Chapter 16
Seed
The center of Blindhollow featured a beautiful watering hole. As it filled a bucket held in its jaws, an Eevee watched with cautious eyes as Squirtle, Quil, and the Mandibuzz approached. It soon turned tail and fled to the buildings that concentrically ringed the watering hole at the center of the town. Squirtle could tell its bucket was barely filled due to how the bucket bounced and shook as the Eevee retreated.
Just uphill to the watering hole, and overlooking all who came to and went from the water, there lay what Squirtle could only describe as a hoard of treasure. It was composed of fine bedding material, baskets of seeds and other edibles, decorative bowls, some filled with various kinds of food, bottles and jars of liquid, shiny rocks and minerals, sculptures of wood and clay, scrolls of fabric, some unrolled to reveal painted artwork or writings, tools, furniture, musical instruments, torches, candles, coils of rope, satchels, toys, balls, and more.
Beside the pile was a Persian, curled up the way Persian do. Its red slit pupils watched their approach, devoid of apprehension, as it toyed with something in its front paws. A Sandslash reclined against a drum that was as big as it was. Like Quil when Squirtle had first met him, the Sandslash's expression was unfathomable, even with visible eyes. Maybe it was hard to read because it was groggy from recently awakening for the day.
Atop the pile, and slightly askew due to the disorganized and unstable jumble of items that formed its base, there was a large chair that faced the water. A throne. A Raichu had its rear planted in it, and its feet bobbing merrily in the air.
Raizula.
Her attention was not focused on the newcomers, but on a hand mirror she held by her face. She sighed contentedly as she gazed into it.
The Mandibuzz perched herself on a larger rolled up scroll sitting upright in the pile. Squirtle could see what looked like blocky text on the portion of paper that trailed out of the roll, but it was too far for him to have a chance of reading it. He and Quil had stopped their approach a cautious distance from the Pokémon of the pile.
"Mistress Raizula, being sentry during my allotted time, circling I was. Found these two leaving, but never have we seen them, yes? Never came in, didn't pay your toll."
Raizula continued to be fixated by her mirror for a moment. She brought her tail's lightning bolt shaped tip close to her face to delicately smooth a patch of fur with its edge. The mirror was lowered to the armrest. Her lips formed a thin smile as she regarded Quil and Squirtle.
"You did, did you? You're hilarious. Blindhollow's mine, you can't just wander in and out like it's just another acre of Blind Prairie." She had a sharp, snarky voice that was ever so slightly nasally. Raizula leaned forward, coming to her feet in front of her throne. "I guess I can't blame you for what you tried to do. But, you failed." She chortled with delight that seemed authentic.
"Do you like my mirror?" She picked it up and waved its shiny surface at the pair before putting it back down. "It was a gift from a Sentret who's lived in this place all her life. Such a lovely mirror, isn't it?" She sighed.
"Now you two are going to give me a gift. Rules are rules. All travelers must offer me a truly fabulous gift if they wish to come in to the wonderful tourist town of Blindhollow and see the sights there are to see. So what will it be? What do you have to offer me?"
Squirtle lowered his eyes, suddenly unwilling to meet the Raizula's commanding gaze. He hated the situation. After days of hiking in the open air with no laws to follow but those of nature, being commanded by this Pokémon was humiliating. Beyond that emotion though, he recognized a simmering anger in his chest. This wasn't right. No one should have to live beneath a selfish tyrant like this. No one.
He glanced around the watering hole and treasure hoard. The Sandslash with its unreadable expression watched them. The Persian had stopped toying with whatever was in its paws, and watched them with amusement dancing in its eyes. Squirtle could also see a couple of faces observing them, further away from the central clearing. A Slakoth standing at a window. The Eevee with its bucket, lying prone in the shadows of the dawn. It retreated out of sight when it noticed Squirtle's look. A Furret in a road farther uphill, watching the confrontation unfold.
Squirtle recognized the expressions that watched the proceedings. They were the same expressions on the Pokémon in the crowd at Karprest when Stolt the Luxio first defied Mayor Biba and tested his new power on Quil. The Pokémon wore those expressions, too, while he was being led out of Karprest by the Nidorino. Their town had been turned upside-down, and they didn't know what to do, how to make Karprest safe and happy again. They'd worn expressions of fear, uncertainty, hopelessness.
Quil stepped forth. He placed the Totter Seed given to them by Wartortle on the ground before Raizula and her cohort. Squirtle could see him tremble, though the shaking motion was small. He found himself fervently hoping that Raizula could not see Quil's trembling for some reason. Quil backpedaled to return to Squirtle's side.
Squirtle shared the fear that Quil exhibited in his trembling. The Cyndaquil wasn't the only one who had been traumatized to some degree by Stolt's coup and Electric attack. The images came back to Squirtle, and he knew he should say something to appease Raizula, put her in a good mood. Quil didn't look like he was going to open his mouth. The more flattery and satisfaction Squirtle gave to Raizula, the better their chances of getting out safe and sound. Humiliation or not.
"Our gift to you, Raizula. A fresh Totter Seed...obtained on our travels throughout the land. Blindhollow is a marvelous place, but with your blessing, we would like to continue on our way." Hopefully he wasn't pushing his luck too far.
"Another seed?" said Raizula. "At least it isn't from that Seed Nursery, that would have been such an easy gift. Fine, it'll do. Keer, darling, bring it to me won't you?"
"Of course, Mistress Raizula," replied the Mandibuzz from atop her scroll.
She hopped off her perch to bring the Totter Seed to the base of the treasure hoard. She extended her neck with the seed in her beak up to Raizula, who plucked it out and inspected the colorful little seed.
"Hm. The shape is nice, though the colors are too offensive for my taste. The orange is pretty, when the light catches it though. Yes, pretty. It'll do." She tossed the seed down to Keer the Mandibuzz, who placed it in one of the baskets filled with seeds.
It sickened Squirtle that the special gift Wartortle had personally given them was now in a pile with so many others. Most of those seeds probably had similar personal value to other 'mon who'd fallen victim to Raizula's 'toll'. The loss he felt was no doubt less painful than what Quil was feeling. His friend appeared to have a passion for plants or gardening, and sounded like he treasured his time during Wartortle's tour. The sick feeling mixed with his anger.
"What you're doing is wrong!" Quil cried in a choked voice. "How can you stand to treat your fellow Pokémon like this? Especially when you live together every day?!"
Well then. There goes our chance of getting on Raizula's good side, Squirtle thought sardonically, even though he fully agreed with Quil.
Quil hadn't been shaking from fear, it seemed. The trembles were of restrained emotion, especially anger.
The Persian rose to its feet, but its posture bespoke a dutiful readiness rather than any personal offense. The Sandslash slowly glanced up at Raizula, perhaps to gauge her reaction.
"What's that?" said Raizula. "I can't hear your little voice, Cyndaquil. Speak up won't you?"
Squirtle placed his hand on Quil's side for support. He guessed Quil did not like raising his voice. Squirtle did not look forward to Quil repeating his objections even louder, but the damage was done. Raizula would find out what he had said one way or another.
Quil repeated himself in a louder voice that Squirtle had rarely heard.
Raizula smiled for a moment, then chortled gleefully. "You're hilarious! But, little Cyndee-quill, you're wrong. I don't live with the 'mon of Blindhollow; I'm above them, on a separate level if you will. And it was only recently that I came here to stay on any permanent basis."
She gestured with her sinuous tail at the sector of wilderness to the right of the rising sun. "I used to live over that way. Sure, I popped into Blindhollow every now and then. The company, the travelers who have ranged across the land, the news they bring, the buildings 'mon have constructed – it's all quite fun as a diversion. The Prairie is my true home though. Oh, I do miss it, the wild. That thrill of living purely by your own skill and strength, and oh, never knowing what the day will offer you. The excitement simply cannot be matched, I tell you."
"Why stay here?" asked Squirtle.
"Many reasons, really, dear Squirtle. I didn't have a family in the wild, so there's nothing to draw me back except the lifestyle. But it can't satisfy me anymore. How tragic! There would be no challenge." She looked sidelong at Squirtle and Quil, smiling. "You do know what I can do, don't you?"
Without waiting for an answer, her yellow cheeks began to spark and sputter. She stood tall, as did her ears, while her tail moved to take a 'J' shape with the tip pointed vertically behind and above her ear tips. She raised her arms and her smile became a frown of concentration.
The electrical hum that Squirtle remembered so well from Stolt and the Elekid filled the air. With the sound came fragments of a nightmare he'd forgotten. That sound had preceded the worst experience of his short life, an experience that could send chills of fear down his spine by merely recalling it to mind.
Squirtle knew he could not outrun Raizula's Electric attack, especially not when it was already prepared. "Please!" he shouted up to her desperately. "Don't shock us! We know what you can do, we know we know we know! No shock, please!"
Raizula executed her technique. Squirtle's head twitched to follow the bolt as it sought its target almost faster than his eyes could follow it. The bolt was bright yellow, with a white core, and shot from Raizula's cheeks to the middle of the large watering hole. As it struck the water with a flash, an immense explosion of water resulted, along with the crackling echo of electricity. Yellow arcs of electricity danced on the entire surface of the water, and vanished as the hundreds of water droplets from the explosion spattered the surface with ripples.
Squirtle's hand was on the front of his shell, feeling his chest rise and fall rapidly. He'd truly thought he was about to be zapped into oblivion. Beside him, Quil uncurled and slowly rose to present himself to Raizula again. The Persian, Squirtle noticed, did not look comfortable, but neither did it look surprised. Perhaps Raizula performed this display often.
"Besides, I have a wonderful set-up here," Raizula continued once the boom had faded, as if nothing had happened. "Look at the wonders in front of our eyes! I find it fitting that they all belong to me, as I am one of a kind. This mirror is just one of so many gifts. And I do love gifts," she finished with a smirk.
In the pause that followed, Squirtle guessed that she was expecting a response from them.
"Yes, they're very wonderful gifts. I know that I am...pleased to add ours to your collection. With that settled, may we continue our journey?"
"Eh, you are travelers aren't you? Hm. Yes, fine, go on, get out of here. Have a sweet day won't you?"
Yes! We're free to go! I almost can't believe it. Should I bow? No, that gesture would mean nothing. And I physically can't bow.
He nodded, and turned to leave with Quil. They'd walked three steps when the Mandibuzz spoke up officiously.
"Mistress Raizula, two gifts, do you not ask two gifts? One, for entry into Blindhollow and seeing its sights, or to keep living here. And the second, for departure?"
Squirtle froze. They could run for it, right now. This would be their best chance. He considered the idea. Glancing at Quil revealed that he was probably thinking the same thing.
"Oh, yes, I forgot that I made that rule. Thank you Keer. But you know, I'm feeling generous today. Those two were great conversation, and I appreciate that. They can go. It's only just past sunrise after all. Go on, you two."
Squirtle breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Together they walked away from Raizula, away from her cohort, away from the pile of gifts, the watering hole, the clearing. No one followed them, no one tried to stop them. Their observers had made themselves scarce. This time, they were free.
As they passed one ring of buildings, a voice spoke to them from a window. "Consider yourselves lucky. She's not usually lax about her toll."
Squirtle whirled to face the voice, but caught only a glimpse of movement as the Pokémon concealed himself behind the walls. Squirtle did not wish to jinx their smooth departure, so he said nothing to the voice. They continued to ascend the slope of the shallow crater's western side. He did not consider himself superstitious by any means, but saying the wrong thing while still amid the town's buildings and denizens could reverse their fortune. Quil likewise said nothing.
At the top of the slope, welcoming them, was the break in the western grass curtain. The road by which they'd come to Blindhollow. Side by side, Squirtle and Quil reached the edge of Blindhollow's depression, and left the town behind them.
Squirtle wondered about the Pokémon who had spoke to them. His voice had not quite sounded bitter, but closer to forlorn. The voice of a resigned fate.
Thin wisps and half-eaten puffballs of cloud were strewn across the sky, the shredded remnants of the rainstorm from the previous evening. The cloud cover was thicker in the eastern and southern skies, and a fair breeze tousled the tall grasses in the same direction. They smelled particularly pungent today, and Squirtle fancied they moved in a more lively fashion than the previous days. He knew it was simply the knowledge that it had rained that was playing tricks on his perception.
The grass, as always, blocked view of the lands ahead, but when the path was perfectly straight for long stretches, Squirtle could glimpse the topography in the far distance. The view matched what he'd seen stepping off the ferry: verdant foothills mixed with brown, similar to the ones Quil and he had descended to reach Karprest, and beyond those, a transition to the gray and black of the mountainous peaks. The tallest ones were capped with pure white snow that shone beautifully in the morning light.
Still, a respectable stretch of Blind Prairie's grasses stood in the way of the first foothills. After all, they'd have to retrace their steps to where they'd encountered Hayzin's group before even stepping foot on new ground. Yet Squirtle smiled. Long days of hiking were infinitely better than being locked up in a prison cell, or worse.
After they found a bite to eat, Quil spoke up. "Raizula said she lived almost completely in the wild until she got her Electric boost. That means it wasn't just Pokémon living in settlements that were affected, and it means that the boost affected 'mon at least as far as Blind Prairie. Am I right so far?"
"Yes, that's right. We still don't know if the boost hit Pokémon with the Electric Type, or if the Electric techniques themselves received a supercharge."
Quil chuckled. "Supercharge, I like that. Considering that the Zappers we've met have not seemed unnaturally strong except for their Electric moves, I would guess that it's the electricity itself that was supercharged."
The path turned slightly, and Squirtle scooted around a familiar rock. "You think then that Electric techniques themselves were the only things affected by the boost?"
"That's just what the clues say in my head. Could also be electricity itself that was supercharged, couldn't it? Next time there's a thunderstorm, we had better stay well away from lightning strikes," he said seriously.
The image of the Sandslash rose into Squirtle's mind. "We also still aren't sure how Ground typing interacts with electricity."
"Oh, right! What was that Sandslash doing at Raizula's side? If it could walk away and ignore any Electric attack made against it, why was it still working with Raizula?"
"Well, 'If you can't beat them, join them,' right?" said Squirtle matter-of-factly.
Quil seemed to glance at him. "Huh?"
Squirtle laughed at the Cyndaquil's reaction. He didn't have to worry about not sounding like a Pokémon anymore. "It means that if you're in a hopeless situation, sometimes the best course of action is to join up with whatever's oppressing you, instead of continuing to fight it. In this case, if I were the Sandslash, and I knew that Raizula had Blindhollow under her finger, I wouldn't resist the inevitable. I may as well join up with her and benefit than try to stop her."
Quil was indignant. "I can't believe a 'mon would do that! If I were a Grounder and I had no reason to fear Zappers, there's no way I would submit like that!"
"I could be wrong," Squirtle amended hastily. "We don't have enough information. Maybe Raizula has threatened other Pokémon, like that Persian, into keeping the Sandslash close by so she could keep an eye on it. If I were a selfish tyrant, I'd be keeping my greatest threats close, not lurking in the town or inciting a revolution. Or maybe the Sandslash isn't immune to electricity anymore, or hasn't yet tested whether it is or not, and that's why Raizula has control over it."
"Yeah, those all sound possible. We don't know enough! Remember that Taillow that was perched on the Rapidash's head, next to Hayzin the Zebstrika? She said that Cavetown is known for its Grounder population. I hope we can find answers there."
Squirtle nodded. "Sounds good. It'll be a nice change to make it to a safe, stable settlement of Pokémon. There's no way a place full of Ground-types will have any issues from the Electric boost."
Quil replied to Squirtle's unspoken 'Right?' with cautious optimism. "Hopefully. I wish Planters had gotten the boost instead of Zappers, then I'd maybe have a better chance against them. Er, no offense to your Type, Squirtle."
"None taken. I was thinking yesterday that I wish I'd been transformed into a Dugtrio so I'd have Ground typing." Was that really only yesterday?
"Speaking of Type," Squirtle continued tentatively, as he knew this would be a sensitive subject. "Would you say you have a fear of water?"
"Erm. Sometimes." Quil paused. "Fine, I do, yes," he admitted. "I said I'd try to be straightforward with you, since you were with me down in the Prison. But I'm a Flame, I naturally hate water! I can't help it, sorry. Again, no offense, Squirtle."
A small smile. "I realize everyone has fears, and I'm certainly no exception. Your fear of water wouldn't bother me, except that the fear has gotten us into some tight spots. You know, the delay at the pier, taking cover from the rain in the Prison, finding another way out because of the puddle. Is there a way we can work on it?"
Quil seemed to stare at him, and Squirtle realized it had sounded like he was suggesting using his Water-type abilities on Quil or something similarly horrifying. Hurriedly, he redressed his meaning.
"No, I don't mean spraying you with water or anything like that! Maybe I could make some puddles of my own for you to step through while we talk, to start?" There was a psychology term for this type of treatment, and it came surprisingly easily to mind: systematic desensitization.
Quil took a few seconds to respond. "I see why you're making the suggestion, Squirtle. I...guess we can work on my problem with water. But don't you think we have much bigger issues to deal with?"
Squirtle wondered if Quil was genuinely more concerned with the other problems facing them, or if he was unwilling to face his fears. He hoped for the former.
"For example," Quil continued, "as it stands I don't think we can make a speck of difference in this whole Electric fiasco. We have zero advantages, and we're just two unevolved 'mon. We've only won a single battle together, against that Zigzagoon."
Squirtle cringed with embarrassment as he recalled his reaction to Raizula preparing her Electric technique. He'd screamed, pleaded with her to stop. He had been reduced to nothing before her. And here he was complaining about Quil disliking water.
"By the way," Squirtle said, "I apologize for my actions when I thought Raizula was going to shock us. The, uh, pleading and screaming."
"Oh Squirtle, don't apologize, I was terrified too. You can't blame yourself. I think any Pokémon who went through what we did at Karprest would be afraid of facing a Zapper too."
Squirtle appreciated Quil's words, though he heard the uncertainty behind them. Quil knew they weren't as brave or steadfast as other Pokémon. Suddenly, Squirtle hated that fact. The spark of righteous anger ignited and burned away his embarrassment. Sure, he may have been someone who avoided conflict in his previous life, and yes, he was only a weak Squirtle trying to find his way. That didn't mean he was entitled to behave in a cowardly fashion. Just like when he'd lost thoroughly to the Espeon, he felt once more the injustice of being powerless to find his answers. In this case, he was powerless to set things right.
"You're correct about what you were saying though Quil. There isn't anything we can do. Yet. We have no advantages, so we're going to have to create them." He made a little fist out of the three fingers on his right hand, and punched them into his open left. "Our focus needs to be training ourselves to be faster, fiercer, tougher, and above all, more confident in battle. I'm tired of being outclassed. Aren't you?"
Quil sounded surprised by Squirtle's sudden transformation. "Uh, sure I am, Squirtle. Not as much as you, I think, but losing repeatedly does get annoying. Except, how exactly will becoming better at battling help us against this?" He mimed Raizula's pose when she had prepared and fired her impressive Electric attack.
"You said it yourself Quil: Pokémon like Stolt and Raizula aren't themselves unnaturally strong, only their Electric techniques. If we get stronger, we'll be more practiced at dodging attacks, and retaliating in kind."
Squirtle's speech faltered, but only slightly. "And sure, maybe that won't be enough. Maybe we'll need to find other Pokémon to help us who feel the same way. Or maybe we'll have to fix the situation in each town by talking to the Pokémon there instead of battling. But to do any of that, we need confidence above all, and it wouldn't help to have some authority. Some reputability. We need to show other Pokémon that we are experienced travelers that know what they're talking about, not a little Squirtle and Cyndaquil losing every battle and barely making it to their destination. Does that make sense?"
Quil was quiet, and Squirtle knew he was thinking it over. Always appreciative of a thought-out response, Squirtle focused on the path ahead. His thoughts turned back, however, to what he'd said.
I sound like a revolutionary. Do I really believe that Quil and I should...inspire some kind of uprising? Become leaders? A few days ago, I would not have considered Quil more than a traveling companion. We had a mutually beneficial relationship. Now he's my friend. I suppose I've become more sensitive to the welfare of the other Pokémon in these lands as well. This Electric boost business is twisted and wrong; even I know that. If I'm something unique like Quil says I am, then I should do what I can. Even if I'm only a Squirtle, and one ignorant of Pokémon culture.
Quil replied at last. "This, right now, is a pivotal moment for us. If we set ourselves this goal of helping the Pokémon in towns like Blindhollow, our priorities will completely change. I've thought about my answer, but we need to both be sure. Are you positive you want to do this Squirtle?"
Squirtle was taken aback by Quil's solemnity. He respected his friend's serious response by actually thinking over his decision once again. The conclusion he reached once more was undeniable. Whether a Pokémon or a human, he would not be able to live with himself if he did not help in any way he could.
"Some things are more important than the individual. In my mind, whatever is going on with the Electric type is one of those things. Your journey to that volcano to evolve into a Quilava and my hunger to unlock my past can both be delayed, if you don't mind me saying so. On the other hand, the oppression, imbalance, and suffering that are occurring can't be dealt with later. This is bigger than us."
He stopped walking to face Quil, lending emphasis to his next words. "To answer your question: I'm sure. Let's do what we can, Quil."
The Cyndaquil nodded and cracked a smile. "Let's!"
"I'm glad we agree on this," Quil continued as they walked, "although I meant what I said earlier. Can we even do much at this point? I'm sure working on our battling will help, like you were saying. Those other ideas though – joining up with other 'mon who feel similarly to us, or solving the problem with words – I don't know how those will turn out. I'm no good at inspiring 'mon, and I've never played at a leadership role. I'm afraid if our plans come to that, you'll have to attack first."
Attack first? Oh, it's another turn of phrase. Here I am suggesting that battling might not be the solution, but I stumble through casual Pokémon conversation. That's auspicious.
"We'll see what happens, and I'll do my best Quil. For now I think continuing on to Cavetown as planned is a smart idea. We can train against the wild Pokémon living in the Prairie, and bolster our intel by learning what the situation is in Cavetown. Besides," he added regretfully, "I doubt we can depose Raizula as we are now. Or Stolt."
Quil sighed through his nostrils. "I agree with you, though I wish there was an easier way to work toward our goal. I do have to say, battling side-by-side with a partner makes the experience much more interesting! Sometimes it's even fun," he laughed.
"Partner," Squirtle repeated. "Hm, there's a nice ring to that. Now then, what was that phrase you used earlier? Right. 'Now is the best time.'"
Quil groaned in mock torment.
Their first morning foray off the path passed by peacefully for some minutes. Even when Squirtle and Quil bumped into a small herd of grazing Tauros, none of the placid Pokémon looked inclined to battle. A couple of the Tauros wrestled with each other, horns locked, each apparently trying to overturn the other in a contest of strength. The rest eyed the newcomers but continued to munch.
Squirtle tried to reconcile the harmonious situation in which he'd found himself with the immediately hostile wild Pokémon he'd hitherto encountered. Why were these Tauros not riled up and ready to battle? Was it their confidence in the herd to overwhelm two opponents? Did the instincts of these Pokémon compel them to ignore instead of repel aggressors? Squirtle fell back on what Quil had once said: starting a battle with wild Pokémon was never cruel or selfish. Regardless of what the Tauros thought, Squirtle would not be rude or frowned upon for picking a fight.
Quil gravitated toward the individual most separated from the core of the herd, and Squirtle backed him up. For whatever reason, the rest of the herd did not interfere with the battle. After being gored twice each, and being trampled by their increasingly angry opponent, they retreated back to the path. Squirtle had managed to practice his Water Gun, Quil his Ember, and both of them their Tackle. In fact, Squirtle had suggested they try a simultaneous Tackle to knock the Tauros off his sturdy legs, but the twin blow to the Tauros' flank was still not enough.
Following half an hour of calming and restorative hiking, both were ready to try again. This time, they ran into a furry gray and white Pokémon that was shorter than both of them. The Pokémon was using its fluffy tail to clean off some food item when they encountered it. 'Minccino,' Quil called it afterward. With startling gumption for such a small and subjectively cute creature, the Minccino wasted no time in lunging at Squirtle and spinning to deliver whip-like slaps with its tail.
Squirtle had planned for an opportunity like that, and countered by withdrawing into his shell like Wartortle had taught. The swift response by the Minccino meant that Squirtle did not have enough time to properly brace within his shell, but he could still tell that the tail slaps' effect was reduced. As anticipated, the Minccino switched targets. Squirtle could not see from within his shell, but remarkably, Quil began to chuckle and then openly laugh. Squirtle emerged once he was sure the Minccino was focused on Quil, and saw that his friend was being tickled. The Minccino grinned as it lightly brushed Quil's belly and the underside of his snout with its tailtip.
Squirtle was thrown out of his fighting mindset. Was this a valid move in a battle, or was this Pokémon not taking the battle seriously? Maybe by using laughter, one could break down the ability of one's opponent to defend itself or deliver forceful moves. Quil's helplessly joyous expression did not seem like it belonged on a Pokémon ready to battle, so Squirtle supposed the tickling technique was a legitimate move.
Squirtle Tackled the little bundle of fluff, but when it rose again, it continued to prey upon Quil. This time, its expression transformed into one of pitiable cuteness. Its large brown eyes practically shone with vulnerability and hurt. Even its posture became unsure and harmless. Squirtle continued his assault, and fortunately Quil joined him, but Squirtle could tell that his companion's Tackle lacked its usual spirit.
Psychological warfare. Squirtle had to try it sometime. He recalled the time his tail had unconsciously waved in the air behind him when he'd faced the Zigzagoon, and supposed that that qualified. Thinking of the bigger picture though, wouldn't distracting or otherwise reducing his foe's fighting capability be a waste of time compared to using offensive attacks that directly weakened his foe? He lacked the data from a thousand battles to determine which style of battling was superior.
Squirtle predicted they'd be victorious in this battle, given their opponent's often indirect fighting style. Just as he became almost certain of the outcome, Quil went down unexpectedly easily from a series of tail slaps. Squirtle performed his Withdraw technique to withstand the coming offensive, becoming little more than a compact and immobile lump in the grass. He picked up the trick of bracing with extra vigor in conjunction with an impending blow, almost like a parry.
Even so, with no retaliation on his part, the repeated onslaught by the fluffy terror took its toll on Squirtle. Being knocked about sapped his energy, and he emerged from his shell defeated. Just in time for a parting slap in the face. The Minccino chittered in delight. Squirtle found the sound disgusting, though he knew in other circumstances he would find the sound cute and cuddly.
"Nice try," it laughed as it pushed them in the direction whence they'd come. Weakened past the point of being able to fight, Squirtle and Quil plodded toward the path like children caught awake past bedtime.
Their training continued in that vein. Squirtle learned various intricacies of Pokémon battling that he had either never known, or were sealed away in the abyssal depths of his mind. Of certain Pokémon, judging by their appearance or the moves they used, he grew to expect corresponding qualities. Resistant to his Tackle, or resistant to his Water Gun. Quick and always able to land the first hit, or slower than him and reactionary in a battle. A fierce offensive capability with little protection, or a hearty vitality that mandated a constant slew of attacks to whittle down. In addition, he grew familiar with common techniques, and began to understand what to expect from Pokémon of a particular Type. A novice's understanding.
He grew more sure of when to use each of the few moves he knew, and the best way to execute them. Much of his learning he knew was subconscious or muscle memory, but he made it a habit to analyze each battle during the following rest period. Incorporating the resulting insight into the next battle was challenging, since thinking in the heat of battle was difficult for a variety of reasons. Still, he could tell that improvement was occurring.
Squirtle could not speak for Quil, but he could see that his reluctance to utilize his Fire techniques had all but evaporated. Witnessing his Ember's effectiveness on the Scizor the other day looked to be the turning point in Quil's opinion of his own strength. In addition to overcoming that irrational belief, Squirtle noticed marked improvements in Quil's battling. Each Tackle came harder and faster, and every Ember flurry shone brighter than the last.
Finally, Squirtle continued to formulate tactics for the pair. He recommended that Quil establish a Smokescreen against opponents that liked to close the distance and use hard-hitting physical moves. He tried to set up positioning by which they could employ the arcing-Ember-jump-reposition-Water-Gun strategy. Quil fondly called it 'Ember Arc'. Squirtle experimented with jumping or running while spewing out his water stream, but he lacked as of yet the finesse to keep it steady and actually useful while moving. He imagined Quil would face an identical problem with his Ember.
Progress in terms of distance covered was slow. Time-consuming battles coupled with a sluggish pace once back on the path meant that reaching Cavetown would take far longer than on a normal hike. Squirtle was comfortable with that fact though, since covering ground for Quil's journey was no longer the priority. And, as Squirtle had implied to Quil days ago, becoming tougher fighters might well be necessary for reaching the volcano. This training was by no perspective worthless.
A little past noon, they reached the fork in the road at which they'd met Hayzin and the rest from Blindhollow. They kept right at the fork and continued into new territory. By that point Squirtle wished for a change of scenery: a different grass species, a new dirt consistency, something. His hopes fell short as the scenery on the path remained stubbornly identical to the last few hours. Quil by contrast seemed right at home. No coincidence there since Quil lived in a place like this. At least the clouds' shapes were moderately interesting, though the skies were gradually clearing up. The pair spent much of their hike pointing out shapes in the clouds, or guessing what the other thought a cloud looked like.
Squirtle took to jumping as high as he could into the air every now and then. Previously, jumping to gain a view did not occur to him. After all, the grasses grew far above his head, blocking view of the surroundings. His restless need to see something new got him thinking, and he quickly recalled how high he'd jumped to reach that roof in Karprest.
The first time, he was once again very impressed at his vertical, so much so that he gasped in surprised pleasure. He could leap at least eight feet high! As a Pokémon not even two feet tall, his vertical leap was truly astonishing. Quil was most amused by his amazement. He commented that he would not enjoy being a human if they couldn't jump, implying that anything less than Squirtle's massive leaps could not even be considered a jump. Squirtle's own amusement grew.
From his very brief vantage points, the portion of Blind Prairie between their location on the path and the foothills and mountains ahead stretched out before his eyes. A full day's travel more would take them out of the grassland, Squirtle estimated. Up until then though, the scenery would be maddeningly uniform. On the bright side, the sameness elicited a greater desire for the excitement and unpredictability of battle. Even Quil seemed affected. Though it could be the noticeable advancement they'd been making in fighting skills, too.
For Squirtle at least, the seductive allure of becoming a powerful force to be reckoned with was hard to resist in an environment with no distractions and his unbreakable Pokémon constitution. When he examined his desire, the warnings of Chando the tormented Charizard were brought to mind. He felt they didn't quite apply to his circumstances and intent though. He had a purpose in mind that was not selfish or mindless. He was a measly Squirtle in any case, not a mighty final-evolution that could fly and breathe fire.
The sun was getting toward its time of setting. The acoustic ambiance of the Prairie began to shift as some species of Pokémon called it a day, and different ones became active. Squirtle had begun to grow accustomed to this subtle and gradual cue as an indicator of dusk, in lieu of watching the sun reach the western horizon. The pair's resting period between battles had grown closer to an hour. The day was the most physically draining to Squirtle so far, which he counted as a positive, not a negative. One more battle would do it for the day.
"Solid Ember Arc on that Linoone," said Squirtle. "The only problem was that I was positioned too far away from it to accurately land my water immediately. I'll get closer next time when I see you inhaling."
"Good idea. I should start thinking about my effective ranges as well. Ready to head in once more?" Quil suggested.
"Why go looking for a fight when you've got one right here?" said an unknown voice from farther down the path. Squirtle had not been looking ahead since he was talking to Quil, but now there stood the quadrupedal green-furred Pokémon with yellow accents known as Electrike.
The Pokémon was barely taller than Squirtle, but in his eyes, it was monstrous. The cocky smirk it wore was a badge of its status. The Electrike was an Electric-type; no further knowledge about the Pokémon was needed. Squirtle and Quil were going to be destroyed if they fought it. And if its fearless approach was an indicator, it was not going to take 'No' for an answer.