"Okay," Trace said. "I don't think anyone will have a problem with you, as long as you talk and do other people things like that."
"You mean like carrying wood?" Lysander asked. His arms ached.
"Yeah, like that," Trace told him. "See, you're already fitting in here. Up ahead is the town. I know it looks like... less than a village, but it's just new."
Asunder consisted of a town center, with a flagpole and a few shops; a handful of houses, thinly spread out from the center; and a much larger, fortified-looking building some distance away, up on a hill. The "houses," small and squat, actually looked a lot like closed lean-tos, but bigger. No two were identical, but they were all unpainted and half of them were unfinished.
Nobody was around, except for a Quilava. He came over as soon as he saw Trace and Lysander.
"Hi, Trace," the Quilava said, peering at Lysander. He got up on two legs. "Who's that behind ya?"
Lysander introduced himself, and the Quilava visibly relaxed, going back on all fours. "Tom. Nice to meetcha, I guess. Anyway, Trace, you're missing a town meeting. I have to go find Leslie, so I'll see ya round."
Trace and Lysander left Tom behind and made their way up the hill.
"So he doesn't have to be there?" Lysander asked. "At the meeting thing?"
"Oh, his dad's there, probably," Trace said. "The meetings are usually just to tell something to the whole town at once. They're over at HHQ, the Horizon headquarters."
Trace led him not to the center of town, but up the hill. People were dispersing from the area up there, so the meeting was probably over. Some people gave Lysander odd stares, and others gave him welcoming looks. Either way, he tried to hide as much as he could behind Trace.
Up at the top of the hill, the HHQ building was like a big wooden fort, with large doorways and windows. Standing in front of it was a Nidoking, surly and intimidating.
"Hey, waterbug!" he called. "Is that all the wood you got?"
"Yes, Hal," Trace sighed. He dumped the wood at the Nidoking's feet.
Hal laughed, saying, "Don't sweat your pretty little carapace, waterbug. We have all the wood we need for a while, now." He turned to Lysander, who also put down his load. "And who is this helping you?" he grunted.
"Lysander," Trace said. "I found him in the forest."
"Hi," greeted Lysander.
"Well, if you can't be useful, at least you can find someone who will," Hal sneered. "Go get your food. I don't even care how much. And nice to meetcha, Lysander. A Gabite 'round these parts, who would've guessed?" He hefted all of the wood with ease and disappeared down the hill.
"Is that guy like your boss?" Lysander said, following Trace inside the HQ. The doorway was almost twice Lysander's height.
Trace was silent. After a moment, he said, "Here, we'll get some food." They went though a big, empty foyer of sorts, then turned left into a room with fruits and vegetables piled up from floor to ceiling. The stuff didn't look particularly appetizing. A Typhlosion was in the room, carrying out some food that had spoiled.
"Hey, Trace," he said. "Have you seen Tom?"
"Yeah. He's by your house," Trace said, getting a wooden tray—the bottom end of a box, really—and pushing some fruits into it. It was the only way Trace or Lysander could carry small things, besides with the mouth. Lysander filled a tray of his own, but tried to be modest by stopping at one layer of food. Trace didn't stack food either, probably because it made the tray harder to balance.
"Thanks," the Typhlosion said, leaving for a few moments. "Who's the new guy?" he murmured as he returned to get more rotten food to throw out.
"Lysander. I found him in the forest."
"Well, Lysander, welcome to Asunder. I'm Flayer, Tom's dad. You might have seen him scurrying around somewhere. Be sure to get to know everyone else in town, too."
"Nice to meet you," Lysander said, turning back to the mountain of food. He wished Flayer would leave. He knew the Typhlosion was gazing at him.
And he did leave. "I'll see you around," Flayer said, carrying off what was apparently his last handful of gross food.
"Okay, let's go, too," Trace said. They picked up their trays of food and made their way out. "Flayer's one of the guys in leadership of Horizon," he said once they left HHQ. "At the top, you know?" As they carefully went down the slope to town, he said, "You know... I think you should introduce yourself next town meeting. Show them that you're not mean."
"Why would they think that?" Lysander asked.
"You're a Gabite. That's just how people think of them. It reminds me of my old friend—he was a Houndoom. Everyone thought he was mean, but he was really nice."
A Houndoom? That sounded familiar. Lysander knew what they looked like, but... where had he seen one? He let the thought go, and focused on balancing his tray of food.
They made it to Trace's house without meeting anyone else. Against one wall of the rectangular room was a small pile of food, mostly covered up. An empty bucket rested next to it. Sunlight came through two windows on the walls and one up on the roof. There was a raised ledge—made of wood, of course—that looked like something to sit on. That was all the furniture there was. Lysander also noted that the place smelled like Trace—not that it was a bad smell, of course. He just found it odd that he could make that association so easily.
"I don't really need a bed," Trace explained shyly. He probably slept on the wooden floor. Thinking about sleeping made Lysander realize that he hadn't slept yet at all, since waking up in the woods. He put his food in Trace's little pile, leaving the tray with it.
"I'm not that hungry," Trace said. "Are you?"
The question seemed to reawaken Lysander's hunger, which hadn't been bothering him for a while. He wanted to lie so that he wouldn't have to eat Trace's food by himself—that struck Lysander as really awkward. But now lying was impossible, because his stomach was rallying against him. He was starving.
"Yeah, sorta," Lysander said.
"You eat, then. I'll get some water," Trace said, hooking the bucket's handle behind one claw and leaving the house.
As Lysander began picking through the food pile and eating fruits he thought looked familiar, people barged through the swinging door and tackled him. A Floatzel and a Donphan wrestled him to the floor, even with a mouthful of food. A Scyther stood over him, while the other two kept him pinned to the floor.
"So. You've come to steal food," the Scyther said, kicking Lysander in the head. He had just swallowed, so no food sprayed out. But he let out a pained whine. He had to blink a few times to clear his head.
"At least it went and stole from Trace," the Donphan said. "Clueless waterbug."
"I'm not stealing his food!" Lysander yelled. "I helped him get it!"
A brief pause.
"I don't know who taught you to talk," the Scyther shouted, "but it's not fooling me!" He delivered another blow to Lysander's head.
"Wait, Raze," the Floatzel interrupted, still on top of Lysander. "You sure it's the same one? He's talking and everything."
"I'll never forget this bastard's face," the Scyther murmured. "He's definitely the one. Go get something to tie him up."
After a tense moment, Lysander felt one of them get off his back. The Floatzel glanced back at Lysander before leaving the house.
"You can talk? Then let's talk," the Scyther said, pacing around. "Why'd you follow us back here?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Lysander cried. "Help!"
"What's going on?" came Trace's voice from outside. He came in carrying the filled bucket of water, with the Floatzel behind him—holding a length of rope.
"This wildie's been eating through your food!" accused the Scyther.
"Razor, this isn't a wildie," Trace murmured, putting the bucket of water down. "Didn't you hear him say words just now? He said help—"
"I don't think you get it!" snapped Razor. "Don't you remember our treasure heist from last week? Oh, that's right. You're not on H! Well, it was from this bastard. He chased us! I know it's him!"
"It wasn't me!" Lysander yelled.
"We'll see," Razor said, quieting down. His eyes flicked from Lysander to the bucket of water. "Can Gabites breathe underwater?"
"No, pretty sure they don't," the Donphan said from atop Lysander.
"Good," Razor uttered, sliding the big bucket along the floor. "Good. Ryan, get him tied up. How long can you hold your breath, Gabite? We'll find out real soon just how you—"
"What the hell are you doing to him?" interrupted a familiar voice. Flayer barged into the house, which was getting rather crowded. "Get off him. Now."
"But—"
"You heard me."
Lysander was finally free to stand up. Razor gave him a dirty look, before storming out. The Donphan followed without a word.
"I wasn't going to tie you up, I swear," whispered the Floatzel before leaving, taking the rope with him.
"What was that crap about, Trace?" Flayer said, looking around. The incident had somehow managed to make a mess of Trace's austere living space.
"They thought Lysander was the same Gabite they stole some treasure from," Trace explained, sighing. "But Lysander isn't a wildie."
"Yeah, I thought the difference was obvious," agreed Flayer, who sat down on the wooden sitting ledge. "Look, I'll talk to them. Set them straight, you know? I heard Tom's friend, Leslie, lost her bell thing over by the beach. You should go help her find it. You know—make a name for yourself, Lysander. Help the community, all that."
"Thanks for the help," Lysander said, rubbing his head with one arm. He was still a bit dizzy.
"Razor's a hothead. The other two just don't want to cross him. I'm sure he'll talk with you eventually—civilly, of course. You don't look too beat up, but you can always stop by the infirmary. Trace knows where it is." Flayer turned and left.
"You know, Lysander," Trace said, "I'm hungry now."
"Am I gonna live here with you?" Lysander said between mouthfuls of food.
"Yeah. If you want," Trace said. "Like I said, I don't have a bed."
"Thanks so much," Lysander said. "If it weren't for you, I'd be lost in the woods somewhere."
"Don't worry about it," Trace mumbled. "You know, when I was out getting water, I found out what the town meeting was about. It was about the treasure Razor thinks he stole from you. So you probably lucked out of a fight in front of everybody, maybe."
"Oh, well," Lysander said. "Like Flayer said: we'll figure it out eventually, right?"
"Yeah," Trace said, gulping down water.
Lysander helped himself to some water, too. "At least my throat isn't hurting anymore."
"Yeah, but you're sure your head isn't messed up?"
"No," Lysander said, even as he was rubbing his head. "I mean, I'll be fine."
"You done eating, then? Let's look for Leslie."
They left the house, and Trace led the way. As they walked around looking for Leslie, Lysander wondered if he missed his old life. He couldn't really tell, because he couldn't remember what it was like. All he knew was that he was a Gabite, and that this was the real world.