Chapter 9

Comparison

Squirtle and Keel the Marshtomp made it back to the ferry of Karprest without incident. They passed underneath a Surskit, the same Surskit that Squirtle had seen that morning sending bubbles at a Tympole.

"That's Jib," Keel explained, as he glided belly-up far beneath the surface. "She's on upper defense duty, just like I'm on lower defense duty. We gotta watch for aggressive wilds as we cross the Karp, and battle 'em down if need be."

Safely beneath the ferry once more, Keel split from Squirtle to patrol during the remaining minutes of the voyage. He said the times of greatest risk were at the beginning and ending of the trip, because more wilds lived near the riverbanks. Squirtle, left to his own devices, considered returning to the deck and checking on Quil. The trip was almost over, however, so Squirtle elected to enjoy the river while he still could.

He increased his pace to approach the front of the ferry. Squirtle had his suspicions of what was pulling the ferry because of what Tiller had said, but he wanted to see the process in action with his own eyes. He recalled seeing the frothing surface of the water in front of the ferry's bow, and now the reason for the disturbance became clear.

That morning, Squirtle had seen the long ropes that connected the ferry to a big, finely-woven, but empty net. Now, he saw the fibers of the net taut as various Pokémon pushed into it in their own manner of swimming. Squirtle spotted two Magikarp, a Tympole, a Wooper, and a Mudkip in the net. The rest of the ferry's crew. Each was focused on swimming forward, and each added to the roiling of the water at the surface. The net was not for catching Pokémon; it functioned as a harness.

Squirtle stayed out of sight, allowing the crew to focus, but wondered if any of them might like a break. Perhaps he could fill in, and give one of the air-breathers a chance to catch a breath at the surface. Although, Squirtle wasn't sure if any of them actually needed to breathe air, when he thought about it.

As he swam easily behind the net, Squirtle could see the riverbed curving up out of the gloom to become the riverbank. The ferry had nearly arrived. Hopefully Quil could see, and was feeling excited to get away from the water. Squirtle grimaced at that.

This means that every time we come across water, Quil and I will have opposite reactions. So long as I'm traveling with him, I'll never be able to fully enjoy a long swim because Quil will always be eager to get away from the water.

After deciding to get back on the ferry, Squirtle had to figure out how, since he saw no means of accessing the deck from the water, not even a ladder. He gained some speed underwater, then angled upward, successfully soaring a couple of feet above the surface before crashing back in. A few practice jumps later, Squirtle powered through the water in preparation for the jump to the deck. Just before reaching the side of the boat, he angled himself upward and launched out of the water - his fastest jump yet.

CLUNK!

His head collided with the hull, and he fell back into the river. He'd surfaced too late, and hit the side of the boat instead of soaring over the edge.

Weakness spread from his forehead, as it had when the Nuzleaf's attack had sliced his tail, but this was barely perceptible. The pain was likewise very light. Pokémon were durable indeed. Squirtle tried again immediately.

This time, he made it over the edge of the ferry with no contact. Squirtle had not planned for how to land gracefully on the deck, but he managed to break his fall with one hand and awkwardly roll to his feet. Fortunately no one was looking at the time.

"Just in time for landing, Squirtle," said the Palpitoad, Tiller, in his throaty voice. Quil was still motionless in the center of the boat, but looking more relaxed. Orala and Rutu glanced at Squirtle, but returned to watching the shore come into view in detail at last.

Far in the distance, an impressive range of mountains blocked view of the horizon. Their jagged peaks reached into the sky as if an earthen giant larger than imagination was clawing at the clouds. The mountaintops were white with snow. In front of the mountain range, foothills of green and brown rolled over the vast landscape, similar to the hills that Squirtle and Quil had descended between Root Forest and Karprest. Yet even the foothills were distant, as a formidable swath of grassland lay between the Karp River and the foothills, its pastures unmarked by a single tree.

All of this Squirtle could see from the deck of the ferry as it approached the grassy bank. The landscape was so open and visible that Squirtle actually felt intimidated as he thought about just how many square miles of wilderness he could see. Now he was a little Pokémon, too, which meant the distances were even more significant to traverse.

Trailing out from the dirt bank, a pier bobbed on the water – the dock at Karprest in miniature. When the ferry neared it, some of the Pokémon tugging the front of the boat emerged from the water. The harness net drifted up to the surface, empty. The Wooper and Mudkip marched tiredly up the bank while the rest simply floated around the boat to relax.

Before the boat had come to a stop, Quil was preemptively leaping off the boat and sprinting up the pier. He stopped a safe distance from the water's edge and embraced the ground beneath him with both forelimbs.

As the ferry came alongside the pier, Tiller jumped up onto the gunwale of the boat opposite the pier. Squirtle could see him producing a stream of bubbles from his mouth as he leaned out to aim at where the water lapped against the side of the boat. He faced first one spot, then quickly skirted to the side to point the bubbles at a part of the boat closer to the stern. Then he was at the front of the boat, shooting bubbles at a slower rate. Squirtle could feel the boat moving and rotating in response to the forceful bursting of the bubbles. Bit by bit the boat came to rest in a perfect position next to the pier, aiming back out to the river. Keel the Marshtomp surfaced in order to expertly tie a rope from the boat onto one of the supports for the pier, and then the trip was over.

Orala and Rutu retrieved a little pouch with a carrying strap from the edge of the deck, and Rutu pulled out three gleaming golden coins. Tiller nodded, and kicked out a small canister that jingled from near the bow. Rutu deposited his coins, and after Tiller thanked them and invited them to use the ferry some other time, the Gloom and Sunflora departed. To Squirtle's eyes, they looked to be heading along the river's edge, downstream. He wondered which direction Quil was bound.

Squirtle stepped up to Tiller, but the Palpitoad spoke before he could.

"Save it, my Squirtle friend. I don't need to hear any excuses or explanations from one of the 'mon who helped this ferry get away safe from Karprest. And I don't need any Poké, neither."

Once Squirtle determined that Poké was the name of the currency, he understood that Tiller was letting Quil and him off the hook. He nodded seriously.

"Thank you, Tiller. And I believe Quil would thank you too, if he weren't so...opposed to being near water."

"Take care on your travels." He turned away and raised his voice to a shout. "Karprest Ferry Crew, emergency meeting on the dock in five minutes!"

Squirtle dipped his tail in the water one last time as he walked up the pier to Quil. Who knew the next time he'd be able to enjoy the delightful, cool touch of a river like that? Quil was waiting for him, looking relaxed once more.

"Tiller said we didn't have to pay, as thanks for protecting the ferry," Squirtle explained. "Even though we were just protecting ourselves," he finished a bit ruefully.

"Oh, great! I don't have any Poké, so I'm glad he was fine with us coming along for free," Quil replied.

"Come to think of it, maybe Tiller let us off because he saw we didn't have any money," Squirtle said.

Quil tilted his head. "Maybe, yeah."

Squirtle felt an odd smile come onto his face as he thought back to the Pokémon he had met thus far. Most of the Pokémon he'd interacted with had been intimidating. They were larger than him, more straightforward and confident than him, and would definitely prove more powerful than him in a battle. Yet a good portion of those Pokémon were fair and reasonable in their dealings with him, and even generous. The juxtaposition of size and power with civility and kindness was difficult for Squirtle to settle, in his mind. Even the Zigzagoon in the canyon maintained some breed of courtesy following their fight.

Squirtle was not displeased at all to add Tiller to the list.

Quil started forward toward the mountains, directly away from the river. Squirtle followed at his side. The gentle sounds of the river became the crunching of grass beneath their feet. Squirtle's view of the vast panorama of wilderness was swallowed by the browns, yellows, and greens of the grassland they now entered. However, Quil led them into a strip of land somewhat cleared of growth. A path.

The path was fairly spacious, thankfully, and it meandered little. The air smelled peculiarly fresh, unladen by any plant odors. By the looks of it, the path was not trimmed very often, but at least most of the grass on it had not yet grown any higher than Squirtle's tail. On the other hand, the grasses on either side of the path grew well above his head, blocking vision of the area. Squirtle felt as small as he had in Root Forest. He was isolated from the world, packed into a tiny pocket of grassland with Quil.

The pair had barely left the ferry behind when Quil spoke up.

"Squirtle, you were amazing back there, getting us to the ferry. I never got the chance to tell you that."

He couldn't help but feel a glimmer of pride as he recalled the highlights of their flight, but Squirtle replied graciously. "Thank you, Quil. You did your part too, of course, when you used your fire to make the steam."

"And that's just it, Squirtle. I was so thoughtless!"

Squirtle turned to him sharply as he continued.

"I once learned a Fire-type technique that we Flames call Smokescreen. And you know what it does? It makes a cloud of smoke to prevent others from seeing you clearly. Exactly what we needed to make it to the ferry in one piece. While I was holding onto your shell, not thinking at all, I had in my head the perfect technique for the situation. Literally, the perfect one. And I just held on, waiting for it all to be over."

Squirtle was surprised by the information, but their escape had been successful. It was in the past now. He opened his mouth to console Quil by saying as much, but Quil continued his rant.

"I should have tried to use my Smokescreen when that Elekid was charging up her Electric attack, but I was terrified. I admit it. I couldn't think." His head moved, and Squirtle guessed he was looking sidelong at him now. "You though, you were incredible back there, thinking on your feet so quickly. A real tactician. I wish, I really wish I could have acted differently, -"

Before he could say more, Squirtle interrupted. "Quil, it's alright, it's okay. We made it, and we could not have done it without you. If the Elekid had landed a direct hit on me, I don't think I would have stayed conscious." He paused, remembering the feeling of the electricity coursing through the water and into him. "But the steam you produced must have impaired her aim. You did save us. I know I swam us to the ferry, but we escaped by both our efforts."

Quil made a noise of heavy skepticism. "You're saying my steam made her miss? Not the fact that we were already one or two hundred feet away from the dock?"

After a moment's thought, Squirtle said, "Yes. I still think she would have hit us if you hadn't produced the steam cover."

Quil sighed. "I trust you're being honest, Squirtle, but I can't trust your understanding of Pokémon battling just yet. Sorry."

That was a blow, coming from the ever humble and encouraging Quil, but he was wrong. Yes, during the battle with the Zigzagoon, Squirtle had been completely oblivious. But Quil didn't know Squirtle had gotten a bit more experience with battling, and even learned the basics of a Water-type technique. He wasn't ignorant of how Pokémon battling worked!

As those thoughts raced through his mind, Squirtle found his lips beginning to part, and a snarl starting in his throat. With his anger roused, he could feel his grip on his composure loosen. Immediately, he stopped the snarl and stood tall and rigid to prevent himself from falling into a battle-ready crouch.

"Fine, you don't have to think my reasoning is correct. It's obvious to anyone that I'm not yet competent. However, I'm not going to trust your understanding of Pokémon battling either. Mind telling me why you were so reluctant to use a Fire technique on the water around us, just before the Elekid's last attack?"

Quil appeared to become suddenly interested in the grassy ground in front of his feet, and said nothing.

Another instance of Quil's reluctance occurred to Squirtle as they walked. "Now that I think about it, you refused to use your fire in the forest, too. You said there was a Paras about to attack us, when I was Paralyzed. So I suggested you use your fire, since fire is very potent against Paras, right?"

Quil nodded.

Squirtle continued, "In spite of that, you said couldn't use your fire, or that you could only do it somewhere else. I didn't think about it until now, but that doesn't make sense to me. Oh, and you didn't use any Fire-type moves against the Zigzagoon either. Why not, Quil?"

Quil said something quietly, too quiet for Squirtle to hear, so Squirtle kept talking.

"Ever since I saw you fight with the Zigzagoon, I thought you had plenty of battle experience. Yet, from what I can tell, you don't use your Fire abilities unless you absolutely have to. Why?"

"I said, because they're bad!" Quil cried. "They're awful! My Fire-type moves are a joke. They wouldn't hurt a Caterpie."

Squirtle was thrown by that explanation. In a battle, he supposed that it was logical to stick to the reliable techniques, the techniques that you knew would hit hard. If Quil felt his Fire-type moves were inadequate, then he would be right to not use them. A Cyndaquil not using its fire, though, must be foolish. Squirtle thought that all Cyndaquil had naturally potent Fire techniques; flame streamed from their bodies, after all. So why should Quil be any different? Wouldn't he have practiced, at least, if they were on the weak side?

"The steam, though. Those motes of light you made were bright red, and they created a great deal of steam. Surely there was power in that technique."

Quil looked at him sidelong again, seeming to consider his words, but he finally said, "No, I doubt that. The Fire Pokémon that I've seen make fire could light up a moonless night, could make you see stars when you looked away. Especially Quindo. My brother."

Squirtle could not resist a brief smile at the mention of the name of Quil's brother, despite the gravity of the conversation. Quil's parents must have had some strange naming conventions. Thankfully Quil was looking forward and did not see his smile.

"I'm just a candle in comparison," he continued. "My fire's pitiful. I'm hoping when I get to Iyrodenin, that will be fixed. One of the very few benefits I'm looking forward to on this dumb journey."

"I don't suppose Quindo is a Typhlosion who works on his technique every day, is he?"

Quil laughed once, without much humor. "He's a Quilava. The day he got back from his Pilgrimage to Iyrodenin as a newly-evolved Quilava, his fire was miles beyond mine. Even before he left, when we were both Cyndaquil, he was better. He's always been better. And no, he doesn't go looking for battles constantly to improve."

"He's older and more experienced, probably like most of the Fire Pokémon you said you've seen, so maybe that's why your Fire techniques seem weak. You're making a comparison, not an individual measurement."

"Squirtle, battling is all about comparisons. Who is stronger, which move is faster, how one Type relates to another. My Fire moves are weaker, so they're weak. Sadly."

Squirtle frowned. "Well Quil, I guess we're stuck. I know what I saw, and I don't think it was pitiful at all. You, on the other hand, think your Fire techniques are terrible. Oh, I know how we can settle this! The next time we face a wild Pokémon looking for a battle, you use that Fire move again, and we'll see how it measures up in a real battle!"

Quil groaned. "That is one of the best ideas I've heard...for trying to get knocked out as fast as possible."

"Put it this way: do you think you'll be able to evolve at Iymo...that volcano if you never practice your Fire techniques?"

Quil seemed to think it over. "Fine, I'll try. Now can we talk about something else please? I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry for how I acted during our escape, and to thank you."

Squirtle was tempted to say, 'Like I said, you helped us escape, too!', but he respected Quil's wishes.

"Alright," he said, and allowed the brushing and crunching of the grass to fill the air for a moment.

"You know," said Quil, "you almost sound like you're eager for another battle, but when we fought the Zigzagoon, it wasn't exactly a great success for us."

Quil was correct. The battle had been nerve-wracking and uncertain up until the end. The thrill of victory had been immensely satisfying, but victory was never guaranteed in the future. More worrisome to Squirtle than the battle itself, however, was his reaction to it. Had it been he who relished the Tackle he had performed, the victory that had been won? Or was it the Pokémon body he inhabited? He felt that before his transformation he would have turned away from every confrontation. Was he now so eager to fight again? To assess Quil's skills, and to test his own?

Squirtle raised his arms to try to interlace his fingers behind his smooth head, but his arms were now too short to reach each other.

"I don't know. I want to say that yes, I'm eager, but I don't know if that's the right answer." Squirtle somehow felt Quil's scrutiny on him, despite the strangeness of Quil's eye-wrinkles, so he hastily said, "Can we talk about something else?"

Quil chuckled.

"Speaking of your brother," said Squirtle, "I've been curious about how you two got your names: Quil and Quindo. Is it normal to be given a name that's close to the name of your species, where you come from - Steady Steppe, right?"

"Yeah, it's definitely normal, but it depends on the species. Some 'mon tend to give more unique names. Stolt, for example – I've never heard a name like that, and it's completely different than the names of the species in that evolutionary line: Shinx, Luxio, Luxray. Then there are 'mon like me and my family who give names more appropriate for the species in the evolutionary line. Quil, as in Cyndaquil or Quilava. I guess the origin of my name is pretty obvious, right?" He laughed again.

Quil must have noticed Squirtle paying rapt attention, so his explanation continued. "I think it's better that way. Remembering someone's name is easy when you can match it to their face. When I introduced myself to Bein, he butted heads with a Cyndaquil, which he will probably remember. But if he forgets my name, at least he can picture my face, think of 'Cyndaquil', and that'll help him remember my name's Quil. The same goes for all Pokémon that give names based off the species names in their evolutionary line."

"Alright, that makes sense, but what if you had a few other siblings? Wouldn't it be confusing to have, say, ten members of a family, each with a name based off the same three words? Better yet, what about a family that only has two evolutions in its line, or one that doesn't evolve at all?"

"A perfect question, young Squirtle, allow me to answer it!"

Squirtle gave Quil a questioning glance, who laughed in response. Squirtle rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

"First of all, I think you might be surprised at how many unique names you can make out of the name of even one species. Even if the names are similar, like Quil and Quindo, they're still easy to tell apart. Still, you're right. Some families in Steady Steppe were huge – I'm talking twenty or thirty 'mon! So the names become too similar. And for those cases, there are hatch names."

"Hatch names?"

"Technically, there are two types of names: hatch names, and nicknames. Quil is a nickname. Squirtle is a nickname. By the way, plenty of Pokémon go by their species name like you, where I'm from, so please don't think it's strange."

Squirtle nodded, feeling a surprising amount of relief.

"So when you meet and talk to 'mon," Quil continued, "every name you hear is a nickname. Hatch names are more private. They're familial names. Big families, and families with strong family ties, tend to give hatch names as well as nicknames, so that they don't get confused within the family. For example, I met a Bulbasaur once who told me his hatch name. Usually it's private knowledge, but I don't think he'd mind me telling you. It was Rarssa. Everyone knew him as Ivies, but he came from a large family, so he had siblings with names similar to Ivies. To solve that issue, everyone in his family was given a hatch name. Hatch names are usually much easier to tell apart, and they're also easy for that species to say."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Squirtle.

"You know how every 'mon has a certain way of speaking, a sort of species accent? Well, apparently Rarssa is easy for a Bulbasaur, an Ivysaur, or a Venusaur to pronounce. The sounds are just easy to make for their mouths."

"I see. Do you have a hatch name, Quil?"

Quil paused before saying, "It's considered a bit impolite to ask someone their hatch name where I live, Squirtle, and probably around here too. Just so you know."

"Ah, sorry. I'll keep that in mind."

"No big deal, since I don't have a hatch name. I'm just Quil."

Squirtle nodded, piecing together everything Quil had said. "I understand now. Nicknames are usually intuitive, and easy to remember. Hatch names are sometimes given as more unique identifiers in large families. Thanks for the explanation."

"That's the gist! Your turn, then. Can you remember how 'mon did names where you come from? Or is it one of those memories that's gone?"

Oh, Squirtle remembered perfectly well how names were done where he came from. A vast pool of typical names came to mind, but as usual, no faces or connections other than the words. He didn't think there was harm in telling Quil what he could recall, as it wouldn't jeopardize his position as a Squirtle. Still, Quil might one day realize that everything he heard about Squirtle's past could be put together to form a distinctly non-Pokémon picture.

If I want to keep asking these questions, I have to be prepared to deal with the consequences. It's a dangerous game I'm playing, thought Squirtle.

"Yes, I remember," said Squirtle. "Everyone was given one or two names when they were born. And everyone also had a family name, a name that everyone from the same family shared. A fairly simple system."

"It is," Quil agreed, "but what do you mean by born? Do you mean...they were given a name when they hatched?"

"That's what I meant," said Squirtle hurriedly. Afterward, he thought Quil paused for an unusually long time before speaking, but he could have been imagining it due to the tension he felt inside.

"Yep, your system is not too different from the way we do it in Steady Steppe, and the nearby regions."

The route through the grassland turned into a slight rise so that Quil and Squirtle could briefly see over the grasses to the hills in the distance, and even the towering mountains far beyond. The pair had made no measurable progress, in Squirtle's eyes. He wondered where the next stop was on Quil's journey, but first he wanted answers about a different topic. Learning about the world was greatly pleasing to Squirtle.

He said, "Another custom that is probably different between where you and I come from is how battles are treated. Unfortunately I can't recall anything from my past for this one. Now, how do I ask this properly?"

Quil waited patiently, his head craning about every now and then, as if he were peering into the tall grasses for something. Squirtle, meanwhile, mentally reminded himself to choose his words carefully so as to not sound strange to Quil.

"While you were on the boat, Quil, I swam in the river. I actually got into a short battle with a Magikarp."

"Oh, really? Magikarp aren't strong fighters, are they? Did you win?"

Squirtle smiled. "Yes, I won, and yes, I found it to be relatively weak. What concerns me is what happened before the battle. The Magikarp was minding its own business, swimming by. I swam close to it, looking to battle with it. So the Magikarp finally came at me to attack. But I felt bad, Quil. I just wanted to practice my skills, not interrupt its day-to-day life, and maybe even hurt it! How can I justify my actions, when they're so objectively selfish, and potentially cruel?"

"What!?" Quil returned his full attention to Squirtle. "That's not being selfish or cruel! What part of starting a battle is selfish or cruel?"

"Like I said, I might have badly hurt it. And I started the battle in order to improve myself, but what if the Magikarp was not like-minded and had no interest in fighting?"

"Agh, Squirtle, I think you're approaching this in entirely the wrong way. Please don't take offense. Battling isn't like that, it's not how you described it. I thought battling etiquette was the same everywhere, but if you're thinking of it like that, then I'm definitely wrong."

"Teach me," said Squirtle eagerly. Quil shook his head slightly, not to say 'No', but as in fascination.

"Squirtle, I'm glad you're traveling with me, because talking with you can be so bizarre. You know, in a good way."

Squirtle merely encouraged him with hand gestures.

"This reminds me of the time you were confused about why we were attacked in Root Forest, and I tried to clarify it. Still, if you can't remember how battling works, then you can't remember, no matter how strange it feels to explain." Quil took a steadying breath.

"Battling in the wild is not a terrible, hostile activity. Pokémon rarely battle because of personal issues, or because one has some issue with the other. There's no hatred involved. Battling is...more of a tradition. But that's not quite it. Obviously it has a point to it; Pokémon don't often battle for fun in the wild, unless they're in the same family. No, they battle because...because it's what we're made to do,"

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I understand," said Squirtle with a frown.

"That's okay, I'm not done my explanation yet. The problem is that it's so difficult to explain! And embarrassing, too." He held up a forelimb, presumably to stifle any possible apologies from Squirtle. "I know, I know, you still want to learn."

"When we ran into the Zigzagoon," Quil explained, "some instinct got it riled up. We can't blame it for that, since it's only natural. If our positions were reversed, it should not and would not blame us. Regardless of who saw who, or whose territory was being intruded upon, or which 'mon is the more experienced fighter, there is no blame. Starting a battle is not selfish, because it's natural, and it's not cruel, because it's natural."

Here, Quil's voice briefly took on a strained quality. "Of course, one 'mon may try to avoid the battle, and that is not blameworthy either." Pause. "Anyway, both sides benefit from a battle, since they both learn from the experience, and the way they fight becomes more practiced. I won't say that it's always enjoyable or necessary. You already know how I feel about this journey in that respect. But anyone, even I, would agree that it's not a 'mon's fault if they try to battle you."

"Even if the Pokémon just wants to improve, and is not at all compelled to fight?"

"Even then, Squirtle. Improvement is a necessity in the wild, after all."

Squirtle thought over Quil's explanation, poking for holes and inconsistencies. "Let's say we stray too close to where a Raticate lives, and it fights us. If it wins, and we fall unconscious, how does that help the Raticate?"

"Battles don't usually go to the point of unconsciousness, Squirtle, since there's no need. Once it was clear that the Raticate was beating us, it would chase us away, and we would know to not go back there again. The Raticate benefits by ensuring that we don't return, since we know it will win in a battle. Stubborn fighters will go until they can't even stand up anymore, but then it's their fault for getting knocked out."

"You're saying that's not cruel?"

"No, of course it's not! Taking hits doesn't hurt much, and I'm sure you get used to it the more you battle. The usual exception is being hit by an element that you're weak against – that can hurt."

Quil fell silent, brooding, for a few seconds.

"In the end, it doesn't matter how badly you're hurt or how tired you get, because 'mon recover so quickly. You yourself experienced how quickly we felt better after Stolt...er, after this morning." Squirtle thought he could hear Quil swallow nervously. "We were back to peak shape in no time! I think that Pokémon are meant to fight. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it makes the most sense to me, for what that's worth. Maybe the way battling works is totally different where you come from, Squirtle, but everyone I've ever known sees it how I just described, with the occasional slight difference in opinion."

"You've convinced me Quil," said Squirtle. "And that's a load off my shoul- er, a load off my shell. When I know I probably have much battling to do in my future, the fact that battling is, at least around here, so fundamentally accepted is a relief. Except, one question remains in my mind."

He didn't want to ask. But that urge to learn the answer would only grow stronger if he let it simmer. He had to ask Quil. He had to. Continuing to live this life as a Squirtle required knowledge of his limits. He needed to know about mortality.

"Quil, do Pokémon ever die in battles?"

Quil stopped walking. Squirtle stared at the Cyndaquil's often indecipherable expression, trying to guess if he had breached some taboo. What he saw was an emotion somewhere between doubt and fear.

"I have never heard of that happening to someone," said Quil, slowly and quietly. "And I hope I never do."

He resumed walking, crushing the sprouting grass underfoot.

Remarkably, Quil procured food for them as they walked. Following the question and answer session, he quickly busied himself scanning the thick growth, looking for something. After a few minutes, he gave a soft exclamation and dove in headfirst. Soon he returned with some uprooted plants clasped between his two forelimbs and a grin under his snout. Quil introduced the plant as 'Diglett's Stash', and explained that the chunky purple roots could be eaten. He even shared how to identify the surface part of the plant so that Squirtle could learn how to find food in the future.

Squirtle gave them a sniff, and after devouring two of the plants' roots, he agreed that they could definitely be eaten. The roots weren't bad at all, though they were rather dry.

"Where's the next stop on the way to the volcano, Quil?" asked Squirtle as they enjoyed their meal.

"Whoops, sorry, it slipped my mind that you must have no idea where we're going!" Quil chuckled abashedly, then waved his snout tip in a broad arc. "This is Blind Prairie. At home, I wondered why it was called that."

"And now you know," finished Squirtle, with another bite of the Diglett's Stash. "Unless you're a Pokémon that's about four feet tall, you're blind among these grasses."

"Ha, exactly! Blind Prairie is huge, as we saw. I'm guessing it will take us more than a couple of days to cross. But the Plusle to that Minun is that we actually have options of where to go this time! Two towns are coming up. The first one is called Blindhollow. I don't know much about it, other than it's known for its Seed Nursery. The Pokémon there grow seeds with special properties."

Squirtle's interest was piqued. "Special properties? Special how?"

"Remember the berries I was trying to find to reverse your Paralysis when we were in the forest? Certain seeds can have similarly helpful effects, but most varieties aren't easy to find growing wild. I've only tried one or two kinds, myself."

"Got it. What about the second town?"

"The second town is," he appeared to look into the sky for inspiration. "Cavetown! Yeah, I think it's called Cavetown."

"Cavetown," repeated Squirtle flatly.

"Cavetown," Quil confirmed.

"My vote is for Blindhollow, because it has a real name."

Quil smiled in that hard-to-read way of his. "The choice we have is whether or not to skip Blindhollow. The town is supposed to be a little bit out of the way, so it would take us longer to get to Iyrodenin. An extra day, maybe two. We might find Blindhollow to be a cool place, though." Quil did not sound enthusiastic about the prospect. Squirtle guessed that he wanted zero delays on his journey in order to finish as soon as possible.

More importantly, thought Squirtle, visiting another town means a greater likelihood of finding a Psychic technique user that can help me get to my hidden memories. Squirtle did not voice this thought, since he had no desire to twist the route of Quil's journey to his own ends.

But isn't the issue of who I am and where I came from more important than a rite of passage for Quil? Besides, what's a day or two in a journey as long as Quil's? Last night, I planned out the most logical course of action to follow. That plan prioritized determining who I am and what happened to me, above all else. Even if it means leaving Quil. I have a duty to myself, and who knows who or what else, to figure this out. My transformation could have been an accident, but it could also have been planned, deliberate, and maybe even important. I can't let Quil choose my path.

However, the longer Squirtle reviewed his thoughts, the more uneasy he felt. Almost like an anxiety attack, a hand was squeezing his chest, slowing him down and making his breaths labored. Trying to persuade Quil to stop in Blindhollow, or even splitting from Quil to go by himself; both felt wrong now. His plan may have authority and the strength of logic, but his emotions did not take orders.

"Thinking hard, eh?" asked Quil.

"Yes, but I decided my preference." Squirtle forced the words out. "Let's skip Blindhollow, and just go to Cavetown."

Quil jumped a couple of feet into the air with a: "Fantastic! I don't want to make this trip any longer than it has to be, so I'm happy you also want to get to Cavetown as soon as possible!"

For Squirtle's part, he wasn't sure if he felt pleased or dismayed at the decision. He no longer felt physically uneasy, anyway. At least I was right that this would make Quil happy, he thought.

"Since we're skipping Blindhollow," said Quil, "we can take a shortcut. We have to leave this path, cut northeast through the tall grass for about an hour, and then we should hit another path like this one. If we take that new path, it'll take us more directly to Cavetown. Or so I've been told. The directions I've been given have been perfectly accurate so far though!"

"Okay, but when do cut off into the grass? Now?"

"The tall grass is supposed to thin out once we get farther from the Karp river. So let's take the shortcut once it's not so dense, okay?"

The sun had barely made it any closer to the horizon when the landscape began to subtly change, just as Quil expected. Soon the grass on either side of the path wasn't growing quite as tall nor as crowded. Still, it was too tall for either to see over without jumping. Squirtle could not determine whether the grasses were of different species that had shorter lengths, or if they were not as prosperous because of their distance from a water source.

Together, the pair stopped and faced the grassy 'wall' of the path. Squirtle felt the nag of déjà vu, and recalled leaving the clearing in which he first awoke with Quil.

"We're more likely to run into a wild once we enter the grasses," said Quil morosely. "I wouldn't want to dig my burrow on the path, if it were me."

Squirtle, in an effort to instill confidence in the both of them, said, "We'll be fine. Just remember: you promised to show me your Fire technique in our next battle!"

"I will. You have to do your part too, though; don't take a whole minute to decide to attack, if you don't mind!"

Squirtle grimaced. "Fair point. This time, I won't hesitate. Not now that you've explained in full what battling means."

And not now that I know how to shoot a high-powered stream of water at anyone that picks a fight with us!