Sedimentation
Chapter 5

Larvitar did get faster. Too slow for the zubat, but her long life had taught her patience and restraint. It was perhaps a good thing as well: their slow progress. Zubat were on the move constantly, except while they slept. And they slept several times in the cycle of a day. The larvitar might be slower as a species, but they could stay awake for several cycles. So the zubat could find a perch on her companion's shoulder or, when the first strips of meat had been devoured between the two of them and the space at the base of the neck opened up, slip her wings into the gap and sleep.

When she woke, the larvitar was still lumbering slowly forward.

And the first few days passed like that – or what they assumed were days. The source of light within the mountain was unknown to even her. It was a dull orange light, unlike the bright yellow sun she longed to see one more time. She dripped the poison from her fangs into the deepest of the cracks left by the cold and they did not grow. Instead, they blackened and the stone that surrounded them decayed. They would continue to crumble regardless of whether she added more poison or not, and when it reached the heart which supported his life, he would grow old and weak.

But for the two of them, journeying to the peak of the mountain where the sun still shone even in the bitter winter times, that didn't matter. It didn't matter that, with every step or beat of wings, they were moving further and further away from others of their kind, from the safety that had so dearly hoped to see them through that winter time. But if they did survive this winter, there would be another, then another… The winters would not end, and if they weren't killed by something else, the cold would eventually kill them.

Stopping for too long would kill them now. She stopped the larvitar when he began to slow, bid him to rest. 'I can still walk,' the young one protested.

'You don't want to collapse afterwards,' the zubat explained. 'The less you need to rest in between, the easier it will be to keep moving.'

Larvitar looked at her; she was acting like his mother now – but she was also the one with more experience. He obeyed, curling into the gap between two stone slabs and closing his eyes. The zubat waited until she heard his breathing even out, then flew back.

She'd felt a change in the humidity of the air for a moment, a little while back. She retraced her steps until she felt the damp chill again, then followed it. There was no water here; she was sure of it. So the chill could only be coming from an aquatic or ice type pokemon: one who had lost their way. As close as they were to the entrance – when compared to the inner realms in any case – she guessed it was the latter. If they were lucky, it would be one with a flesh body, that her gust and poison could break through and the warmth within the larvitar's hide, under those poor cracking rocks, could make palpable.

In the winter times and without a fire attack at their disposal, it was the only way they could eat something not coated in ice. It was another benefit the larvitar had: as a storage place far better than the unloving rocks of their humble abode. Otherwise the zubat would be eating bits of ice along with the meat, and as small as they were, those bits of ice getting to their hearts would kill them quick.

It was a shame the space between hide and skin was so narrow that only the baby zubat could fit into the largest of the larvitar. A few of them sometimes had pouches, but only the mothers who had recently given birth. With births so rare, there had only been this larvitar's mother the last winter, and none for this one. But now none of that mattered. It was only one larvitar and one zubat and the sloping cave walls around them.

The zubat hoped the larvitar wouldn't awaken before she returned – though, if he did, she would be able to hear his lumbering steps in the silent echoes. She hoped that meant she would also be able to hear the sound of anything approaching them. She didn't expect anyone now; the tunnels they were currently in were meant for travelling and nothing else. They were still in larvitar territory, even if in the winter those caves were empty. In the spring, they became the breeding caves: the caves closer to water and further from the predators that lurked outside.

Some of the tunnels led to water holes. Not those of the golduck or poliwhirls – not those violent beasts. There were magikarp everywhere, like an infestation but the zubat didn't have fangs strong enough to tear through those hides. The larvitar could, and in the more active seasons they would take out the softest, innermost part for their zubat friends. But in the winter they could do nothing save wait to be fed. It was not a sustainable system, the one she and her larvitar companion had set up. They would last a week, maybe two, but no more.

And it wasn't as though the magikarp were unprotected. There were a few gyarados there; in fact, they were the ones who were furthest along the evolutionary path because they went the winter undisturbed. And the gyarados were powerful, vicious beasts. This early in the winter, there mightn't be any at all. But they would grow. And a gyarados' strong jaws would crush her in a breath, whether she heard its approach or not.

Thankfully, they seemed to die out by the time summer came: breeding hundreds of baby magikarp and then collapsing in on its long thin scales. She'd heard of some pokemon that collected those scales, but she'd never seen them with her own eyes. And it seemed like a silly, inconsequential thing. The scales weren't edible, and a weapon was a liability when they had their attacks on hand. In this world of survival, they were only useless things.

She followed the cold onwards until it bit at her wings and her wing beats faltered. But she pressed on, because she could hear the sound of dying breaths ahead: food she could take back with her. And she found it finally: a sneasel who'd come too far out of the more humid areas of the maze and fallen and dried out. Even if they weren't aquatic by nature, cold alone wasn't enough to sustain their ice bodies when there was no moisture to support it.

The sneasel raised its head a little when the zubat got too near, and raised a claw. The zubat immediately spun in the air, avoiding the aim. Though the sneasel didn't look like it could pick itself of the ground to attack physically, the zubat wasn't fool enough to risk being hit by a distance attack. Instead, it circled when the claw clumsily followed her flight patter, and beat her wings faster. When the time looked right, she let loose a powerful but controlled air cutter, letting it slam into the lithe body with shearing force.

The raised claw came off, and that was fine. It wasn't edible anyway. Some of the icy exterior that would do them no good came off as well, giving way to the meatier black belly underneath. She relaxed her wings, paining now because of the force she'd demanded from them – but she still needed their help. Once she was back with her companion she could rest.

Next time, she decided, she'd be sure to have him wait closer – but it didn't matter if she slowed down, so long as he didn't and could carry her.

She took a deep breath, and pumped her wings again for a carrying gust to take her prey back. Silence followed her save the wind, and she wondered if anyone would be coming for them afterwards. They were still in dry parts though. The sneasel wouldn't get too far. For this leg of their journey, they were perfectly safe. There was little life except for them, and the food they'd brought with them would last. What they could gain from lost wanderers would boost those supplies for the next leg.

And that leg would be the more dangerous one, when they walked into the moister, more heavily inhabited regions of the mountain.