Sedimentation
Chapter 6

They hadn't been fortunate enough to come across another dying source of meat on their way, and by the time the chill became a permanent thing, they were running low on supplies.

The larvitar was more in pain now as well, since there was only air now between stone. But the poison was doing its work well. He could still love, and the days of constant motion were making it easier. The cracks were barely lengthening – but that came with a price the zubat was in a better position to see. The stone was slowly dying away. They would not repair themselves when the cold left.

Nor would her wings. They'd tired of the cold, and the warmth under the larvitar's stone hide wasn't enough to fully revive them now. She could feel them beat a little more frailly – but she'd known that would happen. Age was speedily catching up to her after all.

The larvitar had slept two more times. The first she'd suggested again and received less of a protest in return. By the second it seemed the larvitar had learnt how much his body could take before the amount of rest required afterwards would be more. It was a system he had to quickly learn and adapt to: the maximal distance with minimal rest so they could get as far as they could before exhaustion or the cold stole their hope away.

And then they entered into the moister, colder parts. The chill in the air became constant and the zubat stopped flying ahead. She would have to depend entirely on the larvitar here, she knew. She could fly for a little through the moist air before her wingtips froze, but if she allowed them that she wouldn't be able to fly in the places that followed. And those places she would need to fly even more, when the walls were coated with gleaming ice and a straight fall and the only way up was to fly. And she planned to fly towards the sun when she caught sight of it. For those things, she could not sacrifice her wings quite yet. She still had need of them.

And the poison that had spread through the stone of larvitar's hide served as a sort of defence for him. Because stone wasn't flesh, it could take more poison and more death, and more death meant less pain. It didn't hinder the movement of flesh underneath. It didn't hinder the heart. Not until the poison passed through the thickness of stone without dying itself from the inner heat and into that flesh and heart. Then it would be a hindrance. Then it would be a killer. Because their stomachs might have adapted to the poison in the meat, but raw poison and blood were a different matter entirely. There was no adapting to that unless they made poison of their own. And the larvitar were pokemon of rock. Their hides had evolved to keep such poison out of them – and the winter had evolved, perhaps, to give it a gateway in.

But for now the larvitar could still move, could still feel the dullness of pain that poison gave to him. And she could tuck her wings into the gap beneath the hide and hang on to his shoulder blades with her small claws and travel with. Her ears were strained. His eyes were strained. They watched and listened carefully for any predator that might happen upon them.

A few delibird had attacked them almost as soon as the fog settled in, but the larvitar had fired a few rocks to knock them down. They'd fallen heavily, heavier than the stones shot at them, their bones breaking on the ice-covered rocks below. But the delibird did not have much meat on them, so they were poor prey. It was only because their beaks were strong and a nuisance when close did they need to be shot down from the air.

They tried to salvage the meat anyway. Enough for the zubat perhaps, but not for the larvitar. Not for long in any case, but for now it was holding them both. But the delibird were many in number. It only wasn't worth their time to strip each and every one of them.

'Can we learn any fire type attacks?' the larvitar wondered aloud. 'They would be far more useful than throwing rocks.'

'I don't know,' the zubat replied. 'Perhaps. I do not know how.'

'Can I learn any other attacks?' He looked at his claws. They could scratch the walls but do no more. And his rocks were good against the birds, but useless should any aquatic beasts blast a torrent of water at them.

The zubat had no defence against that either. Confuse ray was the best, but also the least damaging. It was more a support attack than a striking one, but rock based attacks weren't the best against water opponents. This larvitar knew scratch, bite and rock slide, the last of which was still developing and could only control a few rocks at a time. Another distance attack, one that wasn't of the rock variety, would be good for both of them. But learning attacks wasn't fast or easy, and distance attacks were even harder to learn.

Truthfully, the older larvitar would have been in a better position to teach attacks. Some simply came with time, and this larvitar was young. But the zubat had watched them learn many attacks. Maybe she could teach this one.

'You're not old enough for hyper beam,' she sighed. 'But maybe we can try hidden power.'

'Really?' his face lit up, and suddenly he didn't look hungry and weary anymore. They'd been rationing now that there were only delibird to fill their tummies with. It was harder for the larvitar who'd always eaten more than the far smaller zubat. And the zubat didn't have much of an appetite anymore. No-one did when they were old and frail and approaching death.

'You'll tire more quickly though,' the zubat said. 'You might not make it to the top.'

The larvitar contemplated that. 'Did the other larvitar know more attacks than me?'

The other larvitar had known hidden power, the zubat remembered. And stone edge as well: an attack far less energy consuming and more accurate than rock slide – but this larvitar wasn't old enough for that yet either. Another year, maybe two – but the cold had gotten far more merciless since then. This larvitar should have had a good few years before thinking about his death. All the larvitar should have had a few weeks yet before rendered immobile for the winter. And they, the zubat, shouldn't have lost some of their own to the snow already. But that was how it was this year, and previous years. That was how the changing times had led them. To shorter, less meaningful lives.

And when all the young were gone and the old had withered away, who would create the future?

'He did,' was all the zubat said aloud on the matter. 'Alright. I'll try and explain hidden power. But what it does will depend entirely on you.'

Fire would save them against the ice, but not against the terrain of water they were slowly crawling deeper within. They had only come across the delibird now, but that would soon change. They would soon meet more dangerous enemies. But there was no one attack that would take care of everything.

The other larvitar had taken a fire type hidden power. It had been a symbol of the fire of adventure in his heart. And he had died with that same fire: he'd been able to melt away the cold around him, but not the hunger that had eventually claimed him.

But this larvitar was of a different breed, a different time. 'Hidden power can do anything when it's unformed,' she explained. 'But once you make it your attack, it will be frozen in that type for eternity.'

'So I can only have one type.' The larvitar frowned thoughtfully. 'We will come across water soon. Will it be frozen over or do you think it might still flow?' He shuddered at the thought of flowing water, but if it was there, they would have to cross it.

'Flow, probably.' The zubat strained her ears. She thought she could hear the water moving in the depths of the mountain now, or maybe it was her own imagination. It had flowed the last time she was there…but the winter had had a smaller reach back then.

'And food..?'

That she knew. It had been bad years ago, when the winter hadn't spread its waste. It would be worse now.

The larvitar thought a moment longer, slowing and then halting completely. 'Grass, I think,' he said, sounding a little tired. 'But I think I need to rest now.'

It would have to be a short, unfulfilling rest, otherwise the moisture would collect in the cracks in his hide and freeze, leaving him an ice sculpture like the rocks that marked their chosen path.