A/N - Thanks for all reads, reviews, faves and follows! =D Returning readers may notice some significant changes by this point. It's a lot of fun incorporating ideas I gained much later on after finishing the original write-up. I hope you enjoy them! Whereas the general plot remains the same, the changes become much more apparent later down the line.

10 - Nocturnal Noises

The Riverclaw whizzed along the wide river, frothy spray licking her sides and clinging to Enigma's fur. He hunched over the gunwale, groaning at every sudden lurch as the narrow boat dodged rocks and tore through river weed. His stomach had long since evacuated its contents over the side, but that didn't stop it from trying again. He wound his claws in his mane and turned, before sinking down as far as he could against the port side.

Harlequin chuckled from beside him, and he looked up to see the zorua shaking their head.

"Really can't handle a boat, huh?" Harlequin gazed out at the trees whizzing by, dark sentries against the fiery sunset sky. "The things you'll do to 'ease your boredom'."

Enigma scoffed and tipped his head back against the cool wood.

"You've gone the colour of an oran berry," said Harlequin.

"Don't mention berries," Enigma groaned.

He scrambled back to his feet and leant over the gunwale again. It was fruitless. He screwed his eyes shut and lowered his face into his paws.

"You'd have been much better off travelling on foot," said Harlequin.

"It would have taken too long," said Enigma. "You had a point. This is much faster." Then he added under his breath, "Just a little longer now…"

Harlequin had heard it, and let out a single laugh. But they didn't say anything, instead watching the water whip up against the port. The evening breeze whirled through the zorua's fur, and their muzzle relaxed in a contented smile. Enigma turned his own gaze to the water, and he caught a glimpse of a school of wishiwashi cleaving a path upstream through the froth before vanishing beyond the stern. The only other life he'd seen. The Outcasts and outlaws were all in hiding, the latter of which had been left far behind in the Border Woods.

It hadn't taken long for the crew to relax around the two assassins. They soon realised they weren't their targets, and they busied about behind the pair, making sure the boxes were strapped down and the deck was free of hazards. The rodents nattered among themselves above the sound of the racing water and the sails whipping about in the fall breeze. The raticate hadn't joined them, instead sticking back with a number of his mob to deal with the supplies the Riverclaw had brought back.

If it wasn't for the gnawing, churning sensation in his stomach, the journey would admittedly be quite peaceful. The air was cool, and the splash of the water was soothing enough to fall asleep to. Something he desperately wanted to do, and sleep didn't come easily to the banette. Still, he found his eyes drifting shut as he leant over the gunwale, the cool froth soaking through his grey fur.

He wasn't sure how long he remained like that. Harlequin barely made a peep, save for the odd snuffle and the scrape of claws on the woodwork.

Enigma's heart lurched as a sudden yell shocked his eardrums. Both he and Harlequin leapt back from the gunwale. Rattata raced back and forth along the ship, steadying the cargo and unleashing the anchor. The chain clattered through its feed in the side of the ship before letting out a loud splash as it smashed its way through the water. At the helm, a morpeko barked orders while violently steering the ship towards the bank.

The creak was deafening, drawing the to assassins' eyes towards the woods ahead. A huge, ancient tree tilted sideways, picking up speed as it flopped across the river. A huge, knotted barrier of bark and rope-like ivy. The anchor was down, but the chain was still clattering away as the force of the rapids propelled the Riverclaw onward, towards the fallen sycamore.

Harlequin stared, slack-jawed, their fur on end down their spine like a startled mighteyena.

Enigma gave himself a mental shake and leapt towards the helm, shoving the morpeko aside. His claws radiated shadowy energy, and, with a graceful flourish, he sent a shadowball into the side of the tree. It shattered, raining down splinters into the water and across the deck. It had carved a jagged gap just big enough for the boat to squeeze through.

Just.

The splintered stumps scraped against the hull, creating a deafening hollow screech. A series of worrying cracks resounded above it, and, unable to get the wide tail end the rest of the way through, the ship finally came to a stop.

The crew calmed, staring at the shattered tree aghast. Two of the rattata clambered over the gunwale to check on the damage, but Enigma was more interested in the tree. Something didn't smell right. A tree that size? He hopped off the stern to walk along the thick, gnarled trunk.

"That's never happened before," said one of the rattata. "But I guess like landslides and floods, these things can be pretty hard to predict?"

Like landslides and floods? Sure, trees fell from time to time. Especially if they'd rotted, or been caught in a strong gale. But the winds had been minor, and they weren't blowing in the right direction for the tree to have fallen across the river. There were no slopes nearby, either. The ground was flat.

Enigma perched near the tree's base and trailed his claws over the wound. Warm sap clung to his fur. No, the edge wasn't jagged enough for it to have snapped. Smooth, as if it had been cleaved. Not a clean cleave, either. Part of the trunk had cracked beneath the tree's weight, leaving a jagged splintered end on one side. The weight had snapped the ivy, leaving a ropey trail of green in the tree's wake.

"Is there a problem?" Harlequin perched beside him.

Enigma rubbed the sap between his claws and stood back, gazing off into the trees. "This was no accident."

Harlequin glanced over the damage and hopped off the tree, landing softly in the grass. "No, I'd say not."

Then what? It didn't leave many culprits. The Outcasts had been warring with the Darkness for years. A desperate cheap shot wouldn't be against them. Unless the ship was their target?

The Riverclaw crew were scrambling over the ship, examining the damage while several of them perched on the ship's gunwale and the river bank, searching the woods with frantic eyes.

A voice came from the other side of the boat, "We've got a breach! Water's just flooding in!"

At that, those still on the ship either leapt to help or bailed onto the bank in a panic.

Enigma stood sharply to sound his bell. A few of the rattata froze, their fur bristling. It was the morpeko who turned to him, his eyes narrowed in a warning leer.

Enigma was unfazed, examining the sap in his claws. "Do you have any enemies out here?"

The crew exchanged baffled glances, and the morpeko snorted, meeting Enigma's eyes.

"Of course we've got enemies," he said. "More than you do. But no one's tried to crash our ship before. If I were to guess, I'd say you two planned this whole thing."

Enigma narrowed his eyes at the morpeko and twitched his claws. A soft tug at his scarf drew his eye back onto Harlequin.

"Leave them." Harlequin's voice was muffled around the heavy fabric. The zorua dropped it and stepped aside. "They got us this far. It's not much further now. We'll just have to be on our guard."

That was fairly normal.

Harlequin sniffed the air, and a funny look Enigma couldn't decipher crossed their face. But it swiftly vanished. They jerked their head back towards the Riverclaw and gave the crew a nod. Not that the crew noticed. They were too busy trying to rescue their sinking boat and its cargo.

"Thank you for getting us this far," said Harlequin. "I hope you manage to recover Riverclaw."

If it was meant to placate the crew, it did very little. But a majority of them were too shaken to show any aggression, and several had already begun to prise the hull free from the fallen tree's death grip. The boat jerked towards them with a groan, and one rodent unfortunate enough to be on board flopped against the port side before tumbling into the shallows.

Keeping one eye on the outlaws, Enigma smoothed out his scarf and turned to follow Harlequin into the trees. If they weren't the target for that tree, then that meant he and Harlequin likely were. A cheap shot to be rid of two of Hydreigon's top assassins, and sink a group of dark-types, too. If the ship had been shattered by that huge tree, very few of them would have survived. His crimson eyes flitted over the shadows, trying to spot their assailant. But the woods were as barren as he'd expected them to be.

...

Harbinger cowered behind the knot of brambles, squinting at the two figures as they wound through the trees. Two assassins. Harlequin and Enigma, both on high alert, searching the shadows for their assailant. For him. He'd been right. They were aboard that boat, he'd not imagined it.

The pawniard twins crouched beside Harbinger, their yellow eyes wide and fearful. Not so much as a scratch came from the pair, neither of them wanting to draw attention to themselves. They'd tried to talk Harbinger out of it. But he couldn't have passed up a chance like that. He just hadn't calculated the banette's ability to destroy that tree. It was too thick. It shouldn't have worked. The boat should have shattered against it, if not been crushed beneath the sycamore's weight.

Destruction. That was all the banette was good for. Everything he touched died. Why couldn't he smash his way through a tree?

No… it was a miscalculation. That was all. If Harbinger had thought things through, he could have felled the tree a few seconds later. Then both assassins would be out of the picture.

He narrowed his eyes at Harlequin's retreating tail, anger bubbling up inside him, threatening to overflow. No… he had to keep cool. One wrong move and he and his two friends would be dead.

He'd have to think this through. No putting a paw wrong. No acting on the heat of rage. For now, he'd have to keep a close eye on the assassins and strike when the time was right.

...

The sun was rapidly setting, painting dramatic black clouds across a backdrop of orange and red. Normally, the dry river would be moving away from the crimson sky. Fleeing it. At sunset, the sky was always red over the Shadow Lands. A warning to any wandering Outcasts to go the other way.

Cleo looked back at it over her shoulder, and a cold chill raced down her spine. They'd been out too long. Their minds lost in the search for pokemon that possibly no longer lived in the mountains. They'd either fled or been killed by the poison, leaving behind only one. An oversight? It was beginning to look like it.

"Cleo, I really think we need to get back." Spark's voice was steady, but her twitching back and forth in Cleo's ruff was enough of a sign she felt the same unsettling feeling.

A feeling the sunset always brought. The fire before the storm of shadows and claws.

Cleo gave a stiff nod as she stared along the river into the darkening trees. "You're right. We can always come back out here tomorrow. Get an early start?"

If there was any confidence in her voice, it didn't show. They'd already searched. What were they even looking for anymore?

"Cleo, we already found the pachirisu," said Spark. "If there really were pokemon living here in peace, then it's big news. It's not a lost cause."

It was as if the dedenne had read her mind. Cleo nodded again and turned back to return to New City. "You're right. The pachirisu is enough evidence, for now at least. Tomorrow, we can go and investigate the noivern site."

"Are you sure?" Spark asked. "You don't want to come back here?"

"My curiosity is kind of sated," said Cleo. "And we really do need to finish what Tinker asked of us."

"I can help him." Mischief's voice stunned Cleo into silence.

She looked up at the whimsicott. He'd been following them silently, and now stood facing her, trailing a foot-paw in the dried grass.

"You want to help Tinker?" The surprise in her voice reflected on his face. She waved a paw at their surroundings. "After seeing all this?"

"Yes." He gave a single nod. "I was unsure at first. To be honest… after seeing those poor seviper, and all the damage it's done, I just wanted to run. But we found that little pachirisu, and… Well, seeing what you guys do, looking for survivors… Sure, we haven't found any. But I want to help you." He looked up and met her eyes, all spirit returning in an instant. "I want to join the Guild, like you two."

Cleo's jaw went slack and she stuttered for a moment as she processed all this. Earlier, this pokemon had been so shocked by everything that the wind had been taken out of his sails. Now it was back with a perseverance Cleo found both admirable and foolish.

Shock could make someone do one of two things - fight or flee. Mischief had not fled. He'd been given the option to, but he'd stuck by them.

Now he wanted to join them.

"You want to join the Guild?" she finally managed to stutter out.

"Yes. I've been thinking. I want to help other pokemon, like you do," he said. "If there's so much evil out there, then I want to help stop it. It's not fair that so many pokemon have to suffer like this, and it's not fair to run from it either! If I can help in any way at all, then I want to." He closed his eyes and balled his paws into fists. "Please… let me help."

"I'm afraid it's not up to me."

Mischief looked up and his face fell.

Cleo gave him a small smile. "But I can talk to Tinker."

Mischief returned her smile. A somewhat more solemn one than the cheery one he'd worn just earlier that day.

"Great," he said. Then his smile melted away to be replaced by confusion. "So… I guess he's in charge, then?"

"By default," Cleo explained. "The Guild's leader went missing years ago, before we joined. No one has seen him since. Tinker never speaks about him either, so everyone else keeps it hush-hush."

"Yup!" Spark leant her head on one paw. "One of the Guild's many mysteries."

They strolled back up the river with haste, desperate to get back before the sun finished setting. The sky had been dyed an angry red, turning the mountain peak into a black silhouette against it. To keep their spirits up, the trio chatted. Mostly about the Guild, since Mischief seemed to have thought up a million and one questions. But they kept their voices low to avoid attracting attention to themselves. The mountain might be silent and seemingly devoid of life, but the forest was a different matter entirely. They didn't feel dangerous, but when night fell, dangers followed.

They'd made good progress when a soft rustle reached their ears, freezing each one of them in their tracks.

"Did you hear that?" Spark whispered.

"You heard it, too?" Mischief responded.

Cleo swallowed dryly and crept towards the source of the sound. The fall breeze stirred through a thick fern on the edge of the tree line, but it created a different sound to the one that she'd heard. The rustle had sounded more like someone moving over the dry leaves. Or had it been her imagination?

She squinted through the shadows, urging her night vision to kick in and bracing herself for an attack.

None came.

Maybe it had just been the wind after all?

"C-Cleo…?"

Mischief was stood a little away from her, staring at the ground by his feet. She hadn't even noticed Spark leave her shoulder, but the dedenne stood beside him, her long tail swishing through the air with agitation.

"It's gone," said Mischief.

Leaves lay scattered around the trees, recently disturbed as if the wind had whipped through them, revealing a spray of tiny, dainty little flowers. But there'd been no strong winds, not enough to cause that. Amid the leaves, the grass was flattened as if something heavy had been lying on it.

Her eyes widened. Something had.

"The pachirisu," she said. "Someone took the body?"

"Well he clearly didn't get up and walk," Spark quipped.

"Why would…" Cleo swallowed around a lump in her throat. Her fur was standing on end down her spine, and her twin tails began to look like a pair of brushes. "Come on. We need to head back. I'm starting to feel very uneasy right now…"

"Seconded." Spark bounded back onto her shoulder.

Mischief glanced back at the trees before falling into pace behind Cleo. The sun was nothing more than a red sliver tracing the mountain peak, plunging the valley swiftly into darkness. Time was definitely against them. Cleo feared they wouldn't make it back before dark.

And whatever was in those trees, whatever had taken the pachirisu, could very likely be watching them. Stalking them. She could almost feel their eyes burning into her back. Was it all in her head? A trick of the dark? A psychological response to the noise and the missing body?

No… someone was there. Someone had moved the pachirisu.

Was it really worth rushing back, potentially endangering all of New City?

They needed to make a swift and drastic decision. Endangering three lives was certainly better than endangering the largest population of the remaining Outcasts.

"I think," she said quiet enough for only Spark and Mischief to hear her, "that it might be safer if we don't head back at all."

Spark wound her claws into Cleo's ruff. "I'm with you, but I dunno how I feel about this…"

Exposed.

They'd be incredibly exposed. There was no sense in setting up a tent. Sure, it was blue. A colour that would allow them to blend into the shadows. But if someone was following them, then it would be a beacon. Not to mention a burden if they had to suddenly flee, finding themselves tangled in its folds.

No. They'd have to find somewhere to hide and hope they weren't spotted.

Cleo led them towards the tree line, searching for anything they could hide under or inside. A hollow in a tree, a shrubbery, a little igloo formed of leaves. They could cover themselves over like the pachirisu.

None of those options stuck around in Cleo's head for long.

Mischief tugged at her paw and she looked up as he dragged her away from the fern she'd been investigating. He'd found a large pomeg bush a good few feet away from the river bank. Its leaves were yellow and sickly, but it hadn't shed them. A sign it was probably recovering. He parted the leaves to reveal the bare branches within, enough space for two pokemon of their size to comfortably settle down inside.

Well, it was the best option they had so far.

He held the branches aside for her to climb into the bush, then followed her in, keeping his paws on the leaves to cushion them so they didn't snap or rustle.

Cleo's heart was pounding against her ribs with such ferocity she could hear the blood whooshing in her ears. This was probably the single most foolish thing she'd done in a long while. If they survived, she would undoubtedly be on the receiving end of a scathing rant from Tinker.

The three of them sat silently, trying to keep their breathing as quiet as possible as they watched through the gaps in the leaves. Nothing moved. Not so much as a rustle. Yet that feeling of being watched didn't leave. If anything, it grew worse.

Something shimmered to Cleo's right, and she jerked her head around to spot it. Nothing. She was certain she'd seen something. The light reflecting in a pair of crimson eyes, or the fading light bouncing off a pokemon's shiny hide.

Scales?

A dragon… no, not another one.

She turned her head left and right slowly, searching the shadows for any other hint that something might be there. Anything to confirm that it was just her imagination. But that feeling of being watched was becoming too much to bare. Instinct was kicking in, and it was starting to win. A primal urge screaming at her to flee. To get away from whatever danger was encroaching upon her. Any urge to fight back had been sucked right out of her. If it were a dark pokemon then she had no attacks to take them out. Fighting back would be pointless. She should just run.

But that was where her friends came in.

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself and tuned in to Spark shifting around on her shoulder. Trusty Spark and her discharge. A small rodent who packed enough power to take down three weavile at once. Who can stun a flock of murkrow with one attack.

And then there was Mischief.

She had to remind herself that the whimsicott beside her had taken out a noivern, whether or not he remembered it.

She let out a long breath, feeling her heart calm down a few paces. Whatever was out there, waiting to attack them, Cleo and her friends would give them the run for their money.

The sun had well and truly set. Soft moonlight lit up the bare canopy, yet barely penetrated the thick shadows. Cleo couldn't see much past the small patch of ground just outside the pomeg bush. The shadows were beginning to play tricks on her, causing her to think up various scenarios. But that wasn't going to get them anywhere. She needed her wits about her if they were going to come out of any battle in one piece.

Snap!

All three of them tensed, and Spark leapt from Cleo's shoulder to land between her and Mischief. Her whiskers fizzed with electricity as the dedenne tried to repress it. A sudden shock would be like a beacon, drawing in any lurking Darkness.

The dead, dry grass rustled behind them, and Cleo twitched her ears towards it. Behind the bush? Her skin crawled and she turned her head slowly towards it.

Crack!

They jerked back towards the front, eyes wide, claws spread. Cleo's ears unfurled slightly, and the energy hummed away as she braced herself to blast whoever it was with a powerful psychic surge.

Then something rushed towards them, their feet shattering twigs and dried leaves. Cleo leapt sideways, narrowly missing a pair of cleaving claws. They reflected the moonlight briefly, slicing through the bush's slender branches and snicking off a few hairs from Cleo's tail. Spark discharged electricity, lighting up the pomeg bush and shimmering off the red and silver hide of their shadowy assailant. But they were gone before Cleo could get a good look at them.

She blinked dazzle spots from her eyes, trying to spot their fleeing assailant. But they leapt out of nowhere, slicing through the bush once more. Mischief dived to the side as they zipped past, sending up a flurry of white downy cotton. It clung to their attacker's gleaming body, the moon reflecting off jagged metal. But as quick as they had appeared, they were gone.

The trio stood taut as coiled springs, bracing themselves for another attack. They desperately tried to calm their frantic breathing, straining their ears to listen for any movement. But it was deathly quiet.

Whatever that pokemon was, it was gone.

None of them dared move, but they were all likely wondering the same thing. Stay or go? It might be too dangerous to remain there. There was no saying their assailant had really left. Were they simply trying to lure Cleo and her friends out of hiding? If the latter was the case, then they were better of staying where they were.

All of them were shaking. They huddled together, keeping a watchful eye open. None of them dared sleep, not that Cleo had planned to.

It was much too dark to check for any injuries. She didn't hurt anywhere, but whatever had attacked them had sharp claws. Too small for a weavile, however. A sneasel? She wasn't ruling it out. Whatever it was, they were clearly adapted to hunting at night. Blending into the shadows, with incredibly quick, agile movements. It was a flawless strategy. One suited for any assassin.

You can't hit what you can't see.

...

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