and they understood him on a level no human had hope to reach. For him to free himself from his invisible shackles to Snagem- with the help of some heavy duty explosive- meant that they also felt relief.

It was good to be on the move again. To answer to no one! To live for themselves! Only trusting their brothers, because brother Wes was to them. Master and trainer, but brother above all.

They owed Wes their lives and he owed them his. Through thick and thin, they relied on each other and no one else.

And they bore their given names with pride. Wes only called them by name when they weren't around others. Their names were symbols of trust. Pride. Promises. Family. No one else set foot in their circle because they didn't need anyone else.

Where they would go next, they knew not. But they would gladly chase the horizon and snatch whatever prizes it held in store, fighting against fortune when they had to.

Perhaps it was not an ideal life.

But what kind of life would that be, anyway?

(~)

Short chapter yes, but I've been going through both good things and rough times and very hectic schedules, and I feel like I needed a small something before I got back to Wes' perspective. Also, I revised my old chapter just slightly, changed it so Ferma and Reath accompanied Miror B to see Gonzap rather than Beanie and Burnout.

I hope any fellow Americans had a nice Thanksgiving. My schedule is a bit more manageable this week, so hopefully I will be able to start working on the next chapter rather soon.

-Akira