[6:32 AM. Mt. Silver Footpath. Mt. Silver. The next morning.]
Ian stretched out his weary body in the light of the dawn. Moira still slept clutching her new ball to her chest. Carrde sat at the edge of an overhang where a small stream trickled precariously over the edge. He hadn't slept.
"What do you know about this place, Ian?"
Ian took a seat next to Carrde on the ledge. The sun tiptoed over the horizon and bathed the mountain glen in rapturous vermillion a billion years young. The forest below was coming to life.
"Not much—just that everyone seems fascinated by it."
Carrde took a twig between his fingers and snapped it. "You grow up around here and you just can't ignore it. They say a legendary pokemon makes this place its home."
The cool morning breeze kissed at Ian's cheeks. Moira made a noise somewhere between a yawn and a growl and rolled over in her sleep. "I thought you said you were born and raised in Celadon?"
"I was. Mom was from Blackthorn, though. Lots of family trips up here. She never liked moving for work, and she was never happy in Celadon."
Ian felt his stomach tighten at the mention of Celadon. Carrde would have to find out eventually, but Ian hoped it would not be he who broke the news to him.
"So what is it you two kids plan on doing after we part ways, seeing as how you all helped me out?" Carrde asked.
Ian knew what they were supposed to do, but he also knew what Moira would do, and he knew which one of them was the more vocal. He didn't think they had enough supplies or skill to summit the mountain. Moira would obviously think otherwise.
"I guess y'all intend to conquer this peak, right? An admirable goal."
"You're welcome to tag along, if you'd like," Ian offered. The man pulled a cigarette from a small metal case. He lit it, exhaled softly, and sighed against the sky. The smoke smelled sweet, unlike the acrid smoke of Werner's cigars.
"I'm gonna make some coffee, you want some?"
Ian nodded. Carrde stood and pat him on the shoulder as he walked back to camp. Ian turned and watched the Ranger whistle his way over to the camp. He had Dusknoir start the fire and began making his coffee. The smell of the roasting beans roused Moira from her sleep. She yawned and stretched. "Morning, Roland," she said.
He gave her a wave with his free hand as he took a long, contemplative drag from his cigarette. "Morning, missy. Coffee's brewing. Ian's over yonder on the cliff."
Ian watched her walk towards him. She was a bit off-center from sleep; he found it adorable. She sat down next to him, dangling her thin legs over the edge of the cliff. "Pretty sunrise," she said.
"You too," he said absentmindedly. Moira giggled as he realized what he had said.
"Thank you, Ian."
He felt his cheeks redden and turned away. Carrde walked over and handed a small thermos of coffee to each of the two. "It's not what they serve back home, but for the trail, it's pretty good. Hope you like your coffee black." He sat down in between Moira and Ian and took a long sip from his thermos. He lit a second cigarette and offered the case to Ian. Making a rash decision based on impulse, he took a hand rolled cigarette and lit it. He took an uncharacteristically long drag. The smoke burned his mouth and he hacked violently, spitting over the edge. He tossed the cigarette over the edge while Moira and Carrde laughed. He tried to wash the taste out with coffee.
"No need to go impressing anyone, partner," Carrde said. He chuckled into his thermos. Ian caught a glance of Moira snickering as she sipped her coffee. The coffee was too bitter to wash the acrid taste of smoke from his mouth, but he drank it regardless. His head was beginning to reel.
"I wasn't…" Ian began to say.
"Suppose you two'll be heading on up now, eh?" Carrde said. Moira looked to Ian. "I'd like to try and find out what might've attacked Ursaring."
Carrde shook his head. "Looked like Fearow marks to me. Maybe she got too near a nest; those things'll rip you to shreds if you take 'em lightly."
"No," Ian said flatly, "Those wounds were too big for a single Fearow strike. We get people and pokemon admitted to the Vermillion Hospital all the time from Fearow attacks, and they're never that bad. Something else did that. A Fearow wouldn't pick a fight with an Ursaring either; they're too big—maybe a dive bomb here or there, but they'd never get low enough to where the Ursaring could pin them down."
Carrde let out a low whistle. "Kid knows his Fearows. All I can say is that I've spent a good bit of my life around this mountain, and there's nothing much that could put a dent on that Ursaring like that. Whatever it is, I'd advise you leave it well enough alone. Best let sleeping Herdier lie."
"Well whatever it is, it might still be out there. Isn't it your job to find out?" Moira asked the two Rangers.
"It's not my job till some paper-pusher in Viridian says it's my job. I gotta get on back down anyway; let the farmers and shepherds know the coast is clear."
"But it's not clear! Whatever attacked Ursaring could attack them too!"
Carrde chuckled. "You wanna go tackle your boogeyman, be my guest. Me? I'm going down to Viridian, punching my clock, and taking a nice hot shower."
Moira crossed her arms like a defeated child. "What Mo is trying to say, Carrde, is that we'd like you to come with us. I think we'd both feel better if we had someone who knew the area as well as you do with us."
"Sorry, friend. This train's rolling to the station. Maybe our paths will cross again. Look me up in Viridian on your way down and we'll grab a drink."
After they had said their goodbyes and parted ways, Ian and Moira began their ascent again. Periodically, Moira would stop and release her Ursaring, treating its wounds. The Ursaring would glare at her as she applied salves and ointment to the festering wounds, but she would not attack. The wounds were not bloody; they seemed horrifically cauterized, but thoroughly infected.
"Only a Drapion could inflict a wound like that, and there are no Drapion on Mt. Silver," Ian observed.
"That doesn't explain the cauterization," Moira replied.
They kept walking; Ian did not think that even Moira knew where they were going. He knew she wanted to get to the top, but she seemed incredibly distracted by the plight of her Ursaring. Afternoon turned to evening in a transition of molten palettes. They stopped near a stream to rest and refill their canteens. The brook reflected the colors of the sky in a softly trickling painting of reds and purples. Ian splashed the cool water on his face.
Moira sat on a stone by the brook. She had released her pokemon to relax in the fading light. Her Charizard lazed in the shade of the trees, and her Starmie splashed in the crystal water. Ursaring stood at the edge of the brook, looking at her reflection, never breaking eye contact with the bear that looked back up at her.
Ian felt the wind pick up, and with it, the temperature rose dramatically. He found he needed to remove his scarf and coat to cool down. Moira looked confused. "Some weather we're having, huh?"
Ian took a drink from the brook. The Ursaring gave a warning growl as his hands disturbed the pristine reflection. He took the warning in stride and wiped the water from his lips. "Alright, alright. I got it," he said.
The Ursaring focused on the reflection. Moira walked over and put a hand on her. Normally she would recoil from her touch, but now the bear did not react. "Ursaring?" Moira asked." The sound of a bird echoed across the mountain.
It happened in a flash; Ursaring dove into Moira, knocking her back. Moira gasped and Ian released his Electivire in an attempt to subdue the bear. Ursaring roared as the screeching of the bird grew louder; it had happened in the blink of an eye—a massive pair of talon marks scarred the ground where Moira and Ursaring had stood not a moment before. Ian and Electivire scanned the sky. The cawing seemed to come from the sun itself. Ursaring reacted first. She dove into the water and leapt into the air, hurling the water in front of her. There was a titanic crash as the Ursaring impacted the ground. Moira rushed to her aid. The cawing turned to screeching, and the bird passed out of the glare of the sun. It was a massive bird, its feather burning the flames of the sun. It shot a jet of fire into the air in triumph.
"What is that thing?" Moira cried.
They say a legendary pokemon makes this place its home.
The bird perched on the cliff face, and a young man stepped forward. He was tall, yet built, all lean muscle. His dark hair was tied back in a traditional top knot. He wore red hemmed white robes and a sword hung at the side of his belt.
"Santiago!" Ian called out.
The man tilted his head. "If you were anyone else I might consider that an insult." The bird screeched. The man put his hand onto the fire of the birds wings as easily as if they were weaved from cloth. "You may call me Odan, heir to the Sage of Fire," Odan smiled and threw off his cloack, revealing the scarred muscle underneath. "And this is my mountain."