Chapter 4

Battle

Within a canyon on the path to Karprest, Squirtle trembled in fear as the wild Zigzagoon approached him.

The Zigzagoon slowed down just before it reached Squirtle, as if testing its opponent's reaction. Squirtle took a step backward and raised his arms to ward off the Zigzagoon. The Zigzagoon darted forward and threw its body toward Squirtle. As it hurtled toward him, Squirtle half-twisted and half-fell to the side, pressing his shell back against the canyon wall. He was unable to fully evade the tackle, which caught him and sent him spinning to the ground. Small rocks that his shell had scraped off the wall clattered down upon him, making drum-like TOK! sounds when they struck his shell. Squirtle was on his feet again immediately, but he felt even less steady than before.

Now the Zigzagoon was between Quil and Squirtle. Quil slowly backpedaled on all fours. Soon he would be cornered against the rocks. The Zigzagoon looked between the pair with an appraising eye. It appeared to come to a decision, as it turned its back on Squirtle to face Quil fully. Both were immobile for a moment, then moved at the same time.

Each jumped forward, aiming to knock the other over. They met full on, and rebounded back to their feet. Squirtle wondered at a Pokémon's toughness, to be able to withstand a full-body tackle without having to worry about permanent damage. He stood there as if rooted, watching the battle and hoping fervently for Quil to triumph.

Quil seemed so different to Squirtle in this situation. The little Cyndaquil was tense and lively as he focused on his opponent. This was not the quiet, friendly companion who traveled with Squirtle, but a dangerous beast protecting itself, like a hidden identity had clawed itself out of the dark corners of Quil's mind and asserted itself in his body. Quil was embracing his instincts, his natural fighting spirit. Quil surely had plenty of battle experience to draw on, too.

Again, the Cyndaquil and Zigzagoon faced each other, preparing to clash. As Quil charged forward, the Zigzagoon scuttled backward. Then, it leaped not at Quil, but at the hard wall of the canyon. Quil stopped, surprised by his opponent's tactic. The Zigzagoon caught a rough patch of rock on the wall with his hind paws for only a fraction of a second before redirecting his momentum downward at Quil. Quil had pulled up short at the unexpected maneuver, and took the blow as he reared back to retreat. The Zigzagoon's weight slammed down on the Cyndaquil, driving both to the ground in a heap. Quil yelped as his breath was driven out.

"Quil!" shouted Squirtle. Behind the panic occupying his mind, he knew he needed to help Quil, to attack the Zigzagoon, to do something. But he didn't know how, didn't know the first thing about battling. He felt both antsy and scared stiff at the same time, enlivened and uncertain. Maybe he could...slam the Zigzagoon with his shell? He wouldn't hurt himself that way, right? His shell was up to the task. Or he could try to headbutt the Zigzagoon when it was distracted...?

Meanwhile, Quil gathered himself up and rolled violently, pushing the Zigzagoon off of his belly. But as soon as Quil had recovered, the Zigzagoon was in his face once more. This time, it crouched low, compressed itself like a spring, then loosed all of its forward energy in the form of a mighty headbutt. Its neck extended, it powered its brown head into Quil's belly from below. He was launched into the air, dislodged some shale from the wall, and landed roughly on the ground by the barrier of large rocks.

The battle was turned in favor of the Zigzagoon. Squirtle knew the wild Pokémon was going to knock out Quil, or worse, unless he joined the fight. The initial frightening shock of the Zigzagoon's attack had worn off.

He felt like he could, and should make his move. But how? He felt like the spectator of a sport or game for which he did not know the rules. And now the players were calling for him to join, but he did not know how to play. Besides, how could he hope to make a difference when he had not even mastered walking?

"Squirtle!" Quil called out to him from beyond the Zigzagoon. "You have to do something! Please!" His voice sounded pained, and disoriented. Evidently Quil thought it was worth it to spend his efforts on calling out to Squirtle, instead of focusing entirely on his opponent. That meant Squirtle was his only hope, or he would not have used his precious breath and concentration on words. Squirtle drew in a big breath as quickly as he could, then let it out as he crept forward to close the distance between him and the Zigzagoon.

Now the Zigzagoon was trying to harass Quil from every angle it could. It tried to strike from the extreme left, then side stepped to the other wall, and struck out from the far right. Each time, Quil relinquished his ground. Finally, Quil bumped into a boulder at the rock-slide's edge, and yelped again as his feet slid out from beneath him on the loose gravel. Seizing the opportunity, the Zigzagoon aimed a full on tackle at Quil.

Quick as a whip, Quil curled up and squeezed backward into the tight space between the bulging boulder and the dirt ground. The Zigzagoon struck the body of the boulder and stumbled back, shaking its head. It voiced its frustration with a feral growl, and tried to scratch at Quil's curled up body. But Quil squirmed further into the space, pushing out the loose gravel to make room for his small body. The fire burning on Quil's back was mostly smothered by the close quarters, but some small jets of flame escaped the nook to provide some cover from the Zigzagoon's attacks.

Part of Squirtle ached to fight, to release his panic and pent-up energy in a flurry of motion. The other part thought the first part was crazy, and demanded to immediately flee. But this was his time to pay back Quil, to prove that he wasn't dead weight! He stood as close to the distracted Zigzagoon as he dared.

If he was going to launch an attack, now would be a great time. But what would he do? Just...run into the Zigzagoon, shell back-first? Or punch it with his little arm? All of his options seemed very foolish compared to the beastly ferocity of the fight he was witnessing.

Maybe...maybe he was thinking about it all the wrong way!

"Squirtle!" Quil squeaked, as the Zigzagoon struggled to roll the boulder aside. "Do something! Don't think about it, just do it! Hurry!"

Of course! Squirtle quashed all the plans and strategies fermenting in his mind. For the first time since waking, he strived to forget about his thoughts. To just let go. No method. No complexity. Squirtle closed his eyes as he tried to shrug free of his top-down ways of thinking. He had to think about it from the ground up: body, then mind. This time, it would be act first, think later.

He opened his eyes. The Zigzagoon was digging away at the small rocks protecting Quil. Squirtle had to stop the Zigzagoon, now! He stepped forward, and shouted forcefully at the Zigzagoon's back. He meant to aggressively say "Hey!", but what issued out was a wordless snarl. The wild Pokémon jerked around to face the noise. Squirtle waved his tail back and forth above him like a flag. His posture felt new to him as he did so, and he noticed his hands were on the ground. The position felt natural. Squirtle banished these thoughts as soon as he became aware of them. Thinking was the enemy.

The flashy motion snared the Zigzagoon's attention. It left Quil, choosing instead to approach Squirtle cautiously. The waving of his tail appeared to have a nearly hypnotic effect upon the Pokémon. It seemed less wary, but definitely still hostile. The Zigzagoon bared its teeth to Squirtle as it stepped toward him.

Why was he waving his tail? Squirtle almost stopped the motion, but knew the distraction was working. He hadn't planned it, so it must have been an instinctual response. Squirtle tried to forget about what he was doing, and lose himself in the moment again, but his fear began to boil. The Zigzagoon neared striking range.

This isn't what I want! Leave me alone! His thoughts were racing. He couldn't help it.

The Zigzagoon's eyes widened as it heard movement upon the path behind it, but a second too late. Quil hit it with a surprise attack from behind with a loud grunt. Squirtle stumbled backwards as the flailing Zigzagoon skidded to a stop a few feet in front of him.

Slowly, its paws found the ground, and it began to stand. No, Squirtle thought, stay down! Quil was still recovering from his attack, his fur coated in rock dust. Squirtle had to act now, before the Zigzagoon could keep on fighting.

With a shout, Squirtle finally closed the distance. He didn't know what he was going to do in that moment, and that lack of forethought aided him. His body seemed to naturally take a full-on tackling position. Squirtle's feet pushed off the ground. His arms where thrown back to his sides. His eyes squeezed shut at the last moment.

Squirtle's forehead struck the Zigzagoon's flank with all of his weight behind it. The Zigzagoon was knocked away and rolled over twice from the impact.

Quil cheered for him weakly from the other side of the Zigzagoon. "Yeah, Squirtle! Great tackle!" The acoustics of the canyon permitted Squirtle to easily hear his words, despite their softness.

This time, the Zigzagoon did not stand up immediately. Its eyes were half-lidded as it struggled to its feet. Its brown and white striped tail drooped as much as its tongue drooped from its panting mouth. The Pokémon, evidently, had lost all interest in fighting, since it dragged itself to the side of the path and studiously ignored the two travelers.

Squirtle stood up from where he had landed after his tackle. He felt exhilarated, and ready to keep moving. Yet the Zigzagoon had had it. The battle was over. And they had...won? They had won! He helped! He and Quil had defeated the Zigzagoon! Squirtle jumped into the air wearing a broad grin.

"All right! We did it!" He shouted to Quil, not caring that his defeated foe was sitting right in front of him. Quil responded in kind, albeit with less energy.

When the cheers stopped, Quil did something Squirtle found very interesting. Quil faced the Zigzagoon and inclined his head. It implied appreciation, or respect.

What really surprised Squirtle was that the Zigzagoon responded. It gave a head bob. Then, it rotated its head toward Squirtle and gave another short nod. Squirtle was taken aback, unsure of how to respond. The Zigzagoon had already stopped paying attention though. It returned to sullenly recuperating.

Quil strode toward Squirtle, not missing a beat as he sidled past the Zigzagoon in the cramped canyon space. Was he not worried that the Zigzagoon would lash out? It was a wild Pokémon. Again, Squirtle felt like he was playing in a game without knowing the rules. He had to be missing something. That was nothing new though.

"Want to get out of here, Squirtle?" Quil prompted.

Squirtle felt confused, but nodded, and they headed out of the canyon at last.

The path widened, taking the pair out into the spacious and relatively bright countryside once more. The air felt warmer and smelled sweeter after the rocky canyon. The wind had all but died, and the cloud cover had reduced to the point where one could see the individual clouds overlapping instead of a formless shroud. Karprest was visible as they left the canyon. Now they were close. Good thing, too, as the darkening sky suggested the sun was close to setting.

Squirtle was beaming once more. "We did it Quil! We beat the Zigzagoon!"

Quil laughed quietly. "It took you quite a while, but yeah, we won!"

"Sorry. I didn't know what to do, how to fight. I wanted to help you the whole time, really! But I couldn't figure out my approach." Squirtle gave a chuckle of his own. "Sounds silly, right?"

"Well...yes. That's strange, not knowing how to fight. The distraction was perfect though! So thanks." Quil smiled at him.

Squirtle nodded, highly pleased with himself. He had been integral to their success, even if Quil had done all the work, and taken all the hits. Squirtle felt elated. He didn't see himself as the type that relished physical conflict, so this inner satisfaction he felt was surprising. The feeling was more than satisfaction, though, it was an inner fire. The thrill he felt as he finally engaged the Zigzagoon left a lasting impression. Over and over, Squirtle relived the feeling of rushing forward, driving into his opponent, and standing up, victorious. Squirtle basked in the sensation, content. He wanted to battle again and keep the fire alive.

With ferocity in his eyes, his mind relived the other moments of the battle, bringing the fear along with them. He recalled the helplessness, the terror of seeing a Pokémon running toward him with violent intent in its eyes. And that was just a Zigzagoon. How in the world would he be able to summon an ounce of courage in the face of a bigger, scarier Pokémon? Maybe he didn't want to experience another battle after all.

I guess I've got a long way to go before I'm not...a coward.

However, Squirtle had been able to forget his fear. All he needed was to blank his mind, and let his natural impulses run unchecked. If he could become well-practiced in letting go, he wouldn't need to be courageous or confident.

"Quil, do you think when you fight? Or do you just go with the flow?"

"Huh? Go with the flow?" Quil's voice was bemused.

I'm an idiot, thought Squirtle. I sound like an alien to him. "It's an expression. When you go with the flow, you just go along with whatever is happening at the time, and don't resist it."

"Hm. I think I get it. Your home must be far away, Squirtle, if they have expressions like that. I've never heard of it before, not once." He paused thoughtfully. "Around Steady Steppe, where I live, and probably everywhere else on that side of Root Forest, we say, 'Your head thinks, your gut knows.' I don't think much about what I'm doing in a battle. Besides, it's almost impossible to think straight, isn't it?"

Squirtle nodded his agreement. Here, the land had leveled out from its descent. Hills and cliffs abounded still, but the general elevation decline had finished, as the path neared the river.

Quil continued, "I don't think there's anything brainy or complicated about it. Pokémon are meant to battle. I often wish that we weren't, but that's how it is." Quil froze for a moment, as if he had said something he had not meant to. "Er, what I meant is, battling is grueling work, and sometimes you just want to relax or not worry about getting stronger, right? Don't you think so, Squirtle?"

Just like that, the Cyndaquil seemed to be pleading with him. Squirtle fumbled for words before managing to say, "Yes, sometimes."

Quil bobbed his head, turning back to the road ahead. "Okay, great. You know, you're a great listener Squirtle. I feel like I could talk and talk all day to you. Please, let me know if I'm ever annoying you!"

I listen because my mental landscape is a wasteland, and you're planting seeds, thought Squirtle. I need the knowledge that you have.

"You're not Quil, you're not," Squirtle replied.

The Squirtle and Cyndaquil turned the final bend in the path and beheld the first structures of Karprest. The small village, if that is what Karprest was, could be crossed on foot in maybe five minutes. The buildings, built of wood, stood upon foundations that kept them well above the ground. Each was but a single story, and mostly unadorned. No signs swung in the breeze, and no writing was inscribed into the wooden boards.

Next to the closest building to the pair, a metal arrow lay in the dirt – a fallen wind vane. Torn grasses were still wrapped around the base from where the storm had ripped it out of the roof. The fallen vane was not the only sign of recent damage to the buildings. Squirtle spotted a cracked flowerpot on the front steps to one home, its precious soil spilled. A miniature garden on the side of another house had been stripped bare by the storm, leaving only packed soil and scattered petals of many hues. The red color of a couple of broken berries jumped out amid the desolation of the garden.

The road widened out and all but faded away as it led toward the center of Karprest. The village did not seem to have a central road, or even true streets or alleys. The buildings were placed as if their builders had decided to construct the next one wherever was convenient at the time. As such, the village had a natural feel to it. Karprest was adapted to the natural features of the landscape, not the other way around. It sprawled out by the river's edge, like a herd of wild Tauros resting for a drink.

A Lotad hurried across the path in the distance, closer to the river. Other than that, the only Pokémon in sight was a Cubone. Its short tail swung to and fro as it busied itself by the broadest wall of a building near to Squirtle and Quil.

The pair walked slowly into town, turning their heads about and taking in the sights. Turning, the Cubone's eyes lit upon them.

"Hey, you two. Help me for a minute?" His voice was gruff, and coarse like sandpaper.

Quil and Squirtle shared a glance. The Cyndaquil said nothing, so Squirtle spoke up after a moment's hesitation. "Sure. What do you need?"

"C'mere. It's simple." The Cubone set his bone leaning against the wooden wall. A couple of crude metal nails stuck out of the wood where the Cubone had not yet hammered them in with his bone. He switched tasks, pulling on the edge of the grass roof covering.

"Pull the weave down as much as you can," instructed the Cubone. "Hold tension."

Squirtle gripped the grass weave with his tiny fingers and claws, pulling it down as much as it would easily go. "Like this?"

The Cubone grunted an affirmative to Squirtle's question. He threaded a rope of reed fibers through the grassy roof weave, before deftly pulling it downward and tying it around a wooden shaft partway down the wall. Quil craned his neck to follow the Cubone's expert movements. The Cubone rotated the shaft, tightening the reed rope. Squirtle felt the rope take over his job as tension-bearer once the Cubone finished.

The Cubone grunted again as he took a step back and appraised his work. The grunt could have been a pleased grunt, a satisfied grunt, an indifferent grunt, or a few other types of grunt, but Squirtle could not tell due to the warlike skull covering the Cubone's face. With his facial expression hidden, the Cubone looked quite intense. The dark eyes and angular spikes of his body and skull helmet supported the fierce image.

"That'll do." He turned to Squirtle. "Much obliged, Squirtle. My partner is away on one of his...'training excursions' today of all days." His eyes narrowed. "I've been short-handed when Karprest needs repairs the most."

Quil was not forthcoming with any conversation, so Squirtle replied, "Ah, so you're a builder, a carpenter?"

"Mm. I specialize in the foundation. Keep Karprest dry when the river floods. Those storm winds didn't knock down any of my buildings, thankfully. Still wish my Machoke was here though. He'd have been a great help." The Cubone hammered in a couple of nails into the wall near the mechanism with the blunt end of his bone.

THOCK! THOCK! THOCK!

"You two travelers then? Where from?" He said, still focused on his work.

Quil and Squirtle shared another look.

"We're from Steady Steppe," said Quil. "Way west. The storm sure was dreadful! No rain, though. Did it rain here?"

"No. Just felt like a thousand Fearow beating the air at us. Lightning, too. Started more than one fire, but we don't have problems with fire in Karprest. Plenty of Wets live here, or nearby. I'm Bein, by the way."

Wets? Squirtle thought. Is that how Pokémon refer to Water-types, or Pokémon that can use water-based moves?

"I'm Quil!" chirped the Cyndaquil. In response, the Cubone halted his bone's repetitive hammering motion mid-swing. He turned from the wall and jabbed his skull-clad head forward at Quil, who met the attack with a little headbutt of his own. The two did not seem to have put much muscle into their motions, so they collided and then easily pushed away from each other. They both turned to Squirtle expectantly, as if their odd ritual was the most normal thing in the world.

"Uh...I'm Squirtle."

Bein the Cubone took a step and jabbed his head forward again. Squirtle crouched low and rammed his own head to meet the attack, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for the worst. He now had proof that Pokémon were remarkably durable, and his own body did not seem to instinctively reject what he was making it do, but Squirtle still felt in some part of his mind the fear of an impending concussion. How could smashing two skulls together ever turn out okay?

His head thudded into the Cubone's. His momentum stopped abruptly, and he was knocked slightly backward. He had underestimated the enthusiasm that Pokémon put into their greeting, he realized, as he tried to keep his balance, but failed. Like a tree that groans and splinters at the base as the final ax-blow is dealt, Squirtle slowly tipped backwards from his heels and fell disgracefully to the ground.

A dull spike of pain lanced up his spine from his tail. The limb had been caught between the dirt and his shell. Fortunately, he managed to strangle his outcry into a sharp intake of breath.

He was back on his feet in front of the Cubone a moment later, but he could not meet the other Pokémon's eyes. Squirtle had failed the greeting, if that was even possible. He imagined that being unable to match the other Pokémon's attack during the ritual would be a cause for great shame. That raised a whole host of questions in his mind: what if an Onix was meeting a Butterfree? What if a Gastly was being headbutted by a Pokémon with a physical form? Yet more questions I cannot ask without sounding completely like an outsider, thought Squirtle.

"Sorry," the Cubone said. He didn't sound it. "You weren't ready, were you?"

Interesting. Despite his unapologetic tone, Bein was offering a way for Squirtle to recover his dignity. He'd best make the most of the Cubone's gesture.

"Er, no, I wasn't! I was looking at your handiwork. It's not your fault though." Squirtle cringed inwardly. His acting skills had room for development. Quil's gaze seemed downcast, avoiding the awkward exchange.

Bein turned back to his work. The last nail was hammered into place.

"Getting too dark to see. But this one should stand at least until it storms again," he said, patting the wood fondly. "You two looking for a place to sleep through the night? I can show you if you'd like."

Quil started. "You mean...like a spare burrow?"

Bein snorted in amusement. "More like a great, big, communal burrow. You haven't seen much outside the wilds." It was not a question. "Swanna runs our lodge on the river. Tricky design to the architecture, it's worth seeing. You can sleep until morning there, no problem. Interested?"

Quil and Squirtle looked at each other. Quil's face was curious, eager. He appeared to easily trust the Cubone, and maybe he wanted to learn more about the lodge. Squirtle's face was calculating, a slight frown playing about his hard lips. A 'great, big, communal burrow' filled with strangers - no, strange Pokémon – was not where he wanted to spend the night. Yet what was the alternative? Sleeping under a tree somewhere?

Bein may have been deceiving them, however. What reason did he have to help two travelers? The brief assistance Squirtle had lent in the Cubone's repairs was hardly a service that mandated repayment. So was the Cubone actually being a kind and helpful soul? He was obviously not the warm and fuzzy type. Not like Quil, whom Squirtle had finally decided to trust those hours ago. And, he admitted, that turned out quite fortunately for Squirtle. Maybe Pokémon were, overall, benevolent creatures. Reluctantly, he gave Quil a slight nod.

"That'd be great, Bein!" Quil exclaimed. "You're a big help. How can we repay you?"

The Cubone led the way further into town. "Eh, that's not needed. You aren't today's first newcomers to Karprest, not at all." He glanced at the Squirtle and Cyndaquil's intrigued expressions. "You will see what I mean. Today has been an unusual day."

The sun fell behind the many hills toward Root Forest, silhouetting them so they looked like featureless sand dunes. Karprest did not grow intimidating or oppressive in the face of the coming night, but placid and protective. In fact, the more Squirtle walked through it, the more he felt the small-town mood of the place.

He caught pieces of conversation drifting out of windows. Some voices he heard were melodic and spirited, others a steady baritone, but they all sounded calm, at peace. Through one open doorway, Squirtle spotted an Azumarill making dramatic motions with its arms to a small audience of seated Pokémon, most of them Marill. As the Azumarill told the story, they gasped in horror one moment, but not ten seconds later laughed in glee.

Not all of the doors led to dwellings. Squirtle smelled a sweet, fruity scent as they passed the steps leading to one of the larger structures. Inside he caught a glimpse of colorful fruits on shelves and counter-tops before a Pokémon gently closed the door with a nudge of its head. Squirtle didn't recognize it. It was large, brown and green, and quadrupedal, with yellow banana-like growths hanging beneath a kindly face. The Pokémon tended the building, then, which must be a shop or grocery of some kind.

Underlying the peace there was an undercurrent of fear. Squirtle could see it in the way the village operated. The Azumarill was distracting young Pokémon with stories, not ushering them indoors from their play outside as dusk fell. Very few Pokémon were outside in the first place. Those that lingered outdoors bee-lined to their destination. And the signs of damage by the storm were all around, just as they were at the entrance to Karprest. Residents weren't fixing up their village. They were inside, leaving behind a tense stillness in the air.

A clearing marked the center of town, halfway to the river. Bein, Quil, and Squirtle heard voices raised in an argument before they reached the clearing. Quil and Squirtle looked to Bein, as he seemed unsurprised by the voices. The Cubone's eyes narrowed knowingly. He muttered a word under his breath, a name.

A Bibarel stood at the entrance to a typical house, one forepaw holding the door open. It looked like it was waiting to step inside and close the door, but a dark, feline Pokémon stood on the porch, engaging it in conversation. A Luxio. Other Pokémon in the nearby buildings watched the exchange from windows or through door cracks.

"And how does Karprest benefit from these refugees, exactly, Mayor Biba?" The Luxio drawled in a voice that was too loud for the Bibarel standing right next to him, but just loud enough to reach the other Pokémon in the clearing that were listening. "Perhaps you are privy to knowledge that I am not, due to your position."

The Bibarel, a female, replied evenly. "Karprest has always been a stopover for travelers, Stolt, and a center of trade for Pokémon who live in the wilds nearby. Why would we deny them shelter, when tonight they need us most? Your family has lived in these parts for longer than almost anyone's, so why should I have to explain this to you?"

The Luxio, Stolt, sniffed. "By that very point, you should hold my opinion higher than anyone else's. I don't think we should be housing refugees and exposing Karprest to who knows what sorts of Pokémon, with no thought to the consequences. And for free, no less! We could wake up tomorrow to find Swanna's lodge ransacked, or worse!"

The Luxio's tail-tip lashed in time with his raised voice, while the Bibarel's flat tail restlessly tapped the wooden floorboards. Both were anxious, but definitely for different reasons. What those were, Squirtle couldn't say.

Their tails display their emotions for all to see, thought Squirtle. Can't they still them? He turned his head to study his own tail. The blue whorl bobbed placidly above the ground behind him, just as it always had. Maybe I don't have an emotional tail.

"Today was unique," the Bibarel said. "No one could have predicted that terrible storm, and as such there were no laws or preparations to guide us in the chaos. I acted as best I could, and I stand by my decisions. I do not think anyone has found fault in the way the situation here was handled, except for you, Stolt."

The Luxio's lips drew back, and his throat rumbled deeply. He was growling to the Bibarel's face!

"I could run this place better than you. I understand what Karprest needs."

Mayor Biba, the Bibarel, was unfazed. Being on the receiving end of a growl was normal, or this was not the first time the Luxio had growled at her. Maybe both.

"I believe that despite the storm, today is a fine day for our town. Karprest chose me as Mayor, Stolt. It wasn't you who was chosen."

The Luxio's growling died down. He glared at the Bibarel for a moment longer, then turned and stole down the house's steps. He was not startled by the onlookers. His eyes lingered on Squirtle, and on Quil, who shrank back from the intense gaze.

"Pah!" he exclaimed. With head held high, he strode out of the clearing and vanished from sight.

Gradually, the faces of the Pokémon half-eavesdropping and half-spectating withdrew from sight. Mayor Biba slapped her tail against the floorboards of her home, like a resolute nod of the head, and closed the door behind her.

"Let's go," said Bein, as he started forward once more. Squirtle and Quil stepped forward hastily to keep pace.

"Hey Bein," began Quil. "That Luxio. Stolt. He won't... He isn't-"

"No," said Bein, predicting Quil's meaning. "Stolt's only attacks are his empty threats. Shouting matches between the Mayor and him are almost common. Although, they have been growing more common lately. Hm. Louder, too."

Squirtle was also concerned with the ambition of Stolt the Luxio. "The onlookers in these houses weren't happy with the public debate. They don't want Stolt to take over leadership, right?"

Bein grunted an affirmative. "No, we don't. Mayor Biba does a good job. She says she'll do something, and then she gets it done. No need for delaying or over-planning the job. I like her style. And she's handled well enough all the issues Karprest has had over the years. At least the days I've been here. I don't think today was an exception, but we'll have to see what tomorrow brings."

"I haven't seen how Mayor Biba runs Karprest," said Quil, "but I'd bet my left foot that Karprest would be empty in a month if Stolt were Mayor!" He chuckled somewhat savagely as a thought struck him. "After all, he doesn't even want any more Pokémon coming in. What kind of 'mon says that? Pokémon should be able to travel and stay where they please! Don't you think?"

Bein nodded, shifting the bone he carried to the opposite shoulder. "Couldn't agree more, Quil. The open road and life in the wilds are nothing to sneeze at, but having a fine home, or at least civilization to return to should not be denied to anyone." He spoke with finality, as if stating a widely-accepted fact.

"So, Bein," asked Quil. "Which are you? Do you live here, or out there?" He gestured broadly with his snout, indicating the vastness beyond Karprest.

"Me and my Machoke buddy, we're builders. We get a request from a 'mon, or a group, and we build something for them. Problem is, once that's done, there's nothing left for us there. So we travel. We build houses, but we can never use them ourselves for very long. Heh."

"Traveling's not...all that bad," said Quil half-heartedly. "Right, Squirtle?"

Squirtle hesitated. "Yes, you're right. I'd have to keep at it to form a strong opinion though. I'm not exactly a globe-trotter."

"Hm, globe-trotter. I like that," Bein remarked.

The abrupt appearance of flames on the group's left caused Squirtle and Quil to stop in surprise. The flames came from a Growlithe's open mouth, igniting a brazier. The stream of flames ended as the Growlithe closed its mouth, but the gentle light from the brazier remained. Quil gasped quietly, a sound of awe.

The Growlithe spoke to them in a bright and chipper voice. "Hi you newcomers, sorry to startle you! Hi Bein! Got to go, always trying to break my record!"

Before any of the three could even open their mouths, the Growlithe was bounding out of the torchlight and onto the next unlit brazier.

"That's Brao," explained Bein. "She lights up this place at night."

Squirtle noticed that Quil was still looking back, following the Growlithe, with something like longing on his face. Quil finally faced forward and continued walking with Bein and Squirtle. "What about the Pokémon who wake up at nightfall, and like the dark?"

"I know a Houndour, hates the way Karprest is always lit up. But, he's in the minority. Just like the rest of the nocturnal Pokémon that live around here. It's just a fact of life in Karprest that they have to put up with. You don't have to worry about darkness creeping in on you, though, do you Quil?"

He looked pointedly at the flames on Quil's back. With the coming of night, the fire was doubly noticeable. Curiously, the flames did not seem to give off as much light as Squirtle would expect. Compared to the lit brazier now behind them, the spiky flames were rather feeble in their illumination. The flames themselves were vivid and bright, but the features around the Cyndaquil were shadowy. The fire glowed, more than shone.

"Nope, I don't," agreed Quil. "Hey, is that the lodge?"

The three came to one of the largest wooden structures they had passed yet. The side facing them was broad, and two stories in its height. It had double doors big enough to accommodate larger Pokémon. Cattails and other riverbank plants grew thickly on either side of the lodge, waving in the light breeze, and the gurgles of gently flowing water indicated that they had reached the river. Yet the building seemed to stretch past the cattails and beyond, into the river.

Squirtle did not understand. "Bein, if we've reached the river, how far back can this lodge go?"

Bein's eyes creased slightly, suggesting a tiny smile behind his bony mask. He led Quil and Squirtle to the right, so they could see down along the side of the lodge, through the plants.

The building sloped downward at its back end, vanishing into the water.

"Swanna's lodge accommodates land-dwellers," Bein explained, "as well as Pokémon that live in water. This is one of my favorite works. The purpose of most construction I do around here is to escape the water. This one gives the water a big hug. You'll see, inside. But enough about the building. This is where I leave you. The day's been tough. Going to bed. Right now I'm living in that little house over there." He pointed with his bone club at one of the smaller buildings, away from the river. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, eh?"

Quil nodded. "Oh, well, thanks for showing us here, Bein!"

Squirtle, quite relieved to see there was no departure ritual involving attacking one another, said "Yes, thank you Bein. See you tomorrow, maybe."

"Sleep well," the Cubone said, then made his way toward the house he had pointed out.

Squirtle and Quil turned toward the lodge's doors, as night settled around them. Glancing skyward, Squirtle spotted the moon far above them. Tonight it was a slim crescent, and a comforting reminder that although Squirtle found himself in outlandish circumstances, this was still the world he lived in previously.

The Cyndaquil sighed contentedly. "We made it to Karprest, Squirtle. Are you about ready to sleep for the night? You were sleeping right before we bumped into each other in Root Forest, right? So I'm not sure how tired you are."

Squirtle folded his arms thoughtfully, a gesture he felt he often made in the past. His arms were now too short and too simple to sit the way they used to, but the position still worked.

Upon examination, he realized once again how energetic and tough his form as a Squirtle was. He felt like he could leap high into the air, or jog circles around Karprest. Aside from that latent energy to act, Squirtle sensed an undercurrent of fatigue. Though he may be able to perform physically just as well as when he had first woken, Squirtle felt a deeper tiredness beginning to grow, and a slight need to rest his mind.

"I could sleep, I think. And even if I can't, lying down in peace and quiet would do me well. I've got a lot to think about, that's all."

Quil studied him. "Okay, Squirtle," he said, concerned. "If you want to talk anything over, I'm all ears. I can stay awake!"

Squirtle smiled. "Thanks Quil. Let's go inside."