I'm on a roll with this story! Whew, okay, be calm - I can't get too excited. But I'm very happy with the progress I've made on this tale so far. I've actually got several other chapters finished, I just haven't uploaded them yet. I like to be ahead in my stories, just in case I, well... let's just hope it doesn't come to the point that I stop updating. Being a writer is harder than it looks, I guess.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon (but a majority of the characters in here were created by me. Just thought I'd throw that out there.)

Chapter 3: The Trail That Disappeared

Subject: Ruminations on the Nature of the Anima
To: Silas Gracidea

Dear friend,
Good tidings unto you, Silas. I hope that your life so far has been nothing short of relaxing and exciting at the same time. I also hope that your responsibilities and the nature of your role have not worn you down too much. I have been living a quiet life here in my little abode. It is here that I think the most deeply, and I would like to share with you some of the theories I have come to on the nature and behaviour of the Anima.

As you and I both know, we have been born in this world and immediately upon birth, a wandering Pokemon spirit comes to reside within us. We are bestowed its powers and talents, and it can help us find our place in the world and society. Like the anima itself, we are only able to use the maximum of four abilities that the anima has allowed itself to learn. But why only four? What is the magical number behind a rounding out of four powers, and one special affinity unique to our kind of anima? In school, the children are helped to discover the name of their Pokemon's special ability. My Own Tempo has helped greatly with my music studies as well as my work on theories such as this one. Forgive me for sliding off track somewhat, but I do hope that you have been training your own musical talent as well!

I shall not bore you with a held out rant - I know that long lectures have bored you when we were in school together. But I know that you have had your own ideas on this whole concept yourself, so I thought it appropriate to share with you. Why do you think the anima are only capable of recollecting four moves at a time? Even you yourself, with such an esteemed anima, must also abide by those rules. And one more question, before I end this email: Why do the anima choose us? Why do each of our anima, each one a specific Pokemon, choose each person? Perhaps the Pokemon soul simply wanders and happens upon a newborn without its anima half. Or perhaps the two souls search for each other in this vast universe, until the moment of birth comes and they can finally unite as one.

Ah, that is a mystery that will likely not be discovered for a long time. I do hope I have not bothered you with this email, but I just had to get it out to someone, and you are among the few that I can trust in this world. Please take good care of yourself, my friend, and do not lose yourself in the world of swirling spirits struggling to find their identities, myself included.

Sincerest regards from your childhood friend.

The pair's trudge through the woods was getting to be almost too relaxing. They had to keep reminding each other that they were on a serious mission, and they were not out in the woods to go for a nature stroll. Cyrano felt in his element; with the plants and trees growing all around and the grass buzzing beneath his feet, he could feel the Treeko within him perk up with excitement and a new feeling of power.

Fortunately, the kidnappers had gone right through the forest and didn't exactly make an attempt to cover up their tracks. Trampled grass and bushes that had been partially cut down made for a particularly obvious trail. Cyrano and Freyr followed it more and more, and as they did, it seemed to widen, to grow in size.

"It looks like a bunch of people converged here to move as a group," Freyr noted. "Though how they managed to get through the forest in large numbers while dragging a bunch of kids is still a bit beyond me. Oh, wait, hang on a minute."

Cyrano noticed it at the same time. "Look," he gasped.

They'd arrived in a sizable forest clearing. Though there were spots along the edges that were pristine and untouched, the middle area was a different story. Dirt had been kicked up, grass and plants flattened, and there was even a few spots that showed a bit of a struggle had happened: a patch of burnt grass here, a spot of acid there. Then Cyrano saw something else. Four lines had dug into the soft dirt and showed a long trail leading into the forest, in the same direction they had been walking. He bent down and saw that his suspicions were correct. There were also foot marks surrounding the lines in the grass.

"Some kind of four wheeler," Freyr said as he peered at the wheel trail. "Whether it was a wagon or a powered vehicle, I'm not sure."

"The wheels aren't much thicker than that of a bicycle's," Cyrano said in bewilderment. "Did they use that thing to transport all the kids? There are footprints around the wheel tracks as well. Maybe the kids are kept in the cart and the men walked around it? Surely they can't walk the kids forever. Or maybe-"

"Maybe they used some kind of terror tactic to make them obey," Freyr added grimly.

Cyrano fell silent. His sister was a fighter, a rebel. He couldn't bear to think of the harm that might come to her if she tried to resist her captors. He shook his head.
"C'mon," he said with a stony face. "Let's hurry. Which direction are we going in?"

"West."

"They may have gotten some distance in on us, but maybe we can catch up."

"How about we run a little bit? The wheel trail is clear enough."

"Sounds like a good idea."

The boys hitched up their packs and began to jog, following the wheel-damaged dirt towards the setting sun.

And then out of nowhere, the trail vanished.

"How can this be?" Cyrano gaped at the spot where the four lines just stopped abruptly. Even the pressed grass that had followed the sides of the wheels were gone. Just ahead of their only trail, the forest appeared to be left untouched. Cyrano walked until he was right at the tip of the wheel trail and squinted down at the grass, sure that he was seeing things or rather, not seeing what he should be seeing - a trail.

Cyrano turned to Freyr and cried helplessly, "What do we do? Our only lead is gone! How can a big wide vehicle and a whole gang of men just - just - disappear?"

Freyr was staring at the space in front of the trail intently. "I bet they teleported," he said simply.

"What?" For a moment Cyrano thought his friend had gone crazy, but Freyr was being serious with his assumption. "Please explain," Cyrano said impatiently.

"Well..." Freyr looked around at the tops of the trees around them. "It couldn't have flown off the ground, otherwise there would be a gradual thinning out of the wheel lines. Also, it isn't wide enough between the trees, and there should be a disturbance in the leaves and branches if they somehow squeezed in. From what I can see, there isn't. So they must have teleported."

"But - how -" Cyrano sputtered, when suddenly the leaves in the tree behind him rustled thunderously.

"My oh my oh, ain't that kid a smart un?"

The pair whirled around and tensed as a short, spindly old man leapt from the tree and landed lightly on his feet. It was almost disconcerting to see someone so grey and weathered do something so athletic. The old man smiled and cackled, and despite the dim light, they could see his grinning mouth revealing a lot of missing teeth.

"What's the matter, boys? Never seen an old raisin like me jump from a big ol' tree like this un?" He cackled again. It was an arrogant sound, and Cyrano didn't like it. He did, however, look like a raisin, like the old man said. A skinny, creepy raisin.

The man laughed and laughed until he had to wipe his grimy sleeve across his eyes. "Ahhhh, I ain't seen such shocked young un's in so long. I'd forgotten how knee slappin' funny it is." He stopped laughing and stared intently at the boys. "So what're you kiddos doin' chasing after that no-good lot?"

It took a few seconds for Cyrano to find his voice. "They took away my sister," he said, trying to sound bold.

"Ahhh yes..." Raisin Man began to walk towards him. Freyr stood very still by his side, ever the non-confrontational one, but he was tense, ready to jump to Cyrano's aid if need be. Soon the stranger was about three feet away from them. He leaned forward and squinted at Cyrano, as if inspecting him very closely. Cyrano tried to hold his breath, as the man smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks.

"Hmph! Looking for your sister indeed," Raisin Man scoffed. "Well guess what, young un', I saw 'er all right."

"You did?" Cyrano asked, surprised. "But how do you know?"

He snickered and tapped his face. "Got the same nose and the same determined look in yore eyes. She was easy to spot, matter o' fact, 'cause she was quite a fighter, and she in't the only one fightin' in that group of muggers. I saw her strugglin' and bitin' an' twisting. And boy don't she got one biggy of a shocker, eh? Managed to fry one guy until someone decided to send her to dreamland. Twas one o' the other prisoners who did that, actually."

Cyrano struggled to find words as his thoughts twisted up in his head. Ida was fighting - she was using her Thundershock - still captured - someone put her to sleep - is she hurt -

He heard Freyr speak, his voice soft and husky. "Why didn't you do anything?"

Raisin Man shrugged. "It was one 'gainst fifty of em, kid," he said gruffly. "An' anyhoo, I wouldn't 'ave been able to do a thing. They gots an Abra kid with them. They used him to teleport all of them in groups."

So that's how they managed to teleport out of thin air. "Where? Where were they teleported?" Cyrano demanded.

"Bah, loud boy. How should I know which direction they went in? They coulda gone left or right or up or down!" He snorted out a laugh. "But that kid ain't a master teleporter. 'E couldn't have gotten far, warping a flippin' army mob o' men and kids. Furthest they could have gone would be five kilometers at best."

Freyr grabbed Cyrano's shoulder. "Then my best bet is that they gave themselves a boost," he said. "Amicitia City is just a kilometer away, I believe. They probably teleported to the other side, and then kept going from there until their Abra anima is able to recover."

"Okay, I trust you," Cyrano sighed. He turned to the Raisin Man and forced a smile.

"Um, thank you for providing us with the information we needed."

The old man gave one last whooping cackle, which ended in some gross hacking. Cyrano and Freyr leapt backwards. "Gahaha! You kids are so reckless these days," he was saying while wiping more laughter tears from his eyes. "Hope ye find your sis, kiddo. Even though you'll probably just give up along the way. Adventurin' ain't easy!"

He snapped his fingers, and in a sudden and brief burst of light and colour, he was gone. Cyrano and Freyr stared at the empty air where Raisin Man had just been, hearing the echoes of his lasting laughter fade into the forest air.

Cyrano blinked rapidly. "He's gone," he said, stunned. "He just teleported away."

"He must have been an Abra anima himself," Freyr murmured. "I thought I got a Psychic-type vibe from him. Maybe that's how he knew where they went."

"Maybe..." Cyrano turned and found the wheel-pocked dirt marks again. "Let's go, Freyr."

They set off.

Ooooh! I wonder who that mysterious person in the beginning of the chapter was~? It will all be revealed in time, my audience. I'm hoping to pick up speed with this story soon! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed reading. Any reviews left are greatly appreciated!