Chapter 7
Move
Squirtle was surprised to wake up.
His entire body ached with a fierce soreness, of course, but that was nothing like what he had expected. Squirtle had expected to feel nothing, because he had expected to die. Quil's body had knocked evolved Pokémon aside like pebbles due to the energy of Stolt the Luxio's attack. That same attack was then used on Squirtle, a Water-type. It was bound to be twice as strong – more than just effective, to say the least. From what he had witnessed in his brief travels, Squirtle had learned that Pokemon were resilient, but not this resilient.
Then again, his body felt demolished. He lay on his belly, all five limbs splayed out on the ground, seemingly lifeless. His slow breathing brought an uncomfortable tightness to his chest. When he clenched his fingers and toes, the muscles of his arms and legs complained of a soreness that felt like over-use. That's electricity for you, thought Squirtle, before wondering at his light mood.
Maybe this is what you feel like after a near-death experience. Care-free, relieved. I suppose I'll be more appreciative of living now that I've come so close to meeting my end. But did I really? Can Pokémon even die from another's attacks?
Again, he worked his claws, trying to wring the ache from his muscles. His claws made a small scratching noise that he barely heard. The ground felt grainy like old wood. Now he could feel the wooden boards beneath his skin, as the world returned to his awareness bit by bit. A feeling like the stroke of a dry paintbrush touched his cheek. His eyelids twitched, and creaked open.
His body lay on the porch of one of Karprest's many similar buildings. One of the wooden boards on the wall of the structure was cracked almost in half, and there was a gap in the railings of the porch's balustrade. Some object must have rocketed through the railings to create the gap, hit the wall hard, and fallen to where he was.
Oh. I'm the object. Squirtle was glad he had a shell for the ordeal.
Again, a touch on his cheek, followed by soft sounds that made little sense to Squirtle. Slowly, he sat up, squeezing his eyes closed against the pain. He pressed his head between his hands, trying to focus. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Quil beside him.
"Quil!" he tried to shout jubilantly, but it came out weakly. His Cyndaquil friend smiled in that particular way of his, and Squirtle was so thankful to be able to see it once more.
"I'm really glad to see you too, Squirtle," whispered Quil. "I only woke up myself a few minutes ago, but I found you quickly enough. We have to get moving though. Stolt is preoccupied talking to some other 'mon, but he'll notice us again soon if we don't Rapidash it out of here." He kept looking over his shoulder, toward the group of Pokémon still gathered at the same place.
Squirtle felt so relieved that he couldn't hold in a pained chuckle at Quil's use of 'Rapidash', joke or not. "I understand. Karprest is probably quite dangerous right now, if Stolt is usurping power. You're on a journey anyway, though, so it follows that we keep on moving."
"We're on a journey," whispered Quil, and grinned fiercely.
Squirtle got to his feet, finally feeling lucid, with the addition of full-body soreness. Like all of the buildings save the lodge that the pair had encountered in Karprest, this one was built on foundations that held it above the ground in order to prevent water damage during flood-time. They turned to the porch stairs to descend, but someone was in the way. A Nidorino was coming up the stairs, eyes flicking between Quil and Squirtle. The pair froze at the top. Quil even reflexively curled up into a fiery ball.
The Nidorino came to a halt on the last step, and spoke in a deep voice. "Listen up, you two. Stolt has ordered you removed from Karprest, and I'm the one in charge of seeing it done. So let's get moving."
Squirtle and Quil glanced at each other, with frowns on their faces. Quil uncurled and spoke first. He must have noticed that Squirtle was engrossed in his thoughts. He addressed the Nidorino in a quiet and polite manner.
"Okay, we'll go Nidorino, but I don't understand why you're taking orders from a 'mon like him. Isn't Biba the Bibarel the one who was elected to lead Karprest?"
The Nidorino snorted. "Yeah, 'course she is. She's always done a fine job, but everything's different now. Look over there Cyndaquil, and tell me what you see." He jerked his pointed horn at the gathering, where Stolt was leading a discussion of Pokémon with hunched shoulders and bowed heads.
"I see Stolt speaking with some 'mon over where...where he used his electricity on me. On you too, right Squirtle?" Squirtle nodded, sharing the same fear evident in Quil's voice.
"Yeah?" said the Nidorino. "Tell me about the Pokémon you see."
"Er...there's a Flaaffy, an Elekid, a Mightyena, a couple of Electrike, a Nuzleaf, a Nidoqueen. Wow, most of those Pokémon look tough! I think that's a Slowbro behind the Nidoqueen, and...maybe another-"
"Right, I get the point," the Nidorino interrupted. "Do you understand why I'm taking orders from Stolt yet?" Squirtle and Quil made room as the Nidorino took the last step and settled down on his belly. Even so, he still looked down slightly on Quil and Squirtle.
Quil shook his head uncertainly, but Squirtle cut in. "The strongest Pokémon in Karprest are all over there, talking with Stolt. He's recruited them, hasn't he? He's threatening them with his new power, isn't he?"
The Nidorino let a heavy sigh blow past his hard lips. "Now you're gettin' it."
Squirtle searched the scene from the safety of the shadowed porch. Why were those unevolved Electric Pokémon there among the evolved and seasoned-looking Pokémon? Stolt seemed to be treating them all as equals as he confidently spoke to them - equals all beneath him. Yet those Electrike, the Elekid, it didn't make sense. Unless they were far more powerful than they appeared.
"Oh, while you two were out, we discovered something." He paused significantly. Squirtle and Quil turned their attention to him. But before he could continue, Squirtle interrupted him.
"All the Electrics are more powerful. Not just Stolt. Right?"
Nidorino's surprised look was almost comical, but it did not compare to Quil's amazement. Quil even gasped softly.
"That's right," said the Nidorino slowly. "How'd you know that? It was Electric against Water back there – you were knocked right out."
Squirtle tried to shrug, and once again, found he could not. "The little Electric-types next to the assortment of big, evolved Pokémon; there had to be a reason."
"Heh, all you Alakazam out there, watch out," the Nidorino remarked. It took a couple of seconds for Squirtle to understand his meaning, but then he smiled momentarily at the compliment. Shooting a glance at Quil, Squirtle saw that his mouth was open absentmindedly. Probably, he was thinking about the implications of what Squirtle had said about the other Electric-types. Squirtle himself did not want to open that can of worms right then and there.
The Nidorino seemed content to lounge about and talk, even though he'd approached the pair to intimidate them and escort them out of Karprest. His attentive eyes and position blocking the stairs were the only indicators that they weren't having a friendly chat. Squirtle dared to ask a slightly more personal question.
"Um, Mister Nidorino, sir," he began.
The Nidorino was confused. "What? What did you call me?"
Slapping his hand to his face, Squirtle cursed himself again for his slip-ups of the tongue. "Nothing, it's just a way of showing respect where I'm from. What I mean is, Nidorino, why don't you leave Karprest? Or why don't you band together with some of the other Pokémon still loyal to Biba?"
"Yeah," added Quil, tentatively. "You could set things right! Although, it probably wouldn't be easy."
The Nidorino shook his head. "Stolt isn't just a bully, you two. You're...interlopers, as Stolt said. You wouldn't understand. You've only just arrived in Karprest." He turned his head and watched Stolt. Now the Luxio was pointing to and fro with his paws, and making other commanding gestures. A couple more of the gathered Pokémon trotted off to do his bidding. One of them saluted.
"Stolt isn't pushing Pokémon around because he can. He finally has the ability to enforce some changes around here. Changes he's always wanted to see. I can't blame the 'mon. His family has lived here for generations; you couldn't find a 'mon more loyal to Karprest. He's already mentioned some of the bigger changes he's planning – expanding the ferry service to other towns in the area, making Karprest a hub of activity."
He returned his gaze to Squirtle and Quil. "But he wants everyone unnecessary gone, right now."
With that, he got to his feet. The pair took a step back. Squirtle felt the cold tingling of fear begin in his belly. The Nidorino said, gruffly, "So let's get moving, unless you want some poison to make the process smoother."
Squirtle and Quil shook their heads quickly, and followed the Nidorino down the steps. Question time was over.
Squirtle rolled his arms and shook his legs as they walked, working out the ache that made him feel weak and unsteady. He glanced skyward, and noted the late morning sun on his left. The Nidorino was taking them south, parallel to the Karp river which ran north to south. With no geographical knowledge and no map to reference, Squirtle had no idea what lay ahead. He wondered how well Quil knew the land.
Some measure of fear compelled Squirtle to turn and walk backwards, so that he could keep his eyes on Stolt until they were safely away. He didn't want his back turned against a Pokémon that had knocked him unconscious with a single move, and who still despised his presence. The group around Stolt was gone, likely carrying out his orders. The Luxio himself, alone now, relaxed his posture. He looked around until his eyes fell on someone some distance away, past some bushes and a shop. Squirtle followed his gaze, and saw the Meowth that had sparked the whole confrontation. Keema.
Now conscious, she was speaking privately with a Chikorita and a Skitty. The Chikorita was chattering non-stop, shaking her head at the blackened fur on Keema's back. Squirtle couldn't hear what they were saying at such a distance. Keema looked almost as angry as the Chikorita. Squirtle returned his eyes to Stolt, and was surprised to see an expression of chagrin come over the Luxio. He seemed genuinely regretful.
So Stolt's reaction to injuring the Meowth was not an act. He was not entirely cold and calculating as Squirtle had presumed. Perhaps the transition of power was not all bad, if Stolt cared deeply about Karprest's denizens.
What am I saying? He blasted Quil and I just because we don't live here. And he did it with glee, almost as an experiment. Nothing could be worse than him taking charge.
Stolt noticed Squirtle's thoughtful stare at last, just before the Nidorino turned Quil and Squirtle around a corner. Stolt's guilty expression vanished, but no malice or anger replaced it. He returned Squirtle's look as if he were looking at a Weedle that he had plucked out of his apple. Something no longer worthy of his concern. Then the Luxio was out of sight. Squirtle faced his Nidorino escort once more, troubled.
Quil quietly walked to Squirtle's side, nudging him and pointing with his snout at a small house's window.
Inside, an Electabuzz was yelling and pacing the room, as a few other Pokémon looked on. These were not cringing in fear, though. These Pokémon were nodding, and adding shouts of their own, fueling the riotous mood. Squirtle caught pieces of the shouting when they grew particularly loud.
"...and he won't, he can't without everyone's cooperation..."
"...not the only Electric 'round here, he'll soon..."
"Tomorrow!"
"No, today! Tonight!"
The shouting continued. Some of the Pokémon in the house quieted when they noticed the three outside passing by, but the rest paid them no heed.
"Maybe Stolt won't last long," whispered Quil, carefully keeping his voice down, as he eyed the Nidorino's long ears.
Squirtle nodded, whispering back, "Who knows what'll happen in the next few days? Everything's changed now."
The three continued to pass by similar small groups of Karprest Pokémon. The mood in the town was tense, not relaxed like the previous day. No doubt everyone was considering the future, and what to do about Stolt's new rule.
"Nidorino, where did Stolt ask you to take any, er, unwanted Pokémon?" Squirtle asked.
"Southern edge of town. You can move on to wherever you like after that. I don't care, Stolt doesn't care. If you're not wilders, and you're looking for the next town, just keep the Karp on your left. You'll end up at Vyre."
"Oh, I've heard about Vyre!" Quil exclaimed. "They say there's more of Vyre in the treetops than on the ground. A town in the trees!"
The Nidorino grunted, amused by Quil's enthusiasm. "Yeah, that's right. A paradise for 'mon like Grovyle and Mankey, or Flyers, so I've heard. I'd take solid ground any day."
"Hmm...Vyre..." Quil droned. Then, he stopped short for a moment, his mouth a little 'O' of surprise. He started walking again right away, and the Nidorino didn't seem to notice. Squirtle, walking right next to him, did notice. He shot the Cyndaquil a questioning glance.
"We can't go to Vyre," Quil whispered. "That's the wrong way! I just remembered, we have to take the ferry. My father directed me to Karprest because of the ferry." His whisper deepened, almost mockingly, as he imitated his father. "It's the safest way for Flames like us to get across the Karp River."
Squirtle frowned, gauging the Nidorino's ability to pursue them if they ran. His legs were stout, tipped with dull claws, but his thick hide and rather heavy-set body probably kept him among the slower class of Pokémon. Then again, Squirtle had not seen him in action. And if Stolt had sought him out as muscle, the Nidorino was surely no slouch.
Was Squirtle actually considering a grand escape? He felt a cool chill run down his spine as he thought about being caught and subjected to Stolt's anger. He had only just become a Squirtle, and had little reason to believe he could outrun Nidorino. Plus he was still sore. Perhaps Quil could – he was swift back in Root Forest.
Squirtle decided he was not going to leave Quil. He owed Quil. For saving him, for teaching him, for showing trust and kindness to him. And if Squirtle was not going to stick with Quil, where would he go? He could not stay in Karprest, and he was loathe to travel alone. Convincing Quil to abandon the course outlined for him was out of the question, because it sounded like he really needed this ferry. Water must be terrifying to a Fire-type, a Flame, as Quil's father called them. Squirtle's face took on a determined cast, as it had just before the canyon when he resolved to pay Quil back. Squirtle was going to help Quil get to the ferry across the Karp river.
"Okay Quil," Squirtle whispered, as he followed the Nidorino. The spaces between the buildings were becoming wider; they were almost out of Karprest. He could see a well-trodden dirt path leading through the flat, swampy lands along the river. "Do you have a plan?"
"Not exactly," Quil murmured. "We could just slip away behind one of the houses while he thinks we're still following him. I don't think we should battle him, at any rate."
"Sounds good. How about this one coming up, with the barrels by the door?"
"Whew, okay Squirtle. Are you ready?"
"Oh, let me ask him something first. Maybe the sound of his own voice will cover up our escape."
Squirtle prepared a sufficiently thought-provoking question, then raised his voice. "Nidorino, what do you think is the future of Karprest? Where is all of this going?" He then stopped following to silently creep off the path with Quil, careful to not walk into the Cyndaquil's fiery back.
The Nidorino began a response about the positive nature of Stolt's probable goals, but he didn't seem too sure about it. Squirtle hoped that uncertainty would be enough to keep the Nidorino talking to his imagined audience. In the meantime, Squirtle and Quil were taking tiny and stealthy steps that soon escalated into a frenzied run.
"We've got to put some distance between us and the Nidorino, Quil!"
"Okay, but then what? Sneak around and try to get to the ferry? Will it even take us? I hope Stolt or his underlings aren't there!"
Squirtle grimaced, seeing Quil had a point. If only there was time to concoct a proper plan. They could lay low for a while, and figure out how to successfully board the ferry. "Quil, I think we should-"
He stopped his dash at the sound of a distant bell's toll, ringing out over the roofs of Karprest. The warm, metallic sound filled the air. The sound kindled a dread in Squirtle that he could not understand. A bell, a bell, where had he seen a bell?
The pavilion. Under the pavilion, by the dock. The ferry!
"The ferry! Quil, the ferry! The bell is for the ferry!"
Quil turned, urgently running back to Squirtle. "There's no time! What are you talking about? What does a bell matter? We have to get away from Nidorino – any second he's going to realize we're gone!"
Squirtle waved his hands frantically. "No, the bell is for the ferry! It must mean that it's leaving. Quil, the ferry is leaving! Now!"
Quil stiffened with a gasp.
A roar of frustration came from where they had left the Nidorino.
And the bell finished tolling.
As one, Quil and Squirtle started running through the nearly empty alleys and clearings of Karprest, toward the river. Squirtle took the lead, trying to aim them toward the dock he had visited. The bell's resonant sound was difficult to trace, and he had no line of sight to the river. Every which way was wooden buildings, with a bush here, a windblown garden there, a hushed council in this house, an angry conversation in that one. Squirtle had seen none of this part of Karprest before. He hoped they would come upon the river soon, and be able to follow it north to the dock. Yet they had no time to waste. They needed to travel in a straight line to get to the ferry as swiftly as possible.
That line of thought sparked an idea in Squirtle's head, as he looked to the roofs made of tightly-woven grasses supported beneath by sloped wooden beams. "Quil, do you see anywhere we can get roof access? A ladder, or a cluster of boxes?"
"I don't get it, why not just jump?" Quil shouted as they kept moving.
"I..." Squirtle thought about their flight out of Root Forest. He recalled his endurance pushing through the tall grass, his speed beneath the Butterfree's descending spore cloud, and the strength of his final jump. Though he hadn't crested the top, looking back, it was quite a jump he'd made. Squirtle still wasn't thinking like a Squirtle, it seemed.
"Right, my mistake, here goes!" Since it was five times higher than Squirtle from the ground, he estimated the shortest nearby building was nine feet tall at the roof's eaves.
I can't jump that high, I'm not a Blaziken, thought Squirtle, but he nonetheless aimed for the roof and pushed off against the ground.
His leg muscles contracted powerfully, and the roof lurched toward him. His legs propelled him further than he thought possible. As his hands reached the eave, he pulled on the edge with his short fingers, grunting with the effort. The extra pull sent him upward, allowing him to land with two feet on the roof's grassy weave. Quil landed next to him a moment later, casually. Squirtle glanced backward. He had really just jumped five times his height onto a roof.
Being a Pokémon isn't half bad! Squirtle felt the same way he had after the battle in the canyon on the way to Karprest, but to a lesser degree. A thrill rose within his chest. A fierce smile threatened to burst out onto his face. His fingers twitched, wanting to clench in anticipation of more.
However, these feelings were new to him. He could not recall any history of loving exercise, physical feats, or fighting. Thus, the feelings must be new. They were either a result of a reshaped personality, or inherent to his new Squirtle form. Of course, he suspected the latter, since Pokémon were combative and primal creatures, and would be prone to such feelings. Quil at his side seemed relatively calm, but perhaps he was well used to the thrill.
"There, right Squirtle?" Quil pointed with a forelimb. A gap in the riverside's plant life marked the way to the dock and the ferry. Squirtle could not see if the ferry was still moored.
There would be time enough later to ruminate about the physical prowess and experience of being a Pokémon. Squirtle cleared his mind, and nodded. "Good spot, let's get there!"
Before they could drop down and head in the right direction, a pounding of feet approached from the side of the building away from the river. A Nuzleaf and an Elekid were coming their way, but they did not seem to notice the little Squirtle and Cyndaquil high up on the roof.
"Those two are from Stolt's meeting," Quil said. At the same time, Squirtle caught the words the Nuzleaf and Elekid were saying to each other.
"Mayor Biba won't be under watch, though. Stolt'll hate us!" The Elekid was complaining in an annoying, squeaky voice.
"No, this'll get us in his favor, kid," the Nuzleaf returned haughtily. "Stolt said the ferry is not to be used. We're going to make sure it isn't, so hurry up!"
"We have to get to the ferry-" started Squirtle.
"-before they do!" finished Quil, followed by an amused chuckle.
Together, they dropped off the roof's edge, and joined the race. The Nuzleaf and Elekid, surprised by their appearance, hastily said some quiet words to each other. Then they gave chase.
"Stop, Squirtle and Cyndaquil! Stop running!" the Nuzleaf called out. He was about fifteen steps behind, but his taller form and longer strides threatened to overtake them eventually. The Elekid was speedy herself since her strides were so quick, as if motorized by a battery. The race would be a close thing.
Onward the four ran, two seeking an escape, two seeking a capture. Quil and Squirtle made a sharp turn around a bench next to a large table, and the dock was in sight. Framed by the riverside plants, the sole pier extended into the small bay. Beyond, the waters of the Karp river flowed gently southward. The morning fog had all burned up.
Squirtle squinted, and could just make out the Palpitoad he had spoken to that morning throwing a rope from the raft-like ferry onto the pier using his flat tail. The ferry was casting off. He told Quil what he saw.
"Another trial to overcome, huh," the Quil said bitterly. "Squirtle, you know most Fire-types can't swim right? I have to board that ferry."
"We'll make it. It's only just starting to pull away," Squirtle said between labored breaths. And it did look like they would. The ferry was slowly drifting away from the pier, ready to set out away from shore. He was surprised at the vehemence in Quil's voice, but Quil was on fire, after all. Any Cyndaquil would probably despise water. Riding a ferry across the water would be a scary prospect. A necessary evil for his journey to be successful, though.
The Nuzleaf and Elekid continued to give chase, now only ten steps behind. If Squirtle or Quil stopped, they'd be overtaken faster than they could turn around and surrender properly. Occasionally the Nuzleaf shouted some officious phrases about Stolt's edicts and the good of Karprest, but Squirtle and Quil paid them no mind.
Now they were passing the plants, passing the pavilion with its bell, and about to run down some steps and out onto the pier. Then, the ferry began to move. Instead of gently drifting away from the pier and out into the bay, it heaved forward with purpose. A wake formed behind the ferry immediately, and the placid water in front of the ferry became rippled and disturbed from the sudden activity beneath the surface. Something must have been tugging the ferry.
By they time they reached the end of the pier in a few seconds, the ferry would certainly be too far away to make a jump.
"Krow's luck!" Quil cursed. "It's leaving! What can we do!?"
Squirtle said nothing, but racked his brains furiously for a solution. Quil could not swim, but he needed to get on the ferry. But the ferry had already left, and they could not reach it. They had no gear to help, of course. There were no other vessels at the pier, or on the banks. Was there some move that Quil knew to help him? Squirtle had no idea. Nor did he know what he could do, if anything, other than a Tackle. What could he do?
Now they were on the pier, with their pursuers not far behind. As they neared the free end of the wooden pier, their pounding feet set the pier shaking. Squirtle himself would no doubt be fine in the water, but how would that do Quil any good?
Quil came to a stop as they ran out of pier to traverse, but Squirtle did not slow.
"Quil, jump on my shell! It's the only way!" Squirtle said, already airborne and plummeting into the inviting blue waters. He surfaced immediately, and heard Quil's response.
"No, I can't, I can't! No way!" He hopped on one leg, then the other, flailing his forelimbs and violently shaking his head. Quil looked half out of his mind.
"Please Quil, they'll take us to Stolt. It's the only way!" Squirtle repeated. Quil continued to stubbornly shake his head from the edge of the pier. The Nuzleaf and Elekid reached them at last, both panting like they were.
The Nuzleaf stood on the side of the pier and looked over Squirtle to the ferry. He repeatedly slashed the air in front of him with his forearms and mitten-like hands. Leaves rapidly sprouted from his appendages, then detached to spin away like throwing stars. Squirtle did not look to see if the leaves struck the ferry or its occupants, but he heard squelching sounds, as of leaves being struck by globs of mud.
"I'll take the Cyndaquil," said the Elekid eagerly. "If the shock doesn't get him, the Paralysis will!" She closed her eyes, and electricity began jumping between the two prongs above her head. The hum grew louder and louder.
"Quil!" Squirtle shouted desperately. "I'll catch you!" I really hope, he added in his head.
The Elekid launched her attack. A bright yellow bolt of electricity with a white core shot high into the air, then back down faster than any eye could follow. But Quil had jumped. The bolt struck the end of the pier where Quil had been standing a second before. The piercing sound of crackling electricity filled the air, echoing around in the bay, just like when Stolt had accidentally electrified Keema the Meowth.
The end of the pier exploded from the attack. Wooden boards were blasted into the air. A circle of light briefly lit the air at the impact site, with yellow arcs of electricity jumping about. Then it was gone. The falling wooden boards made splashes, and loud THUNK noises wherever they struck the pier.
Squirtle had no time to be impressed with the small Elekid's immense power. He pulled at the water with his right hand and right foot, getting underneath Quil just in time. Squirtle bobbed slightly with the impact. Immediately, Quil grasped the edges of Squirtle's shell with all four of his limbs, hugging him for dear life.
"Don't drop me, don't drop me, don't drop me," Quil shouted over and over. The fire of his back was a roaring blaze, larger and brighter than Squirtle had ever seen it.
"I won't, believe me," said Squirtle confidently, his mouth just above the waterline.
The water felt amazing. Squirtle's whole body felt energized and delighted to be swimming. He never wanted to walk around on dry land ever again. The water was like a tight embrace that hugged every inch of him, giving him comfort and vigor but asking for nothing in return. His body's soreness was forgotten. A zesty vitality had taken its place.
Swimming was a simple matter in the water's arms. He let it take him where he wanted to go. Squirtle's arms and legs began moving in a technique much like breaststroke, but he didn't worry about what he was doing. His tail began pushing the water back and forth behind him like the rudder of a boat, but he paid it no mind.
Like the beautiful waters around him, Squirtle could think clearly and calmly. He could see the Nuzleaf preparing for another volley of stiff leaves as the Elekid recovered from her devastating Electric attack. This time, the Nuzleaf was intent on them, since the attack on the ferry must have been unsuccessful, or the ferry was now too far away.
Squirtle felt a twinge of discomfort as he pictured the leaves flying toward him. Leaves are Grass-type, he realized. If they hit me, I'm done for. But Quil will be able to take them.
"Quil, listen. I know this is terrifying right now. But you have to stop the leaves from the Nuzleaf, or I don't know what's going to happen to the S.S. Squirtle."
Quil gripped the edges of his shell all the tighter in response. He had stopped repeating 'Don't drop me,' which was a good sign. Still, he made no verbal response.
The Nuzleaf raised his arms and began the arm chopping motions once again. Leaves shot forth, cutting through the distance to Squirtle and Quil. Squirtle felt an instinctual urge to submerge, but hardened himself to it. Quil was not going underwater no matter what, because Squirtle imagined that would be worse than any attack that might come from the Nuzleaf or even the Elekid.
"Here it comes!" warned Squirtle.
Quil yelled wordlessly, squeezing Squirtle's shell. A wave of heat rolled over Squirtle from the flames of Quil's back. The blaze not only shielded Quil's entire body from the leaves, but it also extended outward enough to protect the bottom of Squirtle's shell. A second later, Squirtle could hear leaves burning up in Quil's fire. A smell like a campfire reached Squirtle's nostrils.
Still, the fire did not completely protect them. Grunts punctuated Quil's continual yell each time a leaf struck him through the fire. The leaves burned, but the fire did not stop them all from impacting his back before they burned up.
A sudden pain pierced one spot on Squirtle's tail. His cry was smothered as he ducked his head under the water's surface. He looked past his belly scutes to see a leaf sinking beneath his tail, its speed and stiffness lost after delivering its strike.
Squirtle examined the sensation he felt, this being his first significant experience of pain from a Pokémon's attack. Really, though, it was not too bad. He felt pain, but it was not an intense or even distracting pain. More worrying was the weakness that spread from the impact site. Squirtle did not see a cut from his angle, but the leaf must have made one. His whole body felt a bit more weary from the damage the leaf had inflicted. Nonetheless he was still perfectly able to swim.
Squirtle looked behind him to make sure they were clear. The Nuzleaf was shaking his fist at them, but the Elekid had come to the new edge of the ravaged pier. She was motionless, probably about to begin charging one final long-range attack.
Not even the water's comfort could shield Squirtle from the rise of fear. If struck, he would be knocked out instantly. It would be Stolt's terrifying attack all over again. There was nowhere to run, especially with a heavy load on his back. Squirtle and Quil were wide open to attack, like a lone lightning rod in a flat plain. They needed cover, but all around was water. How could water help?
I have to admit, I am on fire with these ideas today. I hope they keep paying off.
"Quil, unless you have a better plan, you need to use a Fire technique on the water around us. Can you do that? Quickly!"
"No. I can't."
Squirtle groaned. What was a Fire-type with no Fire moves? Of course, he was not one to talk. "It's the only idea I have, Quil, you have to try! It's the only way!"
"You keep saying that," said Quil through clenched teeth. Nevertheless he gingerly released his hold on Squirtle, and slowly rotated until he was facing the pier. Squirtle felt vibrations through his shell back. Quil was trembling.
Bright electricity was arcing between the Elekid's prongs. The Nuzleaf stepped backwards away. The Elekid concentrated her gaze on them.
"It's up to you, Quil, but I believe you can do it. You haven't let us down yet."
Quil drew in a shaky breath. He exhaled hard not with the sound of a breath but the gentle roar of fire, as when someone breathes into the base of a campfire to give it oxygen. Bright red motes of light flurried outward from his mouth. Embers from a fire. They were not many in count, and the embers did not seem very dangerous to the touch. But they had promise, like modest candle-flames that could grow to a roaring fire if they only had fuel.
As each ember settled onto the water's surface, it vanished in an eruption of steam and the hiss of a fire doused by water. In seconds, Quil and Squirtle were immersed in steamy air. And just as quickly, Quil was clutching Squirtle's shell again with all four limbs.
Maybe not the best idea, Squirtle immediately thought. Now I can't see the ferry to follow it. I should-
His thought process was stopped abruptly. The steam lit up for a split second in the eerie yellow of electricity. Squirtle felt electrical current flowing through his whole body. His paddling limbs stiffened, then relaxed. Completely.