It was the day after, and about mid-afternoon, I guessed. Me and Jolene were currently trying to slash our way through the undergrowth of Viridian Forest, which ought to have been named something else because 'forest' suggests a pleasant stroll through sparse trees and wildlife glancing down on you from the foliage overhead.
This was not true for what we were trekking through. There was barely a path at all, and the trees looked as though somebody humongous had stuffed them up their nose and sneezed them down, then repeated until it was impossible to go anywhere. Gooey slime hung in curtains from branches that were wrinkled and bent not only with old age but also due to a lack of space; incredible amounts of rocks sprinkled under our feet and pushed roots upwards and around themselves; and there was not a single spot of sunlight, except suggestions of day coming through where the layers of leaves were slightly thinner than a tangled mess.
The worst thing, however, were the brambles that littered everywhere the trees could not reach - it felt as though the flora cooperated deliberately to make the journey unpleasant, and the brambles did a better job of it because their whipping arms were covered in needles. My legs were spattered with red pricks and slashes from the things, and even my arms were not unharmed, because there were so many nooks and crannies that had thorny bushes growing on the walls, too.
There was life down here, though, but it was not the sort you would expect if you were used to regular forests, such as squirrels or deer or woodpeckers. What it had, were vast colonies of bugs that dangled high up in the treetops, or occasionally splashed downwards on the trunks or fallen logs. Fungi climbed every surface, and in turn were climbed by vast colonies of ants. Much rather than making it cosy or hinting of life, it felt creepy, like a haunted graveyard - only with worms and maggots instead of ghosts.
We had probably been in here for hours already, but only now did we manage to fight our way into what could be called a clearing, if you had a lot of goodwill to spare. There I sat down on a great big mushroom that was sticking out of a tree, while Jolene settled down near a glistening piece of wood*.
After catching my breath, and drying off some yuk from my elbows, I called out Mr. Squeak.
... I felt bad about that name, I really did. Only at the time, when the Rattata had come up and stood on its hind legs and looked cutely at me, some basic human impulse had commanded that the only thing it could possibly be called was Mr. Squeak, or perhaps Bernard.
"Um," I said, after the light had cleared from its form, "how're you doing?"
It glanced around apprehensively. There was a definite upward motion to the lookaround - and as it finally caught sight of the uppermost reaches of the leaves, it faltered and seemed to shrink.
"M-meep!" it squealed, and cowered down.
Jolene gave me a nod while picking a few pins out of its legs, and I tried: "Yes, but we're gonna be, um, out soon. Jus' b'brave, okay?" I thought about it for a second, then added: "... 'll put you back 'nto th'ball, if you'd like."
Through its terror, it managed to whimper a simple "Yeyes", before falling back to trembling heavily. I held out the ball to it, and a red ray of light darted out, enveloping the frightened Rattata until Rattata was no more. The beam, satisfied, returned to the sphere, storing Mr. Squeak inside.
It had been out at the beginning, but had been so afraid of the increasingly looming overgrowth that I'd recalled it. Not that I blamed it, of course.
I found myself feeling around for the third Poké Ball, but suddenly thought better of it. The bees up in the trees here looked competitive, and probably wouldn't much like it coming out... I'd best save it until we were past the forest.
Instead, I turned to look at Jolene, and asked it: " 'm tired... D'you know how we c'n get out?"
"Ssssorry," it replied, deftly flicking a maggot off its arm. "I have never been here before."
"Seen any signs?"
"No, I haven't."
I shivered gently, absently rubbing a scrape on my elbow. Well, that was that. We'd just have to fight our way through even more angry trees, then, until we found the exit. It couldn't be that far away, that much I figured, but we could very well have been walking in circles for all I knew.
Sighing, I stood up, and Jolene did the same. We set off ahead, towards a slight opening between the spiny clusters of wood; it could have been called a path, but only by very small insects.
After pressing our way through the hinders, we emerged in another clearing, one that was a bit larger than the previous one. But there was still no way out in sight.
What was in sight, however, was a thick vine swinging in a wide circle and bearing down upon us from a high-up branch nearby. From it hung what was clearly a young boy, except with the large amount of frayed nets hanging from him you might think he was a sea monster at first glance.
He was screaming loudly as he descended, but it was not the majestic howl of a forest king but rather a shriek of abject terror. Clinging to the vine with all his might, which was not very much, he came to the end of his arc - where the length of plant finally snapped.
I scrambled over to the bushes he had landed in, but stopped short of entering the mess of green and brown; I could see there were particularly unpleasant spikes in there. They had hooks in them.
The thing shook for a little while, as a cry grew gradually louder from within, and soon the boy was standing up in a flurry of brown twigs, shouting his pain to the uncaring world in general. Then, as though realising something, he flew out of the thorns and yelped.
"Um, you all right?" I ventured, and I felt my fingers fiddling a bit with the belly strap of the knapsack. "What're you doing?"
"Ouch, ow!" the boy said. He was currently dressed, if such a word could be used, in rags. They had been clothes once, but then he'd found the Viridian Forest and things had gone downhill; his bug-catching nets were also ripped asunder. Rhythmically, he gave various grunts of pain as he pinched needles and thorns from his body.
"Oh... Hi there," he said eventually, as though he had only just now realised that I was there. Out of his torn shirt pocket, he pulled a very bent pair of glasses, which had cracked on one eye; he put them on and considered me. "What are you doing here?"
"Tryin' t'get out, um, mist'r."
"Perhaps you might like some directions?" said the boy, and now he sounded very much hopeful.
Hesitating a bit, I replied: "Yes?"
"Then we'll have a battle! If I lose, I can show you the way out!" Suddenly, the fingers of his left hand clutched three Poké Balls.
I took a step back, and felt Jolene shuffle out of the way behind me. "Um... 'd really like best not to, mist'r..."
"But you must! Those are the rules! I call the battle, and you have to fight." This was said as a statement of fact, but also with the twinge that said "I like these facts."
"Can't we... Battle later?"
"No!" he almost shouted, and I was so surprised by the force of it that I had to take another step to steady myself. Without any other ado, he skilfully flung out a Poké Ball; it landed right between us, and exploded in a blast of white.
A tiny, hairy bug stood there as the light vanished. The creature looked like somebody had drilled holes in orange marbles of various sizes and strung them on a length of thread, and then tied the back end to a hook and the front end to a party hat. Small red feet stuck out from each of the orbs that made up its body; a nose and pair of eyes adorned the largest, which was the head.
"Weedle," it wheezed, as I attempted to wrench my horrified gaze away from it. Oh, why'd he have to have that, of all Pokémon?
"Um, Jolene... C'n you do it?"
It paused, peering at the caterpillar, but something in my voice seemed to get through to it. Setting its jaw, it took a step forward and nodded.
The legend I'd seen appearing above its head out of nowhere so many times already, did so. 'Jolene', and after that, 'Lv. 14', hung suspended in thin air and followed the Charmander's every movement.
Forcing myself to look at the Weedle, I saw that it only had Lv. 7 pasted up. Then I quickly turned away. " 't's all yours..." I whispered, and stood still as a statue, staring fixedly at a nearby trunk.
A whoosh and the sounds of a crackling fire were soon heard, but I heard no agonising cries of burning death from the Weedle. Instead, I heard it grunt in pain after a slashing sound that I suspected was Jolene's claws sweeping at it.
"That is a very strong Charmander," I heard the bug catcher say, with awe in his voice. Two pings told me he'd recalled his Weedle and sent out his next Pokémon; the sparkle of the flame-ignited grass was still a very present noise in the background.
This time, there was something that could best be described as a 'shing', and then a crunch and a thud.
Two more pings, and an appreciative whistling sound from the ragged boy.
And then the whistling sound fell, making it sound more like something heavy was falling out of the sky, following a swift banging noise. Another distant ping came, and then Jolene said carefully: "You can look around now."
Slowly, I turned. There, to the left of the makeshift battlefield, was a still blazing fire, although it was quickly dissipating by dint of very much slime and mould covering the plant roots. Charmander stood waiting, with a bit of concern in its eyes; I forced a smile at it.
The boy, on the other hand, was scratching his head. "That's the strongest Charmander I have ever seen, that is," he said. Then he appeared to recall something. "Come to think of it, it's the only Charmander I've seen."
He lifted away a torn piece of cloth that seemed to have been a jacket once, and from it he pulled a notebook and a pencil. My existence seemed to momentarily disappear for him; he'd started to hum.
I tried clearing my throat. "Um... Mist'r?"
"Now, let's see... It evolves around... Oh my... Oh?" Glancing up, he caught hold of me with his eyes again, and adjusted his glasses to no avail. "Yes?"
"Think 'll want to get out now..."
"Oh, nothing worse? Just head straight over there," he replied, pointing off to the other end of the open space. "There's a track leading through the brambles, and it'll take you right out, no worries."
Jolene groaned, but I nodded swiftly. "Thanks, mist'r," I said, and started inching my way away; I noted with the back of my head that the last of the fire went out with a soaked hiss.
The bug catcher was left standing as I tried to get away with a minimum of fuss. Jolene followed right behind, both of our feet squelching on the forest floor, and after a few minutes we stood outside what the boy had called a 'track'.
It wasn't. If it was, it was a demo.
There was a hole, just above ground level**, that was just wide enough for me to clamber through. If I had no concern for my clothing or for infections.
My Charmander was staring at me, tongue hanging out in disgust.
"I know, but we got to... 've you seen another way?"
"I could torch the playssss," it said disdainfully. "But I won't."
"Less go, then."
We crawled for a while through the people-width tunnel, the various plants cracking and bending under our knees, until I suddenly saw a bright light ahead. Scurrying forward as fast as I dared, I saw that we were only fifty feet away from freedom.
Feeling relieved, I half-turned my head as much as I dared, and said to Jolene: "Not long now... I c'n see the outside!"
"Ick..."
"We're gonna be out of th'woods any minute now!"
"... I'll never get out of the woodssss..." it moaned.
I paused. "That sounded, um, sort of fillysoppical, Jolene."
"It'ssss not. My foot issssstuck in a bog."
-
* I was not surprised to learn that if you wanted to light a fire in here, you needed to do it with at least a dozen firebombs; Jolene's tail had touched many leaves that all repelled the flame because of the icky slime, and even dead branches down here were soggier than so many used handkerchiefs.
** It was not the ground, and it most definitely wasn't level, but it was as close as you could get to either in that jungle.