Guardian of The Forest

by Relic8

Set in the land of the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon 'Explorers' games, Guardian of The Forest tells the story of a driven Lucario whose childhood was spent in service to the famous Wigglytuff's Guild, and his seemingly endless struggle to protect innocent Pokémon from the once-fabled beings known as Humans, intent on capturing them and forcing them into slave labour in the villages.

10. Chapter 9

*Quick Note*

This chapter was a rare exception for me: once I got over the writers block and got the ball rolling, I could barely get myself to stop. Future chapters won't be this long, but while writing this one, I honestly couldn't think of a point to end it at which wouldn't either A: keep people waiting for the action-y stuff even longer. Or B: Leave it on the kind of cliffhanger ending which I don't think I've earned.

If you have time, please let me know your thoughts, good and bad, so I can improve.

Enjoy!

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Chapter Nine:

Golden Aura

He scrambled up the stairs as fast as he could, leaping two at a time, his whole being crying out in torment. His sides were throbbing with vicious stitches, his body felt as though it weighed as much as lead, and his legs burned as powerfully as the fire that still raged far behind him.

But he did not care.

Nothing mattered to him more than what awaited him at the very top.

He looked up and let out a strangled sigh of relief. The topmost stairs were coming slowly into view, though even now he had barely crossed the half-way steps, and more - even more destruction was hindering his way. There was a large gap in the stairs directly ahead which looked as though it had either been blasted or gouged out completely, which made him wonder - even in the midst of his horror - just what could have happened? But most of all, about the fate of his friends. Were they all alright? They must be, surely! They were no ordinary Pokémon! They were all more than capable of protecting themselves! But then, he thought, what could he expect from them if he did find them alive?

Would they recognise him?

If not, would they try to attack him?

Was he going to be forced to do battle against the very Pokémon who had raised him like family?

Would he be able to fight back...?

As he leapt across the gap and continued to hasten forwards, he knew, deep within, the answer to that question.

There was a crumbling sound below, and he felt himself plummet face-forward into the stone steps, but there was hardly time to even register the dull, nauseating pain when he felt himself begin to slide slowly back down their smooth stone. He struggled to stop himself. He tried to cling onto something, but still he slid further and further down, drawing ever closer to that deep, dark gap once again. He groaned and tried to push himself upright, but he didn't have enough strength left within him to even slow his own gathering momentum. Finally, in a last-ditch attempt to save himself, he breathed in as much air as he could, gathered all the strength he had, unsheathed a set of silver claws from his stronger right paw and drove them down into the ground before him, hoping to lodge them into something; anything! He could no longer feel ground beneath his feet. The rest of his body was reaching that pit, and there was nothing he could do.

His descent stopped abruptly.

He looked up.

His claws had managed to stick into a small space of earth between one step and another, and there they remained, unyielding. His lower body had been dropped into the empty air, and the rest of him was safe.

Shaken, he pulled himself up and continued his ascent, though at a considerably slower pace than before.

"Please…" he panted, "Everyone… please just be alive."

He was at the end of his limit when he finally reached the topmost stairs, and as he pushed himself upward one last time, his legs finally gave way and he fell down on all fours, breathing as though he had just had to battle a Pokémon the size of the cliff itself.

Trembling all over with exhaustion, rage, fear and grief, he clenched his paws into fists and pushed himself up, stood still, breathed slowly…

and opened his eyes.

"No…!"

He staggered forwards, shaking his head, refusing to believe what he was seeing.

"NO…!"

How could this be? How could there be nothing? He had expected battle-signs, for sure, but he had been sure that the tent, at least, would still be there. Perhaps reinforced, locked up, chained, even guarded!

…But there was no tent. Nothing ahead except a wide patch of rubble, splinters of wood and dirt at the place where it had once been.

Without conscious thought, he approached. He simply stared at the first place he had ever called home. It was gone. It was-

But he never finished that thought, because at that exact moment something snagged on his left foot and he fell to one knee. A wave of cold shock sped through him so sharply he almost lost his last shreds of consciousness there and then. But he couldn't. He wouldn't let himself fall yet. He had to know! He had to find them! Surely they were not all…

…But wait! He looked more closely at the ground by his feet. Something was wrong. Or rather, something was missing. There should have been a small, wooden grate directly where he stood. He felt the ground. It felt weak. Thin, even! He brushed at it, and saw something that made his heart beat fiercely once again.

They could not all be gone! Because someone had placed a wide strip of the tent on the ground to conceal the wooden grate! And he knew it could not have been an accident or coincidence, because it had been covered so carefully that there hadn't been a single trace of the tent's bright colours visible before!

He searched for an edge and tugged the concealment away. There it was, the wooden grate built atop the hole that descended deep into the cliff's body. Had he evolved and returned here before this disaster had taken place, and he would have heard the familiar voice of the sentry Pokémon calling out from deep below, asking for identification, business, and finally checking his footprint to confirm if he was who he claimed to be.

"Hello?" he called, and at once his voice was echoed within the darkened pit and out across the sky, so that it sounded as though there were dozens of him scattered all around, shouting for his friends. He called again, louder this time, and again there was no responding voice but his own, ringing in his own ears again and again.

Howl could not continue. He began to pound his fist against the ground, his mind a whirlwind of pain and sheer, insurmountable remorse. His senses were beginning to sway, and his eyelids were beginning to fall against his command, but still, despite it all, he was just conscious long enough to hear a cracking, snapping sound beneath him as the old, wooden grate broke apart, and he was plunged into the depths of the pit below.

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright.

It was dark all around him, and there was nothing but silence from within his surroundings. He breathed heavily and squinted around, wondering if he was still dreaming, but as his senses gradually caught up with him, he realised - or rather, remembered - that he was in his cave. He rubbed his eyes, got unsteadily to his feet, and moved dazedly towards where he knew the entrance to be. He felt for the entrance, found the curtain of sewn-together leaves, and pushed it aside. It was still night-time. He could only have slept a few hours at most. He stepped out, grateful for the cool, fresh air and the gentle breeze that swept through the trees.

He ought to appreciate this. The fact that he was still alive after so much, the fact that he was still able to feel cold and warmth ought to have made him feel blessed. But he could not remember the last time he had slept in peace. It must have weeks, maybe even a full month since these dreams had begun to resurface again.

He clenched his paws. Why would it not stop haunting him? He had chosen to live, and to live meant for him to move on.

He had chosen to spend his days alone trying to prevent this kind of suffering from wounding another soul, but why was a small part of him so determined to drag him back?

He shook his head, trying to rid it of these thoughts.

He couldn't sleep, he couldn't be still, he needed a distraction, and if he was going to stay awake, he might as well do something useful. And almost immediately, the solution came to him.

At last, he had finished tying his target - an old, dead log with a sharp, pointed end - to the branch of a tree near one end of his solitary training ground, and proceeded to test all of his Moves before he used them for real practise.

Howl's Moves were:

-Force Palm-

The Guardian beat, whacked and struck at his target, dodging out of the way as it swung back towards him, sharp-point first, and in the instant that its flat, bare side was exposed to him, he finally thrust his arm forwards and let out a burst of energy from within his open palm. A blaze of light emitted from the point where his Move connected to his target, and the branch was broken away from the tree completely by the pure strength of it, and both the branch and target went flying across his training ground 'til they crashed against the wall of his cave.

He smiled. Force palm, for sure, was still just as good a Move to him as it had always been.

-Aura Sphere-

Howl charged a concentrated ball of his own midnight-blue Aura in the palm of his paw and focused his mind on his target. With a little time and patience he had managed to craft several dozens of training dummies by salvaging tree branches, abandoned human armour and weapons and turning them into something which could be used not only to hold up smaller targets, but by themselves for sparring. He allowed a little more of his Aura to flow into the sphere until it was almost as large as his paw, then he finally thrust it forward and fired it across the range until it knocked the wooden helmet off the dummy and burst at the exact same moment as it had begun to fall back to the ground, the force sending it flying away.

He was not quite as pleased with this result. He knew that he had to improve on how long it took for him to charge a one-handed Aura Sphere, but was not sure how to do so. When he had first learned the Move, he had always charged it between both of his paws; as it was significantly quicker, easier, and able to grow to a much larger size. A fully-charged sphere would cause not a strong burst, but an explosion powerful enough to send an entire circle of opponents soaring through the air. He had decided to practice charging spheres with one paw because he'd often thought of how useful it might be to have one ready in real battle, but trying to rush the passing of one's own Aura into a sphere was extremely dangerous. Not only would be like him greatly exerting himself whilst bearing a number of deeply-bleeding wounds, but because if he charged the sphere beyond the amount it was able to contain, it would explode immediately, before he had even thrown it.

He would have to be patient and learn what he could step by step.

"True power comes from diligence, Howl!" said a sharp voice in his memory. He nodded grudgingly and went on to practising the next of his Moves.

-Extreme Speed-

Howl focused his energy into his paws and stared directly at a branch high above him. Then he took a few steps back and ran at the tree's trunk. He leapt forwards, propelled himself higher by dragging his feet down across it, and then, just before he began to fall, he let the energy out towards the ground and the force of the downward burst sent him hurtling upward through the air. He reached up and seized hold of the high branch and dangled from it for a spell, regaining his strength. And when he was ready, he focused his energy into his free paw again, kicked his feet up to the tree's trunk, used Extreme Speed to launch himself away and arrived with a roll to the earth.

Extreme Speed still felt proficient, for which he was glad, as it was a useful Move both inside and out of battle.

Which left the last of his Moves:

-Heal Pulse-

The very Move he had used to treat Rustle's injuries. He had learned this Move from Mist after he had saved Lopunny from the monster hunters, and as he had said that very day, it was not his finest. There was no way for him to practise it other than seeing how long he could keep it going for, but it was a complex Move that only worked on living, breathing creatures besides the one who used it. And as far as he might be aware, he could be keeping the Move going only to use less of its strength in exchange. The only way to use it effectively was to find the right balance, which seemed almost second-nature to Mist. He he ought to ask her to help him hone his skills with it, but he hardly ever had a moment of freedom.

His was not an easy life.

But he could always let some of his stress out during training.

Half an hour or so later he had dressed one of the salvaged posts into a regular training dummy with arms and legs, and he'd even given it a little wooden sword for added immersion. But as soon as he was finished, he stepped away from it, feeling all of his contained worries and tensions boiling up inside of him.

Faces flashed before his vision. Human faces. The faces of the countless bounty hunters, village vigilantes, and mercenaries who had invaded The Forest.

Howl began to growl, and readied his paws. Then he lunged and struck with a ferocious Force Palm at the training dummy, which wobbled and rattled atop the post, but was anchored firmly into the ground and remained upright. He leapt back and lunged for it again, beating at it from all angles, left, right, left, crushing his fist down on its upturned-bucket head before driving it forwards in another Force Palm. Swinging his foot up and around and smacking it in the side, knocking the little wooden sword out of its grasp. He leapt back again and fired an Aura Sphere at the dummy's fallen weapon before it had a chance to recover it, which sent it spinning into the distance.

The dummy was severely damaged by now; standing lopsided, its armour dented all around; its limbs hanging awkwardly as though attached by a single thread.

Howl was panting, his breath hot in the air, anger and adrenaline coursing through him. His victory was imminent. All that remained was the finishing strike. He sped forwards and fired an Aura Sphere towards the dummy's head, which knocked the bucket off completely. He soared through the air with Extreme Speed, crashed hard into the dummy's chest and broke it away from its post at last, driving it through the air and bringing it finally to the ground. He pushed himself up at once and slammed his foot down onto his opponent, holding them in place, the faces still flashing across his sight in the place where the bucket had been.

"Nice knowing you," he snarled, readying the blow which had finished them all, the strike which had knocked all of the warriors out cold.

But then, as abruptly as if he had been dreaming, with as little warning as a sudden gust of wind, the faces shifted once again.

A young man with black hair and sharp green eyes.

And then a woman with blonde hair and benevolent, deep-blue eyes.

He halted his arm in mid-strike just before it collided with them, and then the faces disappeared.

Howl staggered away from the now-faceless target and stood, staring at the damage he had done.

He was not feeling angry anymore. He was stunned and shaking. Perhaps even truly afraid for the first time in years.

He stooped to the dummy and lifted it upright, brushing the dust off of it.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, Sally and Rowan's faces still vivid in his mind's eye.

He saw the bucket lying dejectedly on its side a few feet away and went over to retrieve it, and as he picked it up, he found it had snapped down the middle. It was hardly a bucket at all.

And in a flash, as he'd put the two broken halves together, one final memory rushed to the surface, one final face loomed before his eyes.

A human. A human female. Her waist-length red hair flowing to one side in the gale, her hazel eyes gazing warmly at him, and her lips curved in a loving smile.

The bucket slipped from his paws and fell with a clatter to the ground, where it split into two once again.

Back in his cave, when he had managed to steady his mind, he was sitting on his bed beside a small, flickering fire born of the splintered bits of wood from his unrestrained training. He was drilling his claws into the bucket to create holes through which he would be able to tie the two halves back together again, because after all, the bucket might not be able to fulfil its main purpose any longer, but he would still be able to find other uses for it.

As he finished attaching the two broken halves, he held the bucket before him in the light of the fire, remembering the faces flashing across it. Without any contemplation, he found himself closing his eyes and scanning the bucket for Aura, wondering if he might see something, but all he found was thin, weak traces of his own Aura lingering dazedly in places where he had been the most vicious.

Just his own Aura, rubbed off on just an ordinary bucket. What he had seen was nothing more than memories. He tossed it into a corner atop a pile and opened his eyes. He still didn't feel like resting. His mind was unable to be settled. At this rate, he might not sleep at all tonight.

He sighed. No use staying in here, then. He extinguished the fire and left his cave again. A quiet walk through The Forest might be refreshing.

Howl moved almost noiselessly through the trees along the lush pathways, heading in whatever direction he found them taking him in. He remembered the night before, when he had talked with Rowan on their way to Sally's tavern, and wondered mildly what the two of them were doing now. Was Rowan still in Rota Village? He'd said that he would try to look for work there, but had also said he would hope to continue travelling this new world. And Sally…

He slowed down and leaned against a tree to one side.

Rowan and Sally… Two young humans who had shown interest in him. Who had shown him kindness.

How strange some things in life turned out…

He heard a scuffle in the distance and a barely-hushed insult. And then there was another scuffle, a crunch of twigs and leaves, accompanied two loud thuds and grunts.

Howl looked towards the direction of the noises in alarm, for who in the world would be up at this hour? Not counting himself, that was.

He saw small dark silhouettes wrestling together and pushing, hitting, snarling garbled insults, and then one silhouette ran away from the other only to be engaged in hot pursuit. Howl closed his eyes and focused on their Auras before he lost track of them, hoping to catch up and stop whatever was going on, but what he saw caused a little lurch in his stomach. Among the two Auras that were ahead, there was a smaller, barely conspicuous Aura seemingly in the hold of the one that was fleeing from the other. The smaller Aura was unlike any other Aura that Howl knew.

It was gold. A shining, radiant gold.

Unable to believe what he was seeing, Howl sprinted after the two figures in the distance, hearing their voices more clearly as he drew close to their writhing tangle.

"Get OFF ME!" one of them cried suddenly, "It's MINE! Give it back!"

"No, it's MINE!" the other voice retorted, "It was in MY tree!"

"That's cuz I hid it there, stupid! I found it first - finders keepers - so it's mine!"

"Mine!"

"MINE-MINE-MI-"

"Enough!" Howl roared, seizing them and attempting to pull them apart, but the strugglers both held on fast to whatever was between them, and then Howl saw it again. Like a length of some mystical rope connecting the two Auras, there was a golden light hanging in-between one track of Aura which was one colour, and then connecting to another Aura on the other side.

Eventually Howl let go of one of them and snatched the object away with such force it was freed from both of their holds at the same time.

"What in the name of sanity are you doing?!" he demanded, "You could wake up half The Forest with the uproar you're making!"

"Who's there?!" a voice from the Aura on the right asked, a second before the one on the left vented the same question. For an answer, Howl enveloped his paw not holding the object in his own Aura, allowing it to glow and illuminate their surroundings.

He heard the two voices gasp and opened his eyes to see the faces of the two Pokémon before him.

"Bolt," he said, recognising the Emolga to the left, "and,"

But the face he saw next made him hesitate.

"…Ebony?" he said at last.

"S-Sir? What're you doing out here?" the Zorua asked uncertainly.

"I believe that's my line. What are you doing out here?"

"Boss!" said Bolt, stepping forwards, "Ah, I'm so glad you're here! This kid keeps saying that treasure's hers! But you know me, and I don't lie! That thing is mine!"

"NO, IT'S NOT!" Ebony shouted, "It's MINE! I found it first, it's MY treasure!"

"Treasure?" Howl echoed, looking from one to the other, but instantly they turned back on each other and began quarrelling again, raising their voices until he told them sharply to stop.

"What do you mean treasure?" he asked, holding his Aura-illuminated paw towards the object held in the other, "There isn't anything like that in here."

"Well, apparently there is!" said Bolt, "It was lying right beneath some leaves in my tree and I never even knew it was th-"

"That's because I hid it there!" Ebony cut in, "I found it first, so it's rightfully mine! And you can buzz right o-"

"Where did you find this, Ebony?" Howl asked suddenly, his eyes gleaming in the light reflected off the item they were so intrigued in.

"U-Umm…" Ebony said hesitantly. Howl flicked his gaze briefly down to her and then held the object by its small, brown string closer towards the Aura-light.

It seemed to be a silver medallion of some kind, one that had been forged into the size of a typical gold coin. But Howl was still aware of the Aura he had seen lingering on it. And then he saw something etched on its surface. A shape. A pattern, the likes of which he knew very well. He had felt that same tingle of recognition only one night previously.

He closed his paw around the medallion. There was no need for Ebony to answer him. For he knew where she had 'found' this treasure. Both the symbol and the Aura lingering on it gave him a very clear idea.

This medallion belonged to a certain human. And it had been stolen from her.

The light of the fire crackling in the second-floor room of Luna Tavern was the only light for a considerable amount of distance. The tavern itself was undisturbed that night, free from any travellers looking for rooms or loud, boisterous villagers drinking their minds away. The only occupant was Sally Luna herself, sitting in her quiet little room and reading just one of the many books she had in her collection. She had been reading that particular book all morning and afternoon, and it had grown to disappoint her with every passing page, which was thankfully almost due to end.

She had bid farewell to Rowan earlier that day, and, despite her still-lingering feelings about his actions the previous evening, told him she hoped to see him again sometime soon, and that whenever he could, to send her letters and keep in touch.

The memory of the words he had left her with in response still brought an angry flush to her cheeks.

She turned the final page of the book and then turned it over to look at its title one more time:

The Mind of The Monster

(Based on a true story!)

"What a heap of absolute bogus," she grumbled. She often found herself thinking vocally whenever she was alone.

Without a second thought, she tossed the book into the diminishing fire and watched as it caught light, warming the entire room in a matter of minutes. She wrapped her night-gown more tightly around her, rubbed her eyes wearily and moved over to the window to draw the curtains.

"Hasn't anyone bothered to learn anything about them by now?" she asked the left curtain as she pulled it shut.

"I mean, sure, they're a different species and all, but why in the world would they ever want to kidnap human 'damsels'? I'm pen-pals with Rowan, and that is hands-down the dumbest thing I've ever read in my entire life."

But as she was doing up the fastenings and moving onto the next window, a sudden thought came to her.

Rowan! There was someone trying to learn about these creatures - or as she knew them to be called, Pokémon! And she could ask him! She could ask him what he knew in a letter! And if he didn't know much, then…

She paused.

'Then maybe…' she continued in her head,

'If we ever see him again… I could ask…'

She felt her mind drift back to the Pokémon that Rowan had brought into her tavern.

'…him,' she concluded.

The gentle patter against the glass made her look up. It was starting to rain throughout the night. She wondered if the Pokémon had any kind of home for himself. If he had any shelter at all. She closed her eyes and gave a forlorn sigh. She sincerely hoped he did. And now that he was gone, there was so much more she wanted to know. So much she could have asked him…

She closed the last curtain with an air of finality and fell into her bed. She was due for another early morning, and there was nothing to be gained by mulling over matters she couldn't find answers to.

Lying on her side, she watched the last few specs of flame fade away until the room was finally cloaked in total darkness. Then there was silence. Silence but for the sound of the rain hammering on the roof of her home and deluging the prairie all around.

She closed her eyes.

But she had barely begun to fall into deep slumber when she opened them again. A voice had carried to her ears. A low, harsh, male voice hissing inaudible words. And then another voice. A man's, like the first, whispering in response. Sally managed to catch the word, 'asleep' being spoken, before a different voice cut haughtily across them both in a single breath.

Quietly she sat up and crept towards the window, pulling back the blinds just enough to see through. Her eyes scanned the shadowed path ahead, hoping to see some form of movement, but there was nothing to be seen. Not even the falling rain was visible to her. She heard the voices again, and found them drawing her eyes towards the ground below. She saw a pale shade of lantern-light spill over the area surrounding the front door, and she had only just realised what this could mean when she heard the faintest of metallic clicks.

'Burglars!' she thought, withdrawing her head from the curtains and backing away.

As if in response to her realisation, the sound of the door handle turning reached her, and she felt her insides convulse in horror.

But there was no familiar creek of the door itself opening.

She waited, holding her breath, until she heard more angry mutterings and then the metallic clicks resumed their succession.

'They're struggling,' she thought, trying to calm herself, 'They can't get in. They can't get the door open…!'

She let out the breath she'd been holding and tried to think her situation through carefully. She was alone. Isolated from any nearby villages by at least a mile or so. She had no means of defending herself, and her best hope was to somehow escape from these burglars before they found out where she was. But how could she do that? The second floor was too high for her to jump from, and her tatty bed sheets would fall apart sooner than work as a rope to lower herself with.

Then the escape route came to her: the side door! Not only were there things in the room there that she could not bear to leave to the mercy of thieves, but the door itself was completely out of sight of the front of the tavern even in broad daylight!

She rushed as quietly as she could to her drawer, rummaged for her keys and then hurried out of her room as fast as she could without running.

Along the darkened corridor where the four guest rooms were, down the stairs leading into the main room, and then through the door.

There, once stood in the open doorway, she picked up the metallic clicks more clearly than ever. She could see light under the gap between the door and the floorboards, hear the voices' words at last, and thought she could actually see something in the keyhole trying to pick the lock. She froze on the spot, realising just how close she was to danger.

'Why?' she found herself thinking, in spite of her own judgement, even with the awareness that the danger that frightened her so much was only feet away,

'Why this tavern? Why me?'

The turn and click of the door handle almost made her cry out. She backed against the wall, her hand slapped over her mouth, hoping to stifle her uncontrollable panting. But still, once again, the door did not open. The handle turned more vigorously than ever, but still the lock had not been released.

She knew if she hesitated like that one more time, she would be in real danger. Right now, what might happen to her was really in her control; the burglars didn't know she was awake, they didn't know she knew they were there, and she could use that as her one chance to get away. She knew what she mustn't let herself do was panic. There was nothing she could do about her own fear, but if she were to panic, she would be unable to move under her own command, unable to think and plan out her actions. If she panicked, in short, all the things she dreaded happening to her were going to happen to her.

"C'mon," she whispered as loudly as she dared, "C'mon, Sally, you can do this…!"

She moved along the wall towards the door leading to the other room and slipped inside.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark quite well by then, though she knew the location of what she was looking for, anyway. She felt her way towards the fireplace and swept her hands along the mantelpiece. One after the other after the other, she collected the little wooden boxes and stowed them in the pockets of her nightwear, but as her fingers reached the largest box, the one holding the most important possession she had, she found that something was amiss. She swept her fingers along it again, for surely she had imagined it! Surely!

But she hadn't.

As she felt the lid of the largest box beneath her palm a final time, she realised that the box was open. Her medallion, the medallion she cherished as much as anyone could cherish an object was gone! The medallion she'd held dearly for nine years was not there! It had vanished!

"No…!" she blurted out, but she caught herself and felt the surface of the mantelpiece desperately. It was the one thing she could not leave behind, the one thing she would never stop grieving the loss of!

"Please…!" she groaned, that too escaping her without her permission, but then came a sound more startling and more fear-invoking than any other she had experienced that night. The sound of a second click, and of voices nearby, just beyond the side door.

Sally couldn't help it; a barely-contained yelp forced its way out of her, and then the clicks stopped abruptly.

"D'ya hear that…?" muttured a voice from outside. Sally backed slowly away from the door, shutting her eyes tight, screwing up her whole face in one great effort to keep her voice under control. The voices had stopped. The clicks of the lock had stopped. The rain was all to be heard.

Sally turned away from the side door and crept back into the main room so carefully that her own footsteps were noiseless to her.

'Back upstairs…!' she thought, not daring to let so much as a single breath leave her, 'Back upstairs, and… I'll…' But she stopped and looked back to her right. The clicks of the front door had stopped as well. And unless she was horribly mistaken, they had stopped before the side door's clicks had begun! Was it possible that the burglars had given up completely on that door and moved onto the next? Yes, it must be! There wasn't any light beyond it anymore!

This was her chance!

She hurried along to the other end of the large room, taking extreme care to not bump into a chair or a table, and finally she reached the front door.

Slowly, quietly, hardly daring to breathe, Sally lifted the key from her pocket, gazed through the peephole, and then unlocked it as carefully as possible. She closed her hand around the doorknob, turned it, and then pulled.

The instant she had let go of the door, the instant it had been opened, something had happened which she could hardly even recall.

She had been a mere second from escape, about to leave her own tavern and flee into the cold, wet night, but something had been waiting for her, something had come crashing forwards and knocked her over, stunning her. And after that, everything was blank.

She could hear voices. Vague voices talking to each other, some exhilarated and some sounding cold and severe.

She thought she heard her own name mentioned, but couldn't be sure. Her whole body felt so numb, and she was so confused.

"HEY!" a harsh voice snapped, before a fist was slammed onto a table directly beside her.

She started and blinked. She could see a lantern flickering beyond the clenched fist. She looked up and saw there were masked figures crowded in front of her. Dark, masked, figures.

"You listenin' to me?" said the same harsh voice.

"H-Hah…" she croaked.

"What's that, lass…?" the voice breathed.

Sally croaked again, "Hah…" and finally she found her voice,

"…Hard not to."

The owner of the voice recoiled, and Sally felt a violent urge to lunge at the masked intruder, but she had barely pushed herself up when the other two seized her by the shoulders and pushed her back. She fell into what felt like a chair, and scowled up at the three of them. Now that she had been caught, a sudden anger had taken hold of her.

Outrage.

These men were holding her captive inside her own home!

"Good," jeered the first man, the one who seemed to be in charge,

"good… since you're behaving and listening, that'll make things even less complicated. We were gonna try and find it all out for ourselves, you know, little lady, but since you were kind enough to welcome us inside… we have some questions for you."

"Questions?" she repeated scathingly, folding her arms, "Sorry, stranger, but I'm not available for silly surveys at the present time. Y'see, when a building has a little sign on its door saying 'closed', and the aforementioned building is locked, that usually means that the building… is CLOSED!"

She bellowed the last word, hoping to show them all she was not afraid.

One of the men cracked his knuckles menacingly and advanced a step, but the leader held him back.

"Not yet," he hissed, lowering their arm, "Not yet…"

He turned back to Sally, who continued to glare, and when he gave a cruel smirk as though he were amused by this, she raised an eyebrow in disdain.

"Get out," she said, feeling her temper begin to raise even further,

"Get out of my house! Get out of my face! Just how low do you have to go to barge into a perfectly ordinary tavern like this?!"

"Ah, see now, that's why we're here, missy… This isn't an ordinary tavern, is it?" said the leader.

"Explain," she replied coldly.

"Well… why in the world would you set up a business way out here in the middle of nowhere? Surely you could have found a place in some of the neighbouring villages?"

"I appreciate the peace, quiet, and privacy."

"Oh, I'm sure you do, Miss! I'm sure you do…!"

"Oh, spare me the riddles and the wannabe-creepy way of talking, would you? You don't scare me. Ask your questions and get out!"

"You watch your mouth!" said one of the other men, but again the leader held them back and growled at them to restrain themselves from any further interruptions, even though he himself sounded like he was beginning to lose his patience too.

"All right then," he said, "Answer me this, Sally Luna. If you say that is your reason for being so all the way out here, then I can only assume you're telling the truth. But why, then, do you run this whole place by yourself? All the cooking, cleaning and serving - that's all your job, isn't it? It must be such hard work!

But the real question isn't why; it's how. Something like that… it's unbelievable. I don't think that scrawny body of yours could manage so much labour on its own, so you must have someone helping you…"

"No. I don't. And you make it sound like I'm managing a palace. This is one building. I think my scrawny body can cope."

"Really? Well, we don't. You must have had a very good reason for choosing such a life, Miss Luna. Such a hard, lonely life.

…Unless there was some sort of… special assistance? Some presences that you don't make public in the tavern?"

"Special assistance?" Sally repeated, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Why here, Miss Luna? Why alone? Why so very close to The Forest?"

"Why… What're you getting at?"

The leader hissed, showing rank, filthy teeth and leaned forwards, placing his hands on the chairs arms.

"Where are they, woman?" he demanded, his breath rotten inside her nostrils, "Where are the monsters? Where are you keeping them?"

"Monsters?" she repeated, angling her face away from his, "There're no monsters in here. Well, not the kind you mean."

The man held his position for a few moments, then withdrew his face from hers (for which she was glad) and stood to his full height again.

"Ah well… that's okay…" he said, and there was hardly a trace of calm left in his voice. His anger was clear and audible even to his companions, who had shifted glances at him from behind their masks.

"We don't really need you to answer that one. We'll find out for ourselves soon enough. But before we do, I have just one last question for you.

Last night, I'm told, you were visited by… particularly strange customers, right? A hooded stranger and a young man?"

Sally said nothing. There was no point in denying it, though she wasn't going to admit it either.

"We were just hoping you might tell us who they were, Sally? Those two-"

"I don't know," she said at once, so quickly she had barely formed separate syllables, "I don't know who they were. Just customers. But If I did know, I wouldn't tell you. That's a big rule about running a business: not giving out personal information of your customers. And I bet if I looked really hard, I'd probably find a big, underlined paragraph about not giving it to the guys who invade your home at night, either."

"Don't you try to hide it…! Who was that hooded stranger?!"

"I said I don't know," she spat, "I get a lot of 'hooded strangers' at my tavern, which one are you referring to?"

The man's anger was growing even clearer by now. He seemed, to Sally, to be exercising all his restraint not to seize her by the throat.

He drew away, breathing heavy puffs, and she could see his fists trembling.

"The boy, then," he said, looking at her from his new position, his eyes gleaming like his companions' in the light of the lantern flickering on the table,

"I guess I can't blame you for not knowing - or saying you don't know a fella with a hood pulled up, but you had better not deny you know that kid."

Sally felt her palms begin to tremble. She knew what they wanted to know, and she knew what might happen if she didn't tell them. But Rowan…! She couldn't sell him out! She wouldn't! He would never do that to her if he'd been in her position!

"Who was he, Luna? Tell me now! I know you know 'im! I saw the two of you hugging. I saw you show 'im into that 'private room' and sure didn't see him comin' out! Tell us who he is right now!"

Sally closed her eyes. Then answered with the utmost finality:

"Dunno."

The rain fell more loudly outside the walls of her home than ever, and there was even the sound of wind wailing alongside it, but there was no noise inside the tavern itself.

She refused to open her eyes, refused to look at any of the men, for if she saw their faces, her spirit would sway and her resolve would falter and true fear would enter her heart. She knew what might happen to her next was going to be the most frightening thing that had happened all evening, perhaps even, the most frightening thing in her whole life.

But it was for Rowan.

She would never betray Rowan.

"YOU LYING, LITTLE WITCH!"

Sally's eyes flew open just in time to see the sole of a boot speeding towards her and land with agonising force right between her eyes.

She cried out as she felt pain bludgeon her mind and the chair she was seated on topple, and then they fell down together, her and the chair, so hard that she was flung off of it before she'd even hit the ground.

Her senses were all muddled and hazy and full of pain. Her vision was blurred, her ears were ringing, and all she felt was the trembling and thudding vibrations of the floor beneath her. The voices were dim, but she managed to make sense of some of what was being said.

"Garber! Garber, stop!" said one voice.

"Garber! We came here to investigate! Not this!" said another.

And then the voice of the leader roared above the commotion,

"GET OUT OF MY WAY! MOVE! She's some kinda person-hating monster-freak, I know it! You can see it in her eyes! She'll get her monster friends to attack our village!"

"You don't know that, Garber!"

"I DO KNOW IT! Get out of the way, and I swear you'll all thank me for this someday! You'll realise I did what I had to!"

"Garber! NO, GARBER! Get ahold of yourself, man! We're not here to-"

But whatever the man had been about to say was never known. At that exact moment, there had been a succession of sounds from across the room; first a scuffle of some kind, a creak of the front door being moved on its hinges, and then a faint hiss through the air as something small went soaring past the men's heads and smashed through the glass of the lantern, sending the pieces leaping in all directions. All this had transpired in barely a second, before the tiny flicker of lantern-light went out.

Sally heard cries of fear and alarm from all three men, and would have joined them if she hadn't felt so faint and dizzy.

But her heart was beginning to beat fast, sending adrenaline speeding through her body. She didn't have the strength to open her eyes fully or lift her head up from the ground, but she was still able to make out noise.

"What was that?!" said one of the men's voices.

"No idea!" replied another, "I can't see a thing! Where are you? Where's the girl?!"

Sally tried to move her arms and pull herself away from the voices, not wanting to be anywhere near when the one of the man named Garber told the other two to spread out and look. But when she did hear his voice, it was unlike anything she had been expecting. She listened more closely. Was that a tremor she could detect in his breathing?

"No…!" she heard him mutter, "No, no, no… H-How…? W-Why…?"

"Garber?" said one of the other voices in concern, "Garber? What's wrong with you?"

"We're dead," said Garber, his voice straining, "We're done for. It's here! H-He's here - It's come here for us!"

"What? Who do you mean?" said a final voice, "Who's here?"

Then Sally's eyes fell upon the door, and her insides gave a dull plummet. There was a mysterious blue light beyond the front door, shining through the gaps and keyhole, growing brighter and brighter, so that it began to spread across the floor.

"Who's here, Garber?!" a voice demanded, starting to sound afraid.

The light had spread far by then, and she could see the men's shadowy outlines turned towards the door, and two of the heads looking towards the third.

Garber's voice trembled, vivid with fear, and he blurted out at last,

"The monster! The voice in The Forest! It's the same light as before! The monster in The Forest is here to kill us all!"

"-Wh-What?!-"

"-Garber?!-" said the other men's voices in succession.

"It's here, it's here…!" Garber moaned, sounding uncannily different from who he had been moments earlier, "The Demon…! It's here!"

"Garber, don't talk like an idiot!" said one other voice, "The Demon stays in The Forest, everybody knows that! That light's just… moonlight!"

"No…!" Garber hissed, "I'm telling you, that's it right there, I remember that light! It's right outside that door!"

"Oh puh-lease, Garber, wake up. You sound like a scared little kid right now."

Sally heard the same voice give a scornful laugh and then saw a figure move towards the door, extending his arm.

His companions urged him back in protest, but he took not the slightest notice and pulled the door fully open. The midnight-blue light shone blindingly into their eyes and Sally shut hers tight, expecting noises, fear, confusion and cries of pain.

But none came.

"What in…?" said a voice.

"Is that it? Is that what…?" said the voice of the man by the open door.

Sally raised her head an inch or so and looked towards the light. There was no-one there. No monstrous creature framed in the doorway. But there was something there. A kind of shimmer in the air. A dark, transparent haze of deepest blue.

Then the man's voice by the door sounded. He was laughing. An uncertain, cautious laugh.

"Is that it, Garber? That the dreaded Demon you won't shut up abou-"

All three men yelled out in horror as a clawed paw enveloped in the same midnight-coloured light plunged down from above the doorframe and pulled the burglar up until all they could see was his legs. They heard him splutter and gasp for breath, saw his legs flailing wildly around and heard the unmistakable rumbling of a monster's growl.

And then the noises Sally heard next made her feel sick. Cries of agony, cracks, thuds, merciless snarls as whatever it was holding the man beat and brutalised invisible points.

"No!" cried the voice of the man who had laughed alongside his companion, "EDWARD, NO!"

The light beyond the struggling man's legs had almost been extinguished, but through it Sally saw one man rush forwards to help, but he'd barely taken two steps when there was a fleeting glimpse of the man named Edward falling to the ground before a dark figure swung down and kicked aside the second man, and as it passed through the shimmer of light in mid-air, it wafted like smoke before giving out and plunging the surroundings into darkness. There came a powerful thud and a crash as the man by the door tumbled back and fell into tables and chairs, and then more thuds - this time accompanied by grunts and wheezes as the creature struck the leader multiple times until he came crashing down as well, the weight of his fall alone making the floorboards strain. And then Sally heard two light patters on either side of her, and caught a trace damp fur in the air.

"No…!" she gasped, "Get awa-" The words had barely left her when she felt two large paws take a powerful hold under her arms and felt her body leave the floor entirely. She couldn't even find the strength to struggle. She couldn't take in enough air to make any form of noise. All she could do was let herself be carried away from the front door, the men, and her one and only means of escape.

She wobbled as the creature came to an abrupt halt and lowered her into a corner.

She shut her eyes tight once again and pressed herself against the wall as if hoping she could disappear into it.

The rage-filled sounds that had been rumbling from the monster suddenly stopped, and Sally pressed herself even closer into the wall, tensing her whole body, preparing for the inclement pain of her own attack.

One of the large paws gripped her arm and she gasped and tried to pull it away, but the creature tugged it out and held it firmly, grasping her hand with the other paw.

Sally couldn't help it; her own end was near and there was nothing she could do to stop it! A sob was shaken from her, and before she knew it, then another and another.

The paw's grip loosened.

The creature's hold was firm on her wrist, but gentle and delicate at the same time. She felt something lowered into her palm - something thin and metal.

And strangely familiar to her.

"Wh…" she croaked.

She closed her fingers around the object and felt a flat metal surface pressed into her hand whilst smooth strands brushed along her fingertips.

"What…"

She tried to speak, tried to sit up and see the dark figure in front of her more clearly, but then she felt a paw suddenly push her back against the wall, and heard a growl so low and deep it made the floor beneath her quake.

She understood and kept still. The growling subsided. The creature released its hold on her, and she heard it disappear into the shadows again. Sally could hear the burglars whispering to one another and wished she could see where they were.

"Where's the door!?" came Garber's hushed voice, "We've gotta get out of here now! Isaac! Where are you?! Edward?!"

"Shh! Garber!" came the other man's voice, and then a noise made them fall silent. A shuffle and a clatter of wood on wood.

"It's here somewhere…!" said Garber.

There was a quiet, scratching sound, and then a tiny spec of flame illuminated one of the burglars masked faces. He held the lit matchstick out before him and turned this way and that as the clattering sounds fell again.

"Isaac, what're you doing, you-"

Garber never managed to finish his sentence, for a shadow suddenly leapt out from the darkness and crashed into the man holding the match, which fell down and was snuffed out. There were the sounds of a close struggle; grunts, quick, narrow breaths, wrestling and striking, and then there was a loud thud, and the burglar by the name of Isaac gave a weak groan before falling silent. There was an exclamation of utmost fury from Garber and then the sound of heavy boots thundering through the room, knocking tables and chairs and all other obstacles out of the way. There came an odd sound - something of an alarmed snarl, and then a thin hiss through the air. More clatters, more grunts and then a terrible slicing sound and a roar of pain and rage that pierced Sally from one ear to the other. Another thud, and then a sudden burst of light showed Garber hurtling backwards through the air and collide with an upended table. Bare, padded feet running across the wooden floor, and then one last strike,

one last grunt,

one last thud.

Sally's whole body was numb from the cramped kneeling-position she had been forced to occupy, and her own breaths stung her bone-dry throat.

However frightened she had been before was very little compared to how she felt now. At least before she'd had some control, at least she'd known roughly what was happening and what to expect. Now she was not even sure whether to move or to stay put, to call out or remain silent, to wait or to act.

She was surrounded in uncertainty.

Slowly, very slowly, she leaned forwards, and squinted through the darkness, though no form took shape other than the ones of chairs and tables that had been knocked onto their sides. At last she climbed stiffly to her feet and breathed carefully for a minute. Then she took a cautious step forwards.

There was a noise from something ahead, and then the sound of that something ahead moving across the room.

She staggered back in horror, and felt her back against the wall again. It couldn't be true! It couldn't be! The Demon was approaching her. It was not going to spare her after all. She was a human, and clearly that made her an enemy.

She hid her face in her hands as the footsteps became louder.

"No…" she pleaded, "Please no… Please just leave me alone… Please just go away… Go back to The Forest…!

I've never hurt any Pokémon and I never will…! I don't want to die, please…!

I won't…

Please…

Please don't…"

She felt hot tears stream down her cheeks and continued pleading with the creature all the while, knowing deep down that it was no use.

What a terrible way for it to end. She had always known the risks of being so close to The Forest, but she had never once set foot inside, or even so much as seen it up close! She had only just started getting used to her new home, only just started to grow familiar with the life she had chosen!

But in the end, it had all been for nothing.

'Rota Village must have done something intolerable…' she thought, listening to the sound of the Demon's footsteps…

…moving away?

She fell silent again and listened hard. Yes, there was no mistaking it! the Demon had not been approaching, it had been leaving! She was going to be spared!

But this great rush of relief did not last long.

As her pulse began to relax and her ears began to pick up sound more clearly, she realised that the volume she had been hearing in the creature's footsteps had not been a misinterpretation; there was a definite limp to its every step. And then she heard another sound. A steady drip, drip, and slide of some oily substance along the floor.

In the back of her mind, she remembered that terrible slicing sound that had rent the air.

The Demon of The Forest was wounded.

There was the sound of some objects being thrown roughly aside, or pushed along the floor, but all the while those unsteady footsteps drew closer and closer to where she knew the door to be.

She waited, her breath held. Waited for the footsteps to fade into the distance. But instead there came a sound of feet sliding on the floor and something falling hard to the ground, and then came a roar of pain so terrible it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Then there was no noise at all. The rain had stopped, and the night was still. There wasn't anything to be heard.

"Hello…?" she called, her own voice sounding uncanny in her ears.

"Hello?"

There was no response.

Sally felt her way forwards, twice nearly tripping over a chair leg or stepping-and-falling over one of the burglars limp bodies, and she even nearly walked headlong into the open door, but finally she found where the creature had fallen and looked down in the direction of its heavy, snarling, hoarse breaths.

She couldn't see anything through the pitch-black night. Not even the outline of the wounded figure. Then, as if in response to this dilemma, the moon finally drifted out from behind its veil of clouds and clear, bright light shone down onto the earth, spreading over the Pokémon who had saved her.

The Demon of The Forest himself.

"Howl…?" Sally Luna breathed into the night.

Howl's eyes flickered and his breaths snagged as she lowered her eyes to the pool of blood beneath him, oozing scarlet all over the grass.

The Demon's eyes drifted shut.

His breaths faded away.

And silence fell once more.