A/N: You know, Pelipper was supposed to be a one-off character. The prologue of Anomaly was supposed to be her one side story, after which she'd be relegated to the sidelines for who-knows-how-long.

Well. Sometimes, people surprise you. And not all legends have to be flashy, world-shattering affairs.

Written in part for PMD Writers' Union's 2022 One-shot competition, on the theme of 'Three Days Left'. They have an account here on FFN with the full collection on it, so do give it a read sometime.

With that, hope you enjoy.


Three days. Seventy-two hours. Approximately four-thousand, three-hundred and twenty minutes, and counting.

A short length of time, admittedly, in the grand scheme of things. Too short, some might say, for any but the fastest Pokemon to cross half the known world.

Three days ago, Pelipper might have agreed. And – it wasn't hard to see why. You only had to look at how the day went.

It began at dawn, or a bit before. Five minutes to shake the sleepiness from her eyes when she awoke. Then ten minutes for a small breakfast of berries. Twenty more for her morning flight, practicing her Tailwind as she lazily flew to town.

By the time Pelipper arrived at the Post Center, ready for her morning route, an hour had passed. An hour in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

Another equally short hour later, Pelipper snapped out of a daydream to find herself landing in the first village on her route. A few pleasantries exchanged with the locals, and then she was off again.

Every day for the last five years.

It wore at her nerves, as much as Pelipper disliked admitting it; flying day in and day out did that to a Pokemon. Oh sure, there were a few interesting requests from time to time, ferrying personal letters, or old mementos, or something else of the sort.

But those were exceptions to the rule. A scant few days when life deviated from the path she'd set, before everything blurred into a colourless streak once more.

Sometimes, Pelipper wondered if that was what old 'mons felt. Nothing seemed to change. Nothing seemed to happen. Time marched on, and on, faster and faster-

And then Pelipper was already cruising back to the Post Center, roughly six hours into the day. Off to lunch and a small break, before heading out for her afternoon route.

Normal. Boring. Maybe she'd eat at the tavern this time, change things up that way. The Post Center would have snacks for a hungry messenger – Postmaster Marowak made sure of it – but those weren't exactly flavourful. Filling, Pelipper would concede, but-

That plan went straight out the window when the Post Center came into view.

The first sign that the day was not normal was the mass of Pokemon gathered outside the Post Center, trying to peek in.

The second was the sight of Postmaster Marowak herself standing in the doorway, bone club in hand.

As Pelipper watched, a little Sandshrew tried scurrying past Marowak, only to receive a not-so-gentle tap on the head. Marowak brandished her weapon at everyone crowding around her, shouting something about...

Before Pelipper knew it, the wind was billowing at her back, propelling her towards the Post Center. The light pink glow of Agility flared to life along her wings, sending her shooting through the sky.

Because something was happening there in the Post Center. A something which hadn't been there that morning, Pelipper was fairly sure.

And, by the looks of it, something big; as Pelipper drew closer, she noticed a veritable forest of feathers through the open roof. White, and blue, and yellow... Even the green of what had to be a Tropius from out of town.

Naturally, Pelipper sped up.

Strangely, though, despite the number of messenger Pokemon gathered, they weren't nearly as rowdy the crowd outside. Quite the opposite, actually; they seemed to be fairly subdued, discussing something discreetly.

And... tensely?

Pelipper stopped flapping for a moment, mind puzzling as her momentum carried her on. Somewhere in the back of her head, an alarm began to ring.

Then her Tailwind instantly doubled in speed.

If none of the messengers were doing anything – and some of them were actually flying out, Pelipper saw – then something really big was going on.

Or something really bad. A new Mystery Dungeon devouring a nearby town? A rogue Rescue Team on the loose? Some new, terrifying disease spreading around?

Pelipper left those thoughts behind as she pushed herself even faster.

Fast enough then that the winds were picking up in the town. The crowd hassling the Post Center shifted, finally noticing the white-blue comet streaking through the sky. Some, the ones who knew Pelipper, groaned and covered their ears. Postmaster Marowak took one look, sighed, then bonked the Sandshrew as he tried sneaking in again.

A mere second away from impact, Pelipper released her Tailwind, slingshotting the wall of air across the town with a boom as she slammed to a dead stop. She didn't wait before transitioning into a steep dive, falling into the Post Center as quickly she had arrived.

She was greeted by about a dozen pairs of annoyed eyes when she landed.

"-Ah, sorry for the noise. Came as quick as I could when I saw-"

"Fancy flying. You here to take the job?" a Fearow grunted. Pelipper didn't know him. Nor did she register his words at first.

Then she did, and her mind blanked. The stares turned appraising, piercing, measuring the newcomer, waiting for her to declare-

"Pardon? The... job?"

A pause, as the Fearow blinked. Pelipper thought she felt the eyes turning away.

"You don't know...? Guess not. Special request came in, courtesy of an explorer from 'cross the sea. Says he's from Equinox or somesuch."

A bit odd, considering that guilds usually did their business through larger, more well-established Post Centers. Not one with just four messengers to its name, including the night flier.

But individual members putting in a request? Hardly unusual enough to cause such a fuss.

"...That's it?"

The Fearow let out a snorting laugh. "Wouldn't be here if it was, would we? Nah, he's asking for three days, all the way to the edge of the Mist Continent."

He let Pelipper work out the math, grinning with an almost fatalistic humour as she let out a squawk.

"Just three?"

"Non-negotiable, he says. Noon in three days, or it's good as useless."

"Oh. Priority delivery?" It sounded like one. "But - why the strict deadline?"

"'Cause by then there might be nobody left to deliver to."

"...What?"

The Fearow shrugged as Pelipper turned her full attention onto him. "His words, not mine. Ask him if you want, he's squirreled away in the back. Only seeing 'mons serious about it, though. You one of 'em?"

It was an opportunity, clearly. One that intrigued and concerned Pelipper in equal measure. A relief mission? She'd flown one or two of those before. But one over such a distance...

Well, actually... Pelipper found herself toying around with the idea. If, hypothetically, she stuffed herself full of Chesto berries and Elixirs...

"I... Maybe."

"Really?" Pelipper felt the Fearow scrutinising her. "First time I've heard that. Most here don't even consider. The ones that do go striding in, then they come out acting like they met Rayquaza on a bad day."

"Not fast enough?"

"Something spooked 'em. They won't tell what it is." The Fearow shrugged. "Think you can do better?"

Pelipper barely registered the words. A plan was already forming in her mind. She'd flown cross-continent before. Not that far, but she'd done it.

And speed? She had the meanest Tailwind for a hundred kilometres around.

But both at the same time? Dubious. Very much so. Yet... Pelipper found herself being drawn to the idea. For a second, curiosity and good sense fought, before bravado came into the mix. A vague yearning for something more.

Foolishness. Insanity. This was the sort of thing Marowak would hit her for even considering. But she had to try, didn't she? If she was turned away, it was maybe half an hour lost. She could easily make up the time on her route. If she wasn't turned away...

"Noon in three days, you said? So the time's ticking."

"Yea. So you're really- Oh, by Rayquaza's scaly ass. You are. Hey. Hey! Tell me what's in there when you make it out!"


This didn't feel like something that happened to her. Not to a simple Pelipper living in the middle of nowhere, with no great deeds to her name.

Yet the journey... she could make it. It was possible.

Pelipper thought through it again and again, coming to the same conclusion each time. Trying not to shrink away from the Weavile pacing in front of her. Although dark bags underlined his eyes, a sharp gaze still stared out from behind them.

"You say you can do it?"

"Maybe. If-"

"And let me stop you right there. This isn't something that luck gets you through. Three days, almost no rest, weather conditions-"

The Weavile began saying something else, then bit the words back. Pelipper tried again.

"Okay. Look here. Given that I bring three- four Elixirs with me, I can make it to the coast by... noon tomorrow, comfortably. I can maintain the same pace across the sea, so if – given that I have a few dozen Chesto berries with me, it's possible for me to fly through the night, reach the Mist Continent in time. A storm – I've flown through them before. I know how to deal with them."

If you were fast enough with a Protect, if you felt the static building, you could deflect a stray thunderbolt. A technique that Pelipper had trained almost obsessively when she'd found out about it.

But the Weavile just made a face.

"What about a hurricane?"

Pelipper blinked. Opened her beak. She considered her next words carefully.

"Ah, is that a figure of speech, or are you talking about an actual..."

The Weavile shook his head.

"I don't believe in sending messengers to their deaths. So: right now, there's a hurricane at sea, moving towards the Mist Continent. To get to your destination, you'll have to fly through it."

"But why-"

"Because in three days' time, that hurricane will hit my home. One of my guild's outposts, right on the coast. We had preparations, but – this year, things have changed. Two hundred Pokemon – I need somebody to get there first."

The Weavile waited for a reaction. Surprise. Incredulity. Anger, perhaps, for putting forth such an absurd request. He wouldn't blame her.

What he received was a look of calm contemplation.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this sounds like a job for a Dragonite. Or a Salamence."

"Yes," the Weavile replied, clenching his claws. "Yes, it is."

They stood in silence for a minute, neither Pokemon moving, neither Pokemon speaking. The weight of the mission hung in the air between them.

But a hurricane. Plipper had heard the stories. Winds as fast as her – faster, even. Thunderbolts left and right. Visibility so low you could fly in circles and never come out.

But wasn't that what she had prepared for? The reason she'd practised her Tailwind, again and again and again?

Here was an opportunity to make a name for herself. A way to do more than just live out her small life in this small town.

And – Pelipper looked into the Weavile's eyes and saw a dead 'mon walking. The eyes of someone who'd ran across the world for a miracle, only to find the finish line beyond a bottomless chasm.

Two hundred souls. Pelipper broke the silence.

"I... Honestly, I'm not sure if I can do it. But for five years, I've flown this Post Center's mail. From dawn all the way to dusk, by moonlight if I had to. I've flown through storms for a single letter, through a blizzard for a single Orb."

Pelipper stood straight, a wing outstretched. Its feathers rustled gently, touched by a fresh breeze.

"Rain or shine, high winds or clear skies; I say there's a chance. And I'm willing to take it."

For a moment, the Weavile was silent. Then, he snorted. Chuckled. A slight smile crept into his face.

"Spoken like a true explorer. Brave idiots, every single one of them." The Weavile's smile flickered, settling back into a grimace.

"You're sure you can do this?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But on my honour as a messenger, I'll... I'll try as hard as I can."

"Hah. Good enough for me." The Weavile reached into the bag at his side, pulling out a detailed map and a small, rainbow-striped seed.

"Dived through half a thousand Dungeons for this," he said, smirking at Pelipper's surprise. "Keep it safe. There's a Charizard there you'd want to give this to. Fire on his tail; you can't miss it. Elixirs, Chestos..."

The Weavile went through his bag, then plucked a few more from the shelves around him. A ream of waterproof fabric, too, which he sliced up and wrapped around the seed. Pelipper almost protested, but the Weavile waved a claw.

"I'll pay it back, don't worry. And here," he said, unpinning the badge on his bag. A four-pointed star against a speckled night sky. The Weavile pinned it to a strap on Pelipper's bag.

"That's your guild?"

"Yes," the Weavile grunted, helping Pelipper load the package into her bag. "Equinox Society. 'To the heights of the mountains, to the depths of the sea.' Say it to them if you lose the badge."

The map went into the outside pouch; Pelipper would read it later, when she rested for the night.

Double-checks. Triple-checks. Ten minutes, as the two Pokemon quickly hammered out the plan and raided the Post Center's stores for everything they needed.

It was mania, pure and simple. Of two small Pokemon against the power of nature. By the end, a hopeful smile was on the Weavile's face. A daring one graced Pelipper's.

"Fly safe, messenger," the explorer bid her. Pelipper saluted with a wing before turning around and leaping into the air.


As much as Post Centers were designed for fliers in mind, most didn't account for a Pokemon taking off from anywhere but the room specifically designated for it.

Pelipper made it work.

Outside, a Fearow snapped to attention as the air began to shift. A Marowak turned and cursed, and the Sandshrew hounding her watched, wide-eyed, as the air whirled and danced, tensing as if stretched like a spring.

Marowak flung up a Protect just in time to block the wall of air flung their way, rocking the walls of the Post Center – and more than a few messengers – with an earth-shattering boom.

Amidst the crowd of scattered fliers, the Fearow looked on, laughing at the sheer insanity on display. Marowak watched her best flier disappear with disappointment and a hint of pride, then considered conscripting the fliers gathered to run the routes.

And the Sandshrew watched with sparkling eyes as Pelipper shot away like a comet, higher and higher, the wind carrying back an echo of her laugh. It was a scene he would remember for as long he lived.

Marowak let him have his moment, then clonked him on the head one last time for being such a little pest.

Seventy-two hours left.


8 hours in, Pelipper learned the hard way that Elixirs were not meant to be ingested once every hour. Still, she pushed herself until she felt the lull of sleep, then descended into a forest to plan and rest.

18 hours in, Pelipper woke up, refreshed and free of aches. She went easy with her Tailwind, relying more on Agility to maintain her pace. She was ahead of schedule, according to the map. Might as well conserve energy before the push across the sea.

23 hours in, Pelipper finally reached the coast. She'd kept herself busy thinking whether this was a good idea, decided that was an excellent way to strip down her morale, then resorted to counting clouds instead.

She got to 5096 before she decided to do something else.

26-

27-

28-

29 hours in, Pelipper felt the first sign of fatigue. A brief flagging in her wing, which disappeared when she ate an Oran. She briefly considered how that one berry was worth more than what she earned in a week. Then went back to counting clouds.

7605. Or 7604, if she'd miscounted that cloud from an hour ago. 7606 now.

30 hours in, the sun finally set, and Pelipper continued flying. She ate a Chesto, the first of many that journey. The clouds were far too dark to see, so Pelipper thought about counting stars instead.

She took a glance at the kaleidoscope of constellations dotting the sky, then gave up and went back to the clouds.

36 hours. Not much, except for a vague notion that it was midnight. Pelipper had never stayed up so late before. Early to bed and early to rise, and all that.

She scarfed down her seventh berry of the night.

42 hours. The sun rose again. Pelipper continued flying. No wonder so few Pokemon did inter-continental deliveries; she was bored out of her mind, and she was... she didn't know how far into her journey. Her wings were really bothering her too; she pushed away the nagging thoughts that her body wouldn't last.

Oh, and 13000 or so. Give or take maybe 50. Or 100. Not more than 200, Pelipper was pretty sure.

48 hours. The sun shone high. One day left, and Pelipper had almost depleted her supply of Chestos. She stretched her eyes wide, hoping that the bright sunlight would stop her from falling asleep.

It worked. Mostly. She'd caught herself before she hit the ground. Well, water. Which might've been worse. Pelipper imagined herself falling into that infinite abyss, deep and dark and-

No. No. Pelipper fixed her eyes on the horizon, refusing to let them stray down. 17000 clouds. Not 17500. Not yet.

52 hours. Two more till dusk. Pelipper was relieved, in a way. Twenty-thousand clouds, and she just needed to count one more.

It was a big cloud, though. Quite big, and quite dark. Swirling on a scale she couldn't even comprehend. A sign that her destination was close.

Pelipper ate her last Chesto, drank all the Elixirs she had left. She threw the bottles into the sea, shedding as much weight as she could for the final stretch. The hurricane beckoned to her, and she answered. A flap into-

...Darkness. Rain.

Night? ...Day?

Thunder lashing... deaf...

On, on. Against the wind; keep... course.

22000? 24000? 22222222-

Protect. Protect. Phantom... Something...

...age. Rage. So...

Thump. Thump. Heartbea...

...So noisy...

On and on and on and

High winds. Clear skies. Try. Again. Again. A-

...Silence.

Silence.

24765. 24766. 24767. 247...6...

Is- that-

...

...

...


...

A bright sun, shining onto golden sand. A salty breeze, languid yet persistent, blowing in from the open ocean.

Up above was a clear blue sky, harbouring promises of balmy weather, of a pleasant day. Yet on the horizon, the slightest trace of darkened stormclouds peeked in, a herald of the rains to come.

They looked so far away. Floating in slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world.

The sun gave them no attention, continuing its trek across the sky. The sea winds shifted imperceptibly, then shrugged, continuing to blow as they always did.

So the clouds rolled in, like an unexpected guest you weren't quite rude enough to turn away.

Stretching on, and on, and on, and on and on and-

The clouds didn't end, not when they barged closer to the shore, displacing the flocks of Pokemon flying along the coast. They didn't end, not when they blotted out the sun, casting their shadow over the beach.

Such was the power of the oncoming storm that the sea began to shift, roiling under the raging winds and curtains of rain. Waves lapped against the shore, gently at first, then more and more intense-

Splash.

The waves touched something that shouldn't have been there. A slight bump on the otherwise smooth beach.

Splash.

A feather-covered mound of... something, curled tight around a drenched fabric bag.

Splash.

Some poor soul lost at sea, perhaps? Driven back to shore by the oncoming storm?

Splash.

But this was the Mist Continent, where Swanna and Unfezant flew the routes. Not... Pelipper. Not here.

Splash.

At some point, the rain began to fall, putting divots into the sun-soaked beach. The Pelipper curled tighter as she felt the drops of rain on her feathers, shielding her precious cargo from the water.

Splash.

Were it not for the howling winds, perhaps a passer-by would have heard her mumbling in her sleep. Mumbling about staying awake, staying airborne. Mumbling about a delivery that had to be made.

Splash.

But the sky wasn't supposed to feel sandy, was it? The rain wasn't supposed to slide against your feathers, pulling one way, then the other.

And the sounds of thunder – she'd left them behind, she remembered that. So why did it sound like they were getting closer-

Lightning striking the sea. Thunder filling the sky. Roaring winds deafening even the rain, battering against her Tailwind as she floundered through the air. She swore she could hear that malevolent vortex laughing with each spear of lightning hurled her way; mocking her hubris, her exhaustion, her futile, desperate hope.

But she had made a promise. So she'd propped herself awake, even as her mind began to drift. Kept pumping her wings, pleading them to ignore the burden of days of flight, of hours upon hours of sustained Agility.

The waves were lapping higher and higher with each minute, half-dragging the Pelipper with them as they came and went. For a moment in the cycle, the waves washed up over her head-

And she was back in the hurricane, sinking. Drowning. Up, a fragment of her mind screamed, above the waves! – Hurry-

A choking gasp. Wings beating on sand. Amidst the whipping winds of an approaching hurricane, surrounded by the lashing cracks of thunder and lightning, a scant two hours before her delivery was due-

The Pelipper finally jerked awake.


70 hours in. Pelipper coughed out the water from her lungs. Desperately pumped her wings against the sand, trying to-

Sand?

Pelipper coughed out the last of it, then looked down to find an unfamiliar shore. The pouring rain finally registered, and she looked back up into the distance.

"Oh. So that wasn't... a dream... Oh, no-"

She grabbed at her bag with her beak, flipping the cover off. The package was still in there, she noted, sighing. Then, she rummaged through the bag, searching for-

Aha. Paper. Pelipper yanked out the map, shielding it from the rain with a wing. If she was correct, then...

Pelipper looked around her to find a distinct lack of landmarks. Her anxiety returned twofold.

She looked back at the hurricane. Then cursed, and stuffed the map back into the bag. Inland. A bit inland. They had a beacon in a small cove, she remembered the Weavile saying. Something that would be obvious, even in the rain.

Wait- the badge. Still attached, thank goodness. Pelipper took off, and barely hesitated before picking a direction.

Two hours. She hoped the Weavile was accurate. In two hours, the hurricane would reach roughly...

A pink glow wrapped around Pelipper before promptly fading. She pushed it back in, flying off.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Pelipper strained her battered wings, squeezed her Tailwind as far as she could.

Faster.

How long passed in aching silence? Not too long, Pelipper hoped. Her sense of time had degraded in the past... three? Yes, it was three days.

And – Aha. There it was. A distant light, dimmed by the rain. What seemed to be a pile of Luminous Orbs – for nothing else could be that bright – were piled together on a cliff, shining for kilometers around.

Pelipper limped towards it, second by painful second. The winds were picking up, and the bulk of the hurricane had arrived. How much time was there left? Enough, hopefully.

On the cliff was a lone figure huddled behind a cloak, looking around. Definitely someone there, then. They waved as Pelipper drew closer.

Release Tailwind. Stop. Dive, and...

The Pokemon called out as Pelipper almost smacked straight into the ground. The rain muffled most of it.

"What?"

The call repeated-

"I can't hear you!"

At least some of Pelipper's meaning got through, or the Pokemon became impatient. They gestured down the cliff, before jumping off. Pelipper flapped to the edge to find them bounding down the rocks, and beneath-

A large town, bigger than any that Pelipper had seen before. Tens of houses lined the waterline of the cove, and many more seemed to be carved into the cliff faces all around. Pelipper watched as Pokemon were bundled into the caves, before they were sealed tight with a layer of clay. Teams of Pokemon were firing the clay, reinforcing it against the winds-

There. Quick.

Wings. Tail-fire. Charizard. Pelipper dropped down into the town, more gliding than flying. The Charizard didn't notice at first, directing another plume of fire over a clay wall.

"Hey. Hey!"

"Watch the temperature- What?"

"Delivery! I'm from the Air Continent – a Weavile sent me!"

Pelipper gestured at the badge on her bag, and the Charizard's eyes lit up.

"Weav- The madmon actually did it? What'd he send?"

Pelipper mumbled something through her beak, lifting the package from her bag. Unwrapping it as fast as she could. But she was tired. Sore.

The sea outside lurched higher. The Charizard handed over command before taking apart the package himself. Layer by layer, careful not to damage the precious contents.

"Oh. Ohh. An Empowerment Seed! That – Hah! I'm treating him to drinks when he gets back! You too, messenger!"

Pelipper managed a small smile before collapsing onto the ground. Three days. Her role was done.

She watched as the Charizard bit into the seed, releasing a plume of warm white energy. Watched as he grew bigger, taller, a third horn pressing out from the middle of his head.

The winds softened. The rain slowed to a drip. In the sky high above, a hole opened in the clouds, letting sunlight through.

"Hah. Hah! Eat Drought, hurricane! Not this year, you hear me? Not this time!"

He was gritting his teeth with the effort. But he was grinning, making rude gestures at the sky. Mocking it as the clouds retreated, finding elsewhere to go.

He held the storm back for twelve hours. Twelve hours in which Pelipper huddled in one of the caves herself, reacquainting with the wonder that was social interaction. She listened as explorers who'd travelled the world regaled everyone with their stories, as regular townsfolk swapped ghost stories. She spoke when the time came, of her journey across a continent and a sea.

They held a round of drinks in her honour. After jabbing at her for counting so many clouds, of course. Seriously, who did that? Everybody knew that the best way to entertain yourself was...

Pelipper just leaned back, away from the heated debate beginning to form. She'd done it. She had to keep reminding herself about that.

And so Pelipper went to sleep under a cloudless sky, with a new shining badge on her bag. Body sore from days of flying, and dozens of very enthusiastic pats on her back. But she didn't mind the pain, the exhaustion, the overwhelming joy.

For the first time in a long while, tomorrow felt like a new day.