Chapter 18

Uncertainty

"Did you enjoy the rain, Bein?" asked Quil the next day, as the three hiked the path toward Cavetown.

Quil chuckled at his rhyme joke from Squirtle's right. When they had set out, he'd stayed well on the side of the path to allow Squirtle or Bein to take front and center. Bein walked on Squirtle's left. Like Quil, he'd made room for Squirtle in the path's center. Squirtle figured he did not want to separate the two who had been traveling together for days. The Cubone replied with no humor in his voice.

"No. The rain soaks into the earth, so even when I dig myself underground I still get wet. Awful."

Squirtle didn't take the center position on the path by personal choice, but as a side-effect of Quil's and Bein's choices. He felt thankful that the path was more than wide enough for them to walk three abreast, because the mental image of him taking the lead in a single-file march made him uncomfortable.

He took a go at some 'Type humor' which he supposed was common among Pokémon.

"Water's not so bad Bein. In fact, it's an element I hold dear to my heart."

Bein did not so much as grunt in response, though he got a small chuckle out of Quil.

"Why did you sneak around the Electrike through the grass during the battle?" asked Bein, effectively changing the topic and smothering the light mood.

Squirtle formulated an answer with caution. Whatever reason Bein had for being curious, Squirtle did not want to alienate him by saying the wrong thing.

"For the same reason I knocked him out after the battle. I really don't want to be electrified again. I went through the grass so that he wouldn't be able to hit me with a move as easily, and so that his attention would be drawn to you instead. I thought it was a fine strategy, since you're immune to electricity."

Bein was not appeased. "A fine strategy," he repeated slowly. "I didn't think the Squirtle species was known for tricky fighting methods. Like repositioning using grass as cover."

What was Bein trying to say? Was he upset that they'd won the battle dishonorably?

"Squirtle aren't, but this Squirtle is," Quil put in. "He's...not like other Pokémon. We've been using strategy and communication during our battles, and it's worked out well for us! I know it sounds strange, and it felt strange too, at first. But I can't deny how effective it is to fight with more than your gut feelings and instincts."

Squirtle did not like the direction this conversation was going. Quil might not have known what a human was, but the more worldly Bein might have heard of his kind. Whether he had a negative or positive conception of humans, Squirtle did not want to find out. He preferred to be identified as a Pokémon for the time being.

"I had an idea about how to better defeat the Electrike, so I suggested it. Do you think I behaved wrongly Bein?" He'd meant to sound logical and aloof, but had sounded more accusatory than intended.

"Not sure. Never seen a 'mon say or do what you said and did. Your actions..." He glanced over at Quil for a second. "...make sense. But it's hard to believe you can completely defy your instincts. From what I've seen of your line, the way other Squirtle think and battle isn't at all how you do."

"Feel free to think on it, or even ask me any questions you have. I know I'm different from other Pokémon, like Quil said. I hope you don't mind if I make tactical suggestions should we end up in another battle together."

"That reminds me," said Quil. "Squirtle and I have been alternating between covering the miles and practicing our moves against wild 'mon. We want to become tougher, so that, uh, we," Suddenly he was stumbling over his words. "It doesn't matter. That's what we've been doing though. Would you mind if we kept doing that? With you on our side, we might win for once!"

Quil was reluctant to reveal their reason for training. Why? Perhaps simple embarrassment at taking on a task so absurdly overwhelming: rectifying the Electric catastrophe. Anyhow, Squirtle wouldn't divulge their reason if Quil had some purpose in not telling.

"Hm," Bein grunted. "I wanted to reach Cavetown as soon as possible. I'll battle if a wilder stops us, of course. Otherwise, I'm moving forward. Sorry. I have no reason to improve my moves right now. I'm a builder, not a fighter."

Quil replied with a quiet "Oh."

Squirtle was disappointed too. The taste of progress was still fresh in his mouth from the previous day, which was filled to the brim with battle practice. Given enough days like that, the fruits of their labor would pay off. On the other hand, avoiding battles en route to Cavetown would only set them back one or two days. The previous day he'd visually confirmed that within a few hours they'd be out of the Prairie. That would surely put them close to Cavetown, and the end of Bein's no-training restriction. Squirtle didn't know how far out of Blind Prairie they would find Cavetown, but couldn't imagine it taking longer than another day.

Wild Pokémon might seek them out on the way, instead of vice versa. It wouldn't be the first time. Once they were out of the grasses and the range of vision was much higher, the battle frequency would hopefully increase. Pokémon wouldn't be able to hide from each other as easily with no tall grasses obscuring the landscape.

"That's alright," said Squirtle. "We'll not look for battles until Cavetown then, if that's fine with you Quil."

Quil agreed, and the three continued their walk together. Quil asked Bein about the homemade salad ingredients he'd set on the table back in Karprest. Soon they were discussing food combinations and preparation techniques that had Squirtle's mouth close to watering, even though he only recognized about a quarter of the raw ingredients that were mentioned. He could not contribute much to the conversation, but was more than happy to learn.

The early afternoon saw them exit Blind Prairie at long last. The grasses thinned out and grew shorter as other vegetation took their place. Bitterbrush, needlegrass, and other common herbaceous plants flourished on the foothills ahead. The path curved to slope generally upward. In minutes, the grassland had been replaced by totally different flora. Here, the scenery was more verdant, and the grass was a half foot long at the maximum. Off-road travel would be easy if desired, as only bushes and other small plants dotted the rounded landscape. Pine trees stood higher up the slopes like sentinels watching over Blind Prairie. They guarded the way to the snow-capped peaks beyond.

The light breeze that used to sweep the tips of Blind Prairie's grasses became a legitimate wind out in the exposed countryside. The wind carried the sounds of wild Pokémon now and then, but they were less frequent than in the Prairie. New scents tickled Squirtle's nostrils, and the feeling of the wind at his back lifted his heart. He grinned at the path ahead.

Bein displayed more interest than exuberance, and Quil looked only mildly cheered by the change.

"This region of foothills and mountains is called Heartless Heights," the Cyndaquil said. "Don't ask me why. The area doesn't strike me as a harsh place to live. Cavetown is supposed to be a day or two's travel along this path toward the mountain peaks over there. If we see a big scary cave mouth, then we've arrived!"

Squirtle shook his head wonderingly. "Quil, how do you remember all of the details of your journey? You know the routes, the shortcuts, the travel times, the names; did you really memorize it all before you left?"

"No way I was leaving home without being prepared. I dreaded getting lost, and I wanted to get the journey over with as soon as possible. So I spent an entire day memorizing the details before I left. I had my father quiz me that night," he said wistfully.

As the day wore on, Squirtle was surprised to realize the terrain was actually offering his body a challenge. While the path did not lead directly toward the mountains' peaks, the path's slope was steep enough to turn the hike into an uphill struggle. Switchbacks punctuated the long expanses of hillside straightaways. Squirtle did not think he could sweat, which he considered to be ironic since he was a Water-type, but his breath came hot and heavy on the more difficult sections. He tried to see the bright side by comparing his current fitness to the much inferior stamina of any human.

With the increasing altitude, the character of the environment took on what Squirtle called "that unmistakable mountain atmosphere". He felt isolated and exposed on the plain expanse of the slopes. Bein was more worried about how far they were from the bedrock and how thin the air was. Quil was fixated on the nonstop breeze that swept over them, chilling the air they breathed.

The journey was not entirely uneventful. Quil spotted and pointed out a flock of Spearow to the east a few hills over, and they encountered a Pokémon similar to a Yanma resting on a flat stone. It scuttled out of sight immediately and was not seen again. Bein called it a Vibrava, a Pokémon that one day might become the mighty Flygon. Squirtle wondered if it would have engaged in battle had there only been only one traveler, or if its nature was to avoid any open confrontations. Quil and Bein did not claim to know, but agreed that all Pokémon had to battle at some point if they wanted to become successful in the wilderness or evolve one day.

Other than the wild denizens of Heartless Heights, the three spotted Pokémon that could only be travelers on paths of adjacent hills and paths that connected to their own. The Pokémon used the measured stride of a journey with a long road ahead, not the quick movements or cautious steps of a Pokémon living in the area. Most of the travelers appeared to be heading toward the vicinity of Cavetown. Not a single one was heading downhill.

Squirtle identified a Hitmonlee and Tyrogue far ahead before they vanished amid the pine trees farther up the mountainside. A squat yellow Pokémon that Quil called a Makuhita trailed them a good distance, coming from Blind Prairie. Later in the day, they could see a small group of the Clefairy species line partially silhouetted on a mountain ridge to the west. In Squirtle's growing geographical picture of the surrounding lands, he imagined they were coming from some locale between the Karp river and the western edge of Heartless Heights' mountains and hills.

While most of them walked empty-handed, some lugged what must have been their scant belongings along with them. One Torchic appeared to be wearing a scarf or choker, but Squirtle couldn't be sure from the distance separating them.

He could not think of any decent reason to suggest altering their group's pace so that they could intercept a fellow traveler, and neither Quil nor Bein brought it up either. Everyone would likely end up in the same place: Cavetown. He had the feeling that there was something he wanted from Pokémon other than Bein and Quil, but he chalked it up to his natural inquisitiveness. The feeling soon passed. So they continued hiking in their small group, making no efforts to bump into any other traveling Pokémon.

"Refugees, all of 'em," Bein speculated as they peered westward through the sun's rays at the Cleffa, Clefairy, and Clefable hiking upward on a narrow winding path.

"I can't think of any other reason for Pokémon to be traveling up here," said Squirtle.

"Actually," said Quil, "I can think of a few! Sometimes Pokémon will leave home to practice fighting against opponents that live in different habitats if they want a change from their own. Or there are traveling traders, carriers, 'mon visiting friends and family. I heard stories of Pokémon explorers too, but I don't know how true those are. Sounds too strenuous, especially if you don't have wings."

"The way they carry themselves. The sluggishness. Refugees, I'm telling you," Bein insisted.

"If they are all refugees," said Squirtle, "it's such a shame. No doubt it's the Type imbalance that's brought it on. You were right Bein, when you said Cavetown was a refugee hotspot. I hope the victims can return home before long."

"Somehow, we'll fix things Squirtle!" said Quil enthusiastically, followed by a quieter, "Whoops."

A couple of seconds of tense hiking passed before Bein responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Um. Well. Squirtle and I want to help out the 'mon in places like Blindhollow and Karprest. The Electric boost has twisted up the way of life for so many 'mon. We felt obligated to help..." he trailed off.

Much to Quil's apparent relief and surprise, Bein's tone was not skeptical or belittling. He stopped walking to face Quil fully.

"How? What can you do?"

Squirtle's surprise was no less than Quil's. He quickly recovered, emboldened by Bein's serious query, and continued where Quil left off. "Our plan was to train ourselves to become fighters worthy of esteem, learn about Cavetown's position in this debacle, and consider joining up with other like-minded Pokémon to set things right." His voice lost some of its confidence as he moved to the next part of his speech. "Then, we'd battle or talk down the troublemakers like Raizula and Stolt, or rally the townsfolk, or we'll do something. We haven't established our plans that far in advance. It's a work in progress."

"Hm. Nothing wrong with some improvisation. No project worth doing can account for every changing circumstance, in my experience. Those are some very bold aspirations. I wonder if you two can make a difference."

Bein eyed the two up and down, but his eyes lingered on Squirtle most. He looked back in Blindhollow's direction, and then toward Cavetown. Squirtle wondered what comparisons he was making in his head, what calculations and estimations the down-to-earth Cubone favored. Squirtle found himself caring about this Pokémon's opinion more than at any other time in his short life as a Pokémon. Something about the Cubone's demeanor and manner of speech signified authority to Squirtle. He had an air of respectability about him, and undeniable good sense.

"I'm a crafter of protected, safe homes," said Bein softly. "I don't soothe the restless, I don't smother the fire. I can be the Heal Pulse in this situation, but I won't be the aggressor. Don't even like traveling."

Was he talking to them, or to himself? Squirtle noted Bein's left hand fidgeting with his bone, and the claws of his right hand gripping at what wasn't there. He looked toward Blindhollow again with narrowed eyes before speaking in a more sure voice to Squirtle and Quil.

"Regarding your goal: fight well. I'm eager to learn about the situation in Cavetown too. Let's not waste time." He turned his skull-clad head up the path and set off once more.

"Would be great to have a Grounder with us for the plan," murmured Quil. "Especially Bein. He's a great 'mon."

Squirtle eyed the Cubone's thick tail as it counter-balanced his walking movements along the difficult path. "I thoroughly agree. Unfortunately, I have a hunch that Bein isn't the type to change his mind. Cavetown's supposed to be home to plenty of other Ground-types at least, right?"

This didn't appear to mollify Quil, and it didn't mollify Squirtle either if he was being honest with himself. Quil made a vague "Mm", before they trotted forward to catch up to Bein. They spoke of their ambitious plan no more.

The three decided unanimously to take breaks every now and then as needed. On the threshold of entering the treeline, Quil called for one such break so that he could take a final look at Blind Prairie now a respectable distance below and behind them.

"We can see most of the Prairie from here. Doesn't it look like a huge yellow lake? With some green and brown color mixed in?"

"The shadow of the mountains at our back can't even cover all of it," Squirtle added as he leaned his shell back against one of the shorter pines. He'd once again been surprised at how tall the trees were as a diminutive Squirtle.

The three travelers watched the Prairie for a silent moment before Quil spoke again. "Hard to believe there's anything wrong with the world. Everything looks peaceful from up here."

That comment added a depressing tinge to Squirtle's tranquil appreciation of the scenery. No matter how high up they were, or how orderly and beautiful the land looked, he knew there were Pokémon among those grasses whose lives had been completely upended a few days ago. And nothing those Pokémon could do would change that.

Bein turned to face up the path. "We should move." He moved onward, occasionally using his bone as a walking stick to give himself an extra push around a corner or over an obstacle. Squirtle and Quil turned away from the sight of the grassland and entered the domain of the pines.

Curiously, the path became straight and true once it wove into the treeline. Unlike the rest of Heartless Heights thus far, the path led directly toward the snowy mountain peaks. No switchbacks, no turning to either side, and no path artifice designed to ease the sharp elevation gain. It was as if whoever originally forged the path wanted to spend as little time beneath the boughs of the pine trees as possible.

The forest was a gloomy place, if only because of the amount of light that made it past the filter of the pine needles. The forest floor was especially dark because of the late hour of the day. Quiet, dim, and unfamiliar, Squirtle was hardly fond of the new environment. He consoled himself by recalling how thin the strip of forest was that they had to pass through. The bulk of the forest lay on other mountains or maybe on the other side of the range. The trees only grew on a relatively narrow altitude range on their path.

"This must be Weird Wood," Quil said, peering up at the branches. "The forest covers big portions of these mountains, but the part we're in is really small. We should make it out the other side shortly."

"What's weird about them?" asked Squirtle, feigning a casual air to keep his spirits up.

"A good number of Shadows and Ghosts like this Wood, according to what I learned. That's all," Quil replied in a similarly indifferent manner.

Squirtle wondered if Quil was playing the same casual game. He resisted the urge to ask further about the Pokémon rumored to inhabit Weird Wood. Fear was contagious, and Squirtle did not wish the affliction on Quil or Bein. He settled for reassuring himself that Ghost-type Pokémon weren't actually dead spirits haunting the world of the living, and Dark-type Pokémon couldn't turn invisible and sneak around without making a sound. To the best of his knowledge.

Quil had become less adept at foraging for food once they left the grassland, and in the forest it was no different. Still, he proved to have a few tricks in his noggin that he claimed were a combination of his father's directions, and his natural hunches. Bein did not join in any foraging, but seemed distracted to the point of ignoring his appetite. He remained grateful for any food Quil produced. Even Squirtle managed to find violet berries growing in the forest, and though neither of his companions knew their name, they proved pungent but edible. Their juice inside was unusually cold.

The atmosphere wore them down. Squirtle could see it. The most obvious tell was the way they each had their eyes glued to the branches above their heads. A Pokémon that lived in the Wood would no doubt have the skill to hide itself effectively in the canopy. None of them would want to take a surprise attack on the head, so they continually eyed that blind spot. Squirtle wanted to check his back every now and then, but refrained because Quil and Bein would be able to notice him acting more paranoid than them.

Perhaps he had good reason. The darkness of twilight infiltrated the Wood, turning the few patches of sunlight into shadow. Squirtle swore he could see a pair of oval, red eyes blink at him from the darkness of the trees, but they vanished before he could point them out to the others. A few minutes later, an angry red eye flashed at him in his peripheral vision, but he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him after the earlier incident. And even if they were real, and did belong to Pokémon, so what? What could a wild Pokémon or two do to them?

"Fine stopping here?" Bein proposed.

"Sure," said Squirtle and Quil quickly, and at the same time. Quil chuckled, but Squirtle knew it to be forced.

As night arrived, Squirtle had been torn between proposing a stop and suggesting they make it through Weird Wood before resting. However, the darkness was becoming fairly absolute, and would make continued walking problematic. Not to mention terrifying. He was reluctant to suggest they stop, too, since Bein was acting so driven to make it to Cavetown as soon as possible.

Some distant voice in Squirtle's head told him to climb a tree and sleep sitting on the branches, since sleeping on a forest floor was unsafe. As Bein dug them another hole, Squirtle mused at how useless advice like that was now that he was a durable and resilient Pokémon.

Quil and Squirtle each said their "Good night" and received a grunt of agreement from Bein, but Squirtle took some time to sufficiently calm himself to fall asleep. Many minutes passed in their cozy hole before Squirtle had the impression that he was close to drifting off.

Now he was walking through Weird Wood. Off the path. Alone amongst the towering trunks and winding branches. Absolute silence weighed him down, driving his feet into the dirt. The air he breathed in bore a cold that chilled him from his lungs outward. The sensation was unusual, as no experience as a Pokémon had succeeded in actually making him uncomfortably cold. He walked past tree after tree, surrounded by darkness.

Suddenly he spotted the path. A welcome relief. Walking through the forest was a very trying experience. Alone on the path, Quil stood completely still, watching him approach.

"Squirtle. I'm here. Come. Come."

Squirtle grinned and laughed, content that he'd be safe and with Quil again at last. He rushed forward, weaving through the trunks to reach the path.

Wooden fingers snaked down from the darkness above Quil. His friend did not seem to notice.

"Come. I'm here."

Squirtle tried to shout a warning, but the cold returned twofold. His throat was too dry. His chest was frozen. He threw a hand forward, and pointed a claw above Quil, intent on warning him.

Quil did not react. The wooden appendages reached him, whether they were root, branch, or something else entirely. They curled tightly around all four limbs, and constricted in a sudden jerk. Quil's mouth opened in a scream, but no sound issued forth. The wooden fingers retracted toward the dark canopy, lifting Quil off the ground just as Squirtle reached him.

Quil began to sink into the blackness above as if it were tar. He was sinking in, his body contorted by the passion of his screaming. Still there was silence. Squirtle jumped, straining to grab Quil's flailing legs, but the cold and the quiet deterred his efforts. He could not reach. Above Quil, a massive red eye flashed open, brilliant as the sun.

"Quil!" shouted Squirtle as he shot out of his shell. His tail and left leg plowed into Quil, while his forehead and left arm bumped into Bein. Squirtle scrambled up the sides of the hole, blinking his eyes rapidly to get them to work. He couldn't see Quil, couldn't make out the legs he had to reach. He shouted again as he jumped upward, blindly groping.

"Squirtle? What's happening?!" said Quil hoarsely from below.

Squirtle glanced into the hole. Bein was still sleeping like a rock. Quil was rising to all fours, ready for a battle. Squirtle's head felt like it was filled with wet cotton. When realization finally dawned, he slipped back into the hole, and muttered something about bad dreams.

The next day, Squirtle learned first-hand that Pokémon need sleep just as much as humans, if not more. The poor night's sleep dragged down his whole morning. He hoped he'd be feeling more like himself later in the day. For that to happen, they needed to leave Weird Wood behind. Even in daylight, the trees exuded a sinister vibe to Squirtle. On every tree they passed, he imagined the bark splitting open to grin with pointed teeth at his exposed back.

His discomfort lasted no longer than an hour. The forest floor became uneven, its topography unpredictable. Brief rises changed into shelves, then overhangs. Exposed rock and loose pebbles replaced fertile soil. The trees grew shorter, and the room between them more spacious. Evidently the rocky, irregular soil did not support forest growth. The three travelers came into a more open environment; this was the end of Weird Wood.

The world ahead was entirely shades of gray. Rocks of all shapes and sizes littered the ground, all of them gray. Pokémon would have a million and one hiding spots among the pebbles, boulders, and massive, hard-edged extrusions of the mountainside. Every angle was jagged, except for the beautiful white snow that blanketed the mountainside much higher up. The path was dirt no longer, but a whitish rockdust weaving along the treacherous mountainsides.

Squirtle heaved a sigh of relief as they examined the new surroundings. The thoughts of misfortune and malevolence he'd had in the Wood really were a product of his own mind and nothing else. Not a single Pokémon had attacked, and nothing supernatural had occurred.

I can't become my own worst enemy. If we're going to take on these intimidating Electric bullies, I'll be facing more daunting foes than the creepy atmosphere of some forest. Hopefully I won't have any more nightmares from a bit of darkness and some red eyes, whether they belonged to a real Pokémon or not.

"This looks like it better fits the name Heartless Heights," commented Quil, as they rested at the last handful of trees.

"Should be almost to Cavetown, right?" Squirtle asked, to which Quil replied an affirmative.

Bein hefted his bone up onto a shoulder. "I like this place. Paradise for Rocks, obviously, and Grounders too I bet. If we run into a 'mon with the wild in its eyes, your water will be effective," he said, looking in Squirtle's direction.

"And I'll be as useful as a Metapod. Sorry," added Quil, though he seemed to have good humor about the situation.

"I'll do my best," said Squirtle with what he hoped was reassuring confidence.

The group's pace slowed in this new section. Possibly, the reason was that their destination was so assuredly close. Or, the anxiety that the Wood brought was now left behind, allowing a more tranquil walking speed. More practically speaking, the dangers of cutting oneself on an exposed rock edge or slipping on a loose rock encouraged a more cautious pace.

The higher altitude made exposure to the cold wind and solitary quiet all the more noticeable. Physical challenges took Squirtle's mind off the world around him, which he saw as both a blessing and a curse. The path became a demanding switchback leading up the face of a cliffside, the largest switchback they had yet encountered. Between each of the many bends, the path increased the altitude by at least ten feet. Squirtle heard heavy, measured breathing from his two companions as well as his own mouth.

At the third bend of the cliffside's path, a grumbling voice called down a couple of words from up the mountainside. The source was from a portion of the switchback further along, somewhere on the next segment of the path. Squirtle could not identify what the words were were due to the unfamiliar speaker, but they sounded like "Our spot!" or "Do not!"

As one, the three turned their heads to face the voice, but no Pokémon stood out from the background of gray rock.

Quil rose higher up on his legs. "I hear...movement from up ahead."

Two seconds later, Squirtle could hear it too. An erratic rumbling. As it grew louder, he could tell it was closer to a staccato of dull thuds, not a continuous rumble. From out of the rocks, the source of the rumble came rolling out.

A large gray boulder twice Squirtle's height bounced down the rocky slope, scraping against the larger rocks as it rolled. Every bash sent chips of stone shrapnel flying. The irregularities on the boulder's surface were a blur, such was its speed. Now on the path, a fine white dust cloud arose in its wake. In a few blinks of the eye it had nearly reached them.

The narrow path of the cliffside switchback allowed little room to maneuver. Bein hugged the cliff on the inner side of the path. Squirtle gave his body up to his surprise, and reflexively fell to all fours for dodging purposes. Quil, on the exposed outer edge of the path, tensed up with his forelimbs on the ground too.

The path must have had some imperceptible angle to it, reasoned Squirtle, as the boulder's course altered toward the path's exterior. Squirtle twitched his muscles and tumbled left toward Bein and the cliffside. His shell clattered against the rocks.

He recovered and locked his eyes on the boulder again just in time to see it slam into Quil. He'd had nowhere to dodge except the empty space off the cliff. He'd chosen instead to stay on the path. Quil and the boulder both shot off the edge of the switchback where it bent back upon itself, and plunged toward the rocky mountainside out of view and far below.

"Quil!" shouted Squirtle, reaching forth his claws as if to latch onto Quil's forelimb. The scene from his nightmare flashed in his mind's eye. The portion of the switchback they had ascended to was at least thirty feet higher than where Quil and the boulder would have landed. Squirtle had to follow after them. How would his Squirtle body fare with a fall of thirty feet though?

Bein made a warning noise and Squirtle returned his attention to the path. The Cubone settled into a crouch. His bone was clutched tightly in his left hand, though he let the other end rest against the dusty ground. A rock about Squirtle's size with two arms and hands curled into fists came toward them from up the path, the same direction from which the boulder had approached. It was floating a foot off the ground, and bore eyes and a mouth set in an expression of combat readiness. Only Pokémon had faces. Squirtle had a vague recollection about a Pokémon like this one, though he did not know the species name.

What about Quil? He had to know if Quil was alright. Investigating would mean leaving Bein with this hostile wild. That was unacceptable. Now was the time to fight. Speed was of utmost importance. What was the fastest way to decide this battle?

Calculations. Bein, current evidence points to strong melee offensive. Enemy too far for his immediate engagement. Wait: enemy almost definitely vulnerable to water. Still, enemy too far for guaranteed accuracy with Water Gun. Need to close the distance, quick!

His eyes jumped to Bein. "Throw me!"

He dashed to Bein, grabbing the other end of the bone with one hand then lying down to give Bein an easier time of hefting his body. Immediately, he felt foolish. Squirtle was physically larger than the Cubone, and he expected to be tossed with ease?

Bein looked at Squirtle as if struck dumb. He made no move to follow the command. Squirtle broke eye contact, feeling absolutely inane. As an afterthought, he withdrew into his shell, still clutching the bone with one hand. Maybe that would give him better aerodynamics, or help Bein out somehow. What an idiot he was. He released the bone, and prepared to emerge out of his shell and attack the wild Pokémon in a less ridiculous manner.

The bone began to move just as Squirtle released it. He hastily took hold once again, staying firmly in his shell. His narrow view of the outside began to shift sideways, faster and faster. He squeezed the bone tighter. His weight was being pulled away by what felt like centripetal force. Bein must have been spinning in place, rotating Squirtle faster and faster around his body.

His grip was slipping. He extended his arms out of his shell to grab the bone with both hands. Still, the force was incredible. From the rotational motion alone, his tail and legs were nearly pulled out of his shell. By contrast, his head was pressed into his chest. If blood was what flowed through his Squirtle body, then its circulation was definitely being disturbed by the force. He had to let go! But he had to let go at the right time in order to be sent toward the enemy.

Bein decided for him. Abruptly the force was gone. Squirtle was a projectile, soaring through the air faster than he had ever moved. He still gripped the bone with two hands, so Bein must have released it. The other end whistled in the wind.

Squirtle's field of view was too narrow. It was impossible to see where he was going. He popped his head out along with the rest of his limbs. The eyes of the rock's face grew wide. Squirtle oriented as best as he could in flight before impact.

THONK! went Squirtle's shell as he plowed into his opponent. The bone was torn from his grasp, which was just as well, as Squirtle grabbed the rock Pokémon with all four limbs. Even his tail curled below the rock to help grip. He felt like a bloodsucking monster stuck to the Pokémon's face as they both went crashing backward with Squirtle's momentum. The dust plume created by the rolling boulder had scarcely dissipated when a new one was created by their sliding and tumbling up the next portion of the switchback.

A couple of seconds later, when Squirtle could think again, he remembered his initial plan, and thus his next action. Water was squeezed into his throat, and he contracted all the right muscles for an immediate, full-blast, violent stream of water to erupt from his mouth. There was no need to spend time or effort on narrowing or aiming the blast. His mouth was an inch from his opponent.

The reactionary force of the Water Gun was too powerful for Squirtle to maintain his death-grip on the wild Pokémon. He separated from his foe like a rocket, yet remained connected by the raging water stream. Squirtle terminated the flow as he rotated out of control somewhere in the air above his opponent. After a moment, he met the ground with a crash. He was completely disoriented after all the stopping, starting, and spinning.

He reasoned that he was on his shell-back, as Bein came into view by occluding a portion of the sky. He offered Squirtle his left hand. After being pulled to his feet, he located the wild Pokémon. With its eyes and mouth closed, it looked much like an inanimate rock with arms. It could have been a twisted sculptor's work of art.

The Pokémon was no doubt senseless. Its main body was completely soaked. Squirtle's water was forming a little puddle on the dusty path beneath it. The little cracks and imperfections in the Pokémon's exterior were damp with water that had seeped in. Like erosion in miniature, the water looked to be exacerbating the flaws, and disrupting the structure of the Pokémon's surface.

The enemy was definitely no longer a threat. That meant something, something important. Then Squirtle remembered. He jogged woozily toward the edge of the switchback where Quil and the boulder had gone over. His equilibrium was quickly coming under his control, and he was battle-ready once more.

The encounter with the floating rock Pokémon reminded Squirtle that appearances were deceiving. Quil was on fire, but suffered no harm. A Scyther had wings, but appeared unable to truly fly. Rocks and boulders were often inanimate objects, but they didn't have to be. Quil could be in serious trouble, and not only from the strike and the fall. Squirtle had no time to lose.

"I'm going after him!" he called over his shell-back to Bein and hoping that he was heard. Taking the switchback down would be safer but much too slow. Thinking of a better idea than what he was about to do would also be safer, but much too slow.

Squirtle ran. The precipice approached. Beyond was the open air, and the mountainside's barren gray landscape of rock far below. Squirtle did not slow.

Attempting to follow Quil's trajectory as close as he could, Squirtle executed a running dive off the edge of the switchback. Giddy terror replaced all previous thoughts. His heart felt like it had leaped into his throat.

All the while, he plummeted.