Chapter 19

Sympathy

The brisk mountain air rushed past Squirtle's face as he dove toward the mountainside where he hoped to find Quil. A flash of midnight blue in a wash of grays. Quil's back! The fire was extinguished, though – a bad sign.

Squirtle tried to reign in his terror at the free fall by whipping up the semblance of a plan. Hitting the rocky ground at full speed would be less than wise. He had nothing to land on, no equipment to stop his descent, no means of slowing down...scratch that.

Halfway to the ground, or about a second and a half of air time, he blasted out a Water Gun in a general downward direction as fast as he could. His orientation was thankfully correct to prevent immediate rotation, as he had dived face-first. The water sprinkled the rocks below in patternless chaos. The concentration of the stream was unimportant to Squirtle though. Only the amount of water he propelled away from himself mattered.

While he certainly could tell his Water Gun was slowing his fall, the pull of gravity was far mightier than any force he could produce. He was going to hit the ground very quickly in a split second. As a last-ditch effort, Squirtle pulled into his shell and tried to brace. He'd rather the rocks strike his shell than his skin, as long as he didn't crack open like an egg.

Too late. He'd barely retracted when he slammed into the ground like a meteorite, annulling his attempt to brace. If it weren't for the rigid shell that covered his chest, Squirtle was sure he would have had the wind knocked out of him for a good while. As it was, his vision and hearing were briefly overwhelmed by the spike in pressure caused by the impact. He must have bounced, because another, lesser impact rattled his senses again. After a bit more jostling, he rested motionless.

Emerging from his shell, he took a moment to recuperate and take stock of the damage. Nothing felt broken or in pain. His senses were returning to normal. His shell felt intact, but he guessed it was very scratched up. Yet despite the adrenaline, or whatever gave Pokémon that energy rush, his body felt sluggish. The fall had taken a hefty chunk of his energy, as if he'd been Tackled by the ground. Which, in a sense, he had.

Quil was certainly unconscious, as he did not move a muscle in response to Squirtle's arrival. The boulder that had struck him now stood on short legs of rock next to the Cyndaquil. It possessed four, three-fingered arms made of the same rock that composed all of its body. One of its lower pair of arms was prodding Quil, and the creature's face wore an expression of amused satisfaction. Squirtle's theory had been correct: the boulder was a Pokémon. A Pokémon that had knocked his friend off a cliff.

Squirtle yelled an angry snarl as he darted over the rough terrain toward the Pokémon. There was no path here to provide easy movement, but maybe that would work in his favor. His thoughts were pushed aside as he allowed his battle spirit to take over. He almost leaped into the air to execute a flying Tackle against the boulder Pokémon, but maintained enough sense to put his effort and emotion toward speedily approaching on foot instead. He'd be an easy target in the air.

The boulder Pokémon, having noticed his noisy approach, responded by snatching up nearby rocks with all four arms. Each hand held as big a rock as could fit in the Pokémon's hands. It tossed the rocks toward Squirtle.

He used his anger to fuel his speed as he tried to dodge around each of the missiles. Four was too many to accurately predict all at once, so Squirtle was struck by two of the rocks. One scraped against the top of his shell while the other bit into his brow.

The attack pushed Squirtle closer to collapse, but he wasn't about to give up his offensive after being hit by a single move. He finished his approach and let loose his Water Gun right into the face of his large target. His opponent didn't even try to move out of the way, but took the attack full-on. When Squirtle could keep up the technique no longer, the boulder Pokémon roared in defiance while rivulets of water ran to its underside.

Squirtle, suspecting a counterattack, looked for the largest nearby rock and ran toward it. The rock he chose was a boulder rivaling his opponent's size. There were many like it in the gray landscape.

The boulder Pokémon reached its two lower arms forward and pulled its body into a roll. Its legs and all its arms tucked perfectly against its body as it rapidly gained speed. The Pokémon bounced and rolled over the uneven ground toward Squirtle.

He wasted no time in circling around the edge of his chosen boulder to its back. His opponent did not seem able to follow Squirtle around the boulder in time, or to effectively change its course on the fly. The rugged battlefield had worked in Squirtle's favor. With a resounding CRACK, a vertical fissure surrounded by spiderwebbing chinks appeared in the boulder after being hit by the Pokémon's attack.

By the time the Pokémon's arms and legs were uncurling from its main bulk, Squirtle had scaled the split boulder and taken a stable stance. Another Water Gun streamed down at the rock Pokémon. Again it roared, this time sounding very muffled. Some distant portion of Squirtle's brain guessed that its face was pressed against the earth.

It hastily rolled itself to its feet and glared at Squirtle for a mere second before squatting down on its thick-set legs. The Pokémon looked about to heave itself into the air. Just before doing so, its eyes flicked to the side.

Following a short battle-cry, Bein completed his dash with a powerful two-handed swing of his bone into the boulder Pokémon's bulk. The swing reminded Squirtle of a motion he used to see in some sporting competition in his past life, but he didn't try to pin down what it was in the heat of battle.

The Pokémon's roar weakened to a feeble cry as it toppled off its feet. If the Pokémon had a body with a dedicated 'side', Squirtle guessed it surely would have fallen onto it. As it was, the Pokémon rested on the portion of its body right next to its feet, while its two legs hung limply in the air.

Squirtle, seeing the fight concluded, rose from his hands and placed one on his chest to try steadying his heavy breathing. In hindsight, it was surprising both that Bein's bone had not snapped with the blow, and that the attack had been enough to exhaust their foe. Surely there was more to the bone than met the eye. Was Bein's helmet similarly special, or was it merely a skull?

The boulder Pokémon's eyes slowly wandered about, first looking at Squirtle, then Bein, then at nothing in particular. Its fingers and toes twitched every now and then. The Pokémon was still conscious, but definitely incapable of doing any more harm. Bein walked calmly to its front so that they could see each other's face. He twirled his bone and pounded its butt against the ground before giving the fallen Pokémon a half-bow. A repeat of his actions following the fight against the Electrike. The boulder Pokémon blinked its sturdy eyelids seemingly in comprehension. Or maybe because it was dazed beyond any understanding.

Squirtle watched the proceedings with curiosity. Bein switched his gaze to Squirtle, and his face, though hard to read, looked almost incredulous.

"Oh," Squirtle mumbled, and descended the split boulder to stand by his fallen foe's face. Without a waist, Squirtle could not bow, so he settled for inclining his head briefly. Bein looked satisfied by this, but also confused.

If this odd show of respect is an instinctual drive, it's one that doesn't exist in my new body. Must be cultural. Strange how it persists in the wild, too. He glanced over at Quil's still-motionless body. I'll call myself a Bulbasaur before I say that this rock of a Pokémon deserves my respect. He knocked Quil off the cliff!

He wondered what Quil would think about the situation. To his consternation, he could imagine Quil saying something like: 'That Pokémon behaved perfectly normally, and I don't really fault it for attacking me. When we attacked that Tauros a couple of days ago for training, do you think it considered us to be bad Pokémon? Do you think it's planning revenge?'

Living as a Pokémon was all about violence and self-improvement. The boulder Pokémon might have used a shocking and even under-handed method as its battle plan, but that was probably its nature. Squirtle would be wrong to punish it beyond reasonable force for what it had done. He frowned, wondering how such a strange culture could make logical sense. It did, didn't it?

He sighed, putting aside his ruminations. He walked over to Quil, gently nudging him and speaking his name. Quil groaned very quietly, and shifted slightly. Squirtle was encouraged by the response, and began to renew his efforts, but Bein raised his bone between them.

"I wouldn't. Let him rest. Better for him."

Squirtle saw no sign of deception, and certainly couldn't think of a nefarious motive, so he nodded and left Quil alone. He slumped to his belly tiredly.

"Thanks again Bein. Right in the nick of time as usual."

"Heh. Your water did more than my Bone Club. Believe me, I saw it all. I only landed the finishing blow."

Warmth flooded Squirtle at the indirect praise. There was something pleasing on a primal level about having one's battling skill complimented. Assuming Quil inflicted no damage on the boulder Pokémon, Squirtle had almost single-handedly defeated not only this wild Pokémon, but the floating rock Pokémon a minute or two prior. His improvement was measurable, and that knowledge felt wonderful.

"I don't understand one thing. Our opponent, that boulder Pokémon-"

"Graveler," interjected Bein.

"Ah. That Graveler was literally made of rock, but your strike with the bone finished it off easily. Why is that? Just hitting a bone against a rock doesn't seem-"

"First of all," Bein interrupted with anger flashing in his eyes and an even rougher tone of voice than normal, "this isn't a bone. It's the lower right humerus of a Machamp. It's the bone of a fully evolved Fighter, and the core of the Pokémon's dominant striking arm. That means, in words you would understand, it is strong. In words that you wouldn't, the compact bone of the cortical layer has almost perfect ductility, resilience, and other material properties to make it stable while maintaining some flexibility. As an all-purpose tool, this bone is one of the better bones out there. That's not even going into the properties of the marrow or epiphyses."

Bein paused, and he must have seen something in Squirtle's face that caused him to calm down. He eyed the long bone he held with expert ease. "Can't dismiss this as 'a bone'. Much more to it."

Squirtle swallowed. "I apologize. I didn't...you know a lot about bones."

"My kind are called Cu-bone." For emphasis, he flicked the bone into a complete rotation and caught it again without looking. "Back to your question. Type advantage. The Graveler was obviously resistant to physical moves. I still hit it, not only because all of my attacks are like that, but because Ground beats Rock."

"Er, bones have Ground typing?"

"Bones are excavated from the earth," Bein retorted. "They're inherently connected to the ground. And I've practiced my Bone Club technique so when I correctly wield a bone, I can bring out my Ground element."

"I see. I didn't even know Rock was weak to Ground."

"Don't blame you. Most 'mon only know their own elemental strengths and weaknesses. If that."

Squirtle was sorely tempted by his curiosity to inquire about the nature of Bein's skull helmet, but worried that it was too personal of a question. Having Bein blow up again was a strong deterrent.

Quil did not show signs of waking up, even though Squirtle trusted Bein's opinion that he was recovering just fine. Since Bein expressed agitation at the proposal of waiting around until Quil awoke and could walk unassisted, Squirtle tentatively suggested they carry him and be on their merry way. The issue was that he had no idea how they would carry Quil, what with the shape of their bodies. Their arms were too short for them to dream of encircling another Pokémon. Quil was unconscious and could not hold onto anything. Bein gave it some thought too, and suggested what Squirtle thought was a ridiculous idea.

"I'll be fine," the Cubone said. "Much stronger than I look. I build, remember? Not easy work."

Squirtle tried again to sway Bein's stubborn belief. "Okay, but will you be able to balance?"

In answer, Bein growled. It was as coarse as his speaking voice, and carried a message of frustration as opposed to malice. Squirtle understood the meaning on a level below linguistic processing. His brain simply knew the growl's intent. He submitted to Bein's idea, even though he doubted it would work.

Five minutes later, Bein walked steadily up the switchback's path. He was moving a little slower than his previous hike up the cliffside, but it was still a respectable pace.

Squirtle lay belly-down on top of his skull helmet. He faced backward so that he could awkwardly grip the bony rear horns of the helmet to hold his position atop Bein's head. He also used the horns to make slight alterations to his body's orientation so that the load on top of his shell did not slip off.

Quil flopped senseless on top of Squirtle's shell. His limbs had been splayed around the curves of Squirtle's shell so that he self-stabilized to a degree by way of friction. Every time his center of gravity slid away from the center of Squirtle's shell-back, Squirtle would lean the correct way to slide Quil back to the center position. By Squirtle and Bein's efforts, Quil was carried up the path toward Cavetown.

"There are so many reasons why this shouldn't work," Squirtle sighed.

Bein grunted.

When Quil came to and felt steady enough to walk, Bein let them down. Squirtle asked Quil a barrage of questions: How many fingers am I holding up? Do you feel any broken bones? Any internal injuries? Quil's reply to his questioning was that he felt whole but tired, like every other battle he'd ever lost. In fact he found Squirtle's questions to be puzzling, which Squirtle in turn found puzzling.

Even more evidence that Pokémon were durable beyond any reasonable expectation. Quil had been impacted by a boulder-Pokémon rolling at least forty miles per hour, Squirtle had fallen about thirty feet, and Bein had walked with approximately twice his body weight atop his head. Now here they all were, perfectly healthy and ready for more.

What would it take to push a Pokémon's limits? If a Pidgeot flew Squirtle up to the clouds and dropped him, would he wake up after a long nap and wonder what was for dinner? If a hundred Charizard breathed flame onto a Caterpie, would the Caterpie survive? All evidence thus far pointed to a full recovery. While Squirtle remained curious, he decided that he might not want to learn the answer.

After thinking such thoughts, a worry grew in Squirtle's head that he could not ignore. He asked Quil and Bein to take a look at this shell and relay how damaged it was. Neither of them appeared to find the request strange, and they reported a few scratches along with one pronounced dent. Squirtle found the information slightly troubling. He resolved to avoid damaging his shell further if it was in his power to do so. He felt like a neglectful parent, even though he strongly suspected his emotions were a manifestation of his instincts as a Squirtle. The hypothesis did not frighten him as it once had.

The path curved and pointed straight toward the current mountain peak. No patches of snow had been reached yet, but they were fairly close to the snow line. The slopes became steeper and more bare. Loose rock grew more difficult to find, and it was smaller when they came across it. After a few hours of rockslide scrambling, switchback hiking, and cliff path traversals, the three travelers reached their destination at long last. The path's direction changed from pointing up the mountain, to into the mountain.

The natural formation before them was indisputably the entrance to Cavetown. A humongous cave mouth opened into the mountain's interior like the perpetually gaping jaws of a Gyarados. The darkness within the mouth stretched not only backward, but downward as well. The mountain's throat.

The entrance before them may have been the main entrance to Cavetown, but evidently there were others. Flying-type Pokémon like Pidgeotto, Pidove, or Pelipper could be seen both entering and leaving by some other opening a little ways around the curve of the mountain. Most were laden with cargo that Squirtle judged too heavy to lift during flight, until he recalled the almost physics-shattering physical capabilities of all Pokémon.

Some twenty or thirty Pokémon loitered around the cavernous entrance, all waiting in some form. From the species that Squirtle could identify, a pair of Croconaw sat on their tails playing some simple game on the ground with stones arranged in a grid. A Delibird pulled something shiny from its hollow tail to show to a small gathering of Togepi and Skitty, who gasped and giggled in wonder and delight. Most of the other Pokémon, like a Crustle and Noibat, watched the path as it crested into view of the entrance. When Squirtle's group appeared, expressions of disappointment came onto the faces of these watching and waiting Pokémon.

Notably, at the front and center of the entrance, a Donphan stood watching the path like a gatekeeper. Upon seeing the three travelers, a slight smile grew between its small tusks and it approached them on its stout legs.

"Welcome to Cavetown. Are you looking for refuge, and where are you coming from?" Her voice was extremely nasal. It resonated in her armored trunk to a degree that Squirtle found humorous, even though Quil and Bein showed no amusement. The Donphan sounded sincere, but it was obvious from the way her words flowed that she'd given that same introduction countless times.

"Us two are not," said Squirtle with a gesture at Quil. "We're travelers hoping to explore your town and maybe meet some Pokémon. We probably won't stay long."

"Guess I'm technically a refugee," Bein added. "Seen lots of 'mon heading this way. What's the living situation look like down there? Looking to help build or dig."

The Donphan's trunk uncurled as she joyously trumpeted. "Wonderful! Yes, we can use all the help that is offered, Cubone. There's probably not enough space. Hard to judge the exact state of Cavetown with all the traffic. The habitation caverns are getting packed, so you'll easily find places to get to work."

She addressed Squirtle and Quil next. "While Cavetown will not turn away any 'mon, we highly encourage each one to contribute as best as they can. Squirtle, maybe you could help mine new tunnels or caverns with your water, and Cyndaquil, maybe you could assist in the kitchens with your fire. There are plenty of tasks that need doing, you'll find one if you look. Please stay as long as you'd like, but do not take advantage of those who make Cavetown their home. We extend our hospitality and friendship to all who have come from afar, but we hope they'll contribute as they can too."

"We'll help out as best as we can!" said Quil, nodding his head vehemently.

He so reflexively wants to pay back their kindness, thought Squirtle. Nothing we can do will really help this disaster though. Helping out in Cavetown is merely palliative. Taking back the homes of these Pokémon, now that's being helpful.

He struggled to smile in gratitude at the Donphan. I hope spending some time here will elucidate some means to actually make a difference for these Pokémon.

"Enjoy Cavetown. We asked a Smeargle this morning to make up some signs for directions, so hopefully you'll be able to find your way around down there. Don't get disoriented in the crowd!" The Donphan waved them in with her trunk.

After saying their thanks, the three passed through the gargantuan jaws of the cave mouth. The ground had been smoothed by thousands of footsteps, and Squirtle's bare feet appreciated the change to gentle terrain. In seconds, they were walking at a steep downhill. Multiple sets of rough-hewn steps led down the vast tunnel, some with small steps and others with huge intervals meant for larger Pokémon. Using any of the stairs was optional, as part of the tunnel floor was a smooth slope. The whole arrangement was haphazard and imprecise. The staircases even crossed over at points, or faded into the floor before popping up again later. This organic, impromptu nature of design persisted as they ventured further into Cavetown.

Illumination was provided by the white glow of luminescent fungi growing upside-down from the ceilings and upper walls of the tunnels and caverns. Some tunnels featured massive mushrooms, but others had little more than a surface sheen of glowing growth. The amount of pure white light shed by the growth was fascinating to Squirtle. His eyes still needed to adjust to the dimmer light level, especially because every surface was black rock.

Pokémon were everywhere. More than Squirtle had ever seen, even in Swanna's lodge at Karprest. The diversity was as astonishing as the quantity. Rock-types and Ground-types were in abundance, but plenty of Pokémon traversed the tunnels that stood out like sore thumbs. No way a Politoed belonged in the heart of a mountain, and a Dodrio looked woefully out of place on legs meant for striding across open ranges. Squirtle frequently had to make way along with other small Pokémon, as large ones passed by. An Onix snaked by at one point which had Squirtle hugging the wall to make room. Airborne Pokémon like Zubat and Combee frequently zipped over the heads of ground-bound Pokémon.

Squirtle kept an eye out for Electric-types but found none. Of course, if he were one, he wouldn't head to Cavetown. He imagined the reception would become a battlefield, as any refugee would feel personally wronged by any who bore the Electric typing. If for some reason he did head into Cavetown as an Electric-type, he'd be sure to stay out of sight by keeping within the more insular caverns.

Best as Squirtle could tell, the general mood of Cavetown was bustling and hectic. Pokémon did not drag their feet here, if they had them. The snippets of conversation that Squirtle caught were terse, focused on the work that needed to be done and issues that had to be resolved. Expressions were troubled, preoccupied, or masks of hard determination. Cavetown was not a den of merrymaking, but a struggling hub of activity.

The deeper they went, the more side-tunnels they passed that led to caverns large and small. The tunnel they traveled curved this way and that, going steeply downward, then flat for a time, then downward again with an upward bump. The creators of Cavetown, it seemed, did not have an organized lay-out as one of their goals. The tunnel they traveled felt just as important as any of the side-tunnels after a couple of minutes of walking. Squirtle understood why a Smeargle had been asked to make signs for directions.

In fact, they encountered said Smeargle in the act. It was working on painting symbols onto a signboard of wood using the green paint-like secretion from its tail. Another Donphan, this one with larger tusks, carried a large stack of blank signboards with its trunk and tusks. A little bucket hung from its left tusk, and jingled with a metallic sound when it moved.

Squirtle inspected the signboard, and found to his great surprise that he could read it, albeit slowly. The symbols were the same blocky letters that he'd seen labeling the display cases in Wartortle's Seed Nursery. Each letter resembled an Unown.

"U-script," said Bein, seeing Squirtle's mouth drop open. "I can read it. Can you?"

"Yes, I can! It says to go this way for the...Diner, and...Kitchen!" Some letters like the 'H' were strangely shaped, but most were simple to read, like the 'N'. Squirtle felt very happy indeed that he was able to employ a skill from his past life in this new world.

"I was never taught, but I think I can read easy words," Quil admitted diffidently.

"Not like reading is an essential skill. That's what the picture's for." Bein pointed his bone at the neat illustration above the letters. The Smeargle had drawn an apple too, for the illiterate.

"Want to take a look?" asked Quil.

Squirtle and Bein agreed they could all use a bite to eat, and set off down a new tunnel in the direction the sign had pointed. The sound of a nail being pounded into rock echoed from the Smeargle behind them, or at least somewhere in that vicinity. The acoustics in Cavetown certainly took some getting used to. Sounds came from everywhere, so unless Squirtle could visually see the source of a sound, he often mistook the direction of its origin. He tried to stop caring about where sounds were coming from, but the effect continued to irritate him.

Signs had been erected at most tunnel junctions the further into Cavetown they went, so following the correct route to the kitchen and diner was easy enough. The way grew correspondingly more crowded. Squirtle imagined himself as a hulking Blastoise, easily pushing through the crowd like a ship's bow piercing an ocean swell. The fact remained that he, Quil, and Bein were some of the smallest Pokémon around. The Pokémon they passed didn't show any disrespect or disregard for individuals smaller than them, but physical size nonetheless made a difference in who received the right of way.

The three passed a short connecting tunnel that opened into a truly huge cavern. This tunnel had the largest amount of traffic they'd yet seen, and given the size of the cavern, it was probably a popular location. Squirtle wondered at the cavern's purpose in Cavetown, but was more taken aback by how big the cavern was. The opposite wall was hundreds of feet away.

Bein gave a single, short laugh. "Heartless Heights." Squirtle and Quil turned to him, and he explained. "Get it? These mountains are hollowed out by caverns both natural and Pokémon-made. They have no center, no core. The heights are heartless."

Quil chuckled at the cleverness of the name, as the signs led them past the packed side tunnel and down a less crowded 'corridor' of rock. The tunnel curved to the right, while at regular intervals, offshoots of the tunnel led to small caverns. Each was the size of two or three rooms: a small house. Signs indicated the first few offshoots as 'Habitation Cavern Wing L', and after a staircase leading to a level below, another sign indicated more offshoots as 'Habitation Cavern Wing M'. The trend continued, and Squirtle concluded they had reached a residential area.

In the relative quiet of these tunnels, the three took a more leisurely pace to peek inside. Each seemed to have a theme, or habitat. The first featured a shallow pool of gritty water. The gray color made the water unappetizing. Nonetheless, a Vaporeon, Mudkip, Froakie, and a couple of other Water-types that Squirtle could not identify lounged or idly floated in the waters. The Mudkip glanced at the three passers-by disinterestedly, while the others maintained unfocused stares.

"I miss my friends. I miss the shiny river stones right below the surface of the tributary," said the Froakie sullenly. A Frogadier from the edge of the cavern joined her at the pool.

"We'll return to Lofty Lake soon, Rowa. We have to stay in Cavetown for a little while longer though, okay? Think of this as a vacation."

The Froakie did not respond. Squirtle, Quil, and Bein moved on, likewise saying nothing.

The next cavern was completely dark inside. Whatever Pokémon lived inside must have removed the bioluminescent fungi, plunging the room into darkness.

"Must be Pokémon who like total darkness, right?" Squirtle whispered, so as to not disturb the inhabitants of the cavern.

Bein agreed. "Mm. Best leave them be." Again, they moved on.

At the next cavern, Squirtle noticed a change in Quil. The reason was clear. This cavern was littered with grass. The pale brown color indicated that it was dead, and had been for a long time. Even the substantial amount of grass was not nearly enough to cover the black rock of the floor. If the blades of grass were supposed to simulate a grassland environment, Squirtle judged they were doing a shoddy job.

An Oddish nudged some of the dead grass with a foot as it looked glumly down at the ground. It didn't appear to notice the onlookers. A Chikorita rested with its eyes open on a collected pile of grass. Even with all the grass beneath the Chikorita, the pile was woefully inadequate for support. It did not supply even two inches of cushioning from the unforgiving black rock beneath. A trio of Deerling could be seen having a subdued conversation near the back of the cavern. Whatever the topic, Squirtle noticed it was not one that brought smiles to their faces.

He glanced at Quil, and could tell through posture that his friend was affected by the misery to which they were bearing witness. Quil spoke quietly.

"This could have been me. Oddish, Chikorita, Deerling, they're all familiar species where I live. If I hadn't been sent on my Pilgrimage to Iyrodenin, maybe I would have ended up in a place like this, far from home." He laughed once, mirthlessly. "My carefree and steady life taken from me just the same as if I'd left home."

While Quil's reaction to the scene seemed to be commiseration, Squirtle felt a flare of anger on his behalf. These Pokémon had had their way of life taken from them, their world turned upside-down by Electric-types. The situation was wrong, so wrong.

"Let's get going," he said. "The diner and kitchen should be up ahead."

Signs directed them out of 'Habitation Cavern Wing N', but not before a commotion at the end of the wing drew their attention. New caverns were actively being hollowed out and shaped by a crew of Pokémon. Naturally, they were mostly Ground-types digging and mining away the rock. In accordance with the Donphan's suggestion to Squirtle, a couple of Water-types carved the rock using streams of water instead of claws and tools. Pokémon hauled away loose rock in carts, and used other construction devices to facilitate the excavataion that Squirtle couldn't name.

"Hydraulic mining," said Bein with what seemed like a smile at Squirtle. He approached the workers with an appraising eye, and spoke briefly to one of the more vociferous diggers. When he quickly returned, explaining that he would join the miners' efforts later on, the three continued and finally arrived at the diner and kitchen.

The cavern was one of the larger ones they'd seen, though the ceiling was disproportionately low. As a result, the glowing fungi illuminated the room all the better. Tables filled the room, all covered in a disorderly array of plates and fare, and each at different heights. Some chairs were present, but most Pokémon ate standing or whatever passed for standing in those with odd body types. Utensils were absent, and some even ate without their hands.

After all, how would an Ekans grasp its meal?

The aroma of all the unknown but enticing dishes had Squirtle's mouth watering. The origin of the food was a set of apertures into an adjacent room, like serving windows. Flashes of fire and frenetic motion could be seen within, so Squirtle assumed that was the kitchen. Steam appeared to be pooling in the ceiling of the kitchen, but slowly draining into a hole that led upward. No doubt the room was still too stuffy for him to handle. The Donphan's suggestion for a Fire-type like Quil to help in the cooking suddenly took on a new level of sense.

"Amazing," Bein commented as they took spots in a short line leading to one of the serving windows. "So much food, company. Freely shared. No wonder Cavetown is where everyone's going."

Finding a free table took all of a minute. Squirtle examined the food he'd been served by a distracted Pansear. He was at a complete loss as to what ingredients were incorporated, though by structure alone, the main dish appeared to be a casserole. If his body could handle being beat up in a hundred ways, surely it could handle exotic and new foods. A single bite relieved him of his worry, as the food was delicious. He spent a few minutes simply isolating each individual flavor in his mouth to appreciate it. His eyes became half-lidded, and a complacent smile stole onto his face.

Quil was unusually taciturn. Squirtle fancied he saw a brooding expression in the Cyndaquil's face. Squirtle had proof from the past that being around unfamiliar Pokémon was not bothersome to Quil, unless they were Electric-types, so he knew that was not the cause. Maybe he was still upset at the fate of the Pokémon in the room of dead grass. Squirtle almost allowed himself to fall into anger and discontentment as he pictured the room, but made a conscious decision to relax and enjoy their arrival in Cavetown.

After the casserole-like dish, Squirtle took the second and last food item from his plate in hand: a kebab of fruits, and possibly vegetables. Telling the difference was an impossible challenge. He took a bite from a plump but tough berry of some kind, but decided that it was too raw to enjoy properly. With spontaneous abandon, he leaned away from the table to clandestinely roast the berry over Quil's flames. His friend appeared oblivious, which was all the better, as Squirtle feared what his reaction would be to being treated as a living barbecue.

A shifty-looking Pokémon with gemstones for eyes noticed, however, and mimicked Squirtle's action with its own kebab. It grinned, revealing sharp teeth. Squirtle wagered the smile was intended to be one of shared amusement, but it came off as disturbing. He smiled back dutifully, before breaking 'eye' contact and focusing on the cooking berry. Another chomp assured him that he'd made the correct culinary judgment; the berry's taste had improved.

Bein, who had been quickly and methodically consuming his portion, stood up from the chair he'd snagged. His plate bore only crumbs now.

"Leaving you now. Time to lend my skills where they're needed. It's why I came here."

Squirtle and Quil set down their food. Squirtle had known this was coming, but Bein's departure still saddened him. Plus, he was a Ground-type, and Squirtle knew he'd feel less safe outside of Cavetown without Bein around.

"I wish you luck with your efforts here, Bein, and wherever you go next."

"Thanks for traveling with us Bein," added Quil. "If you, er, want to come with us on our next adventure, you're always welcome!" Once again, he sounded embarrassed about the topic.

Bein regarded them for a moment. The skull helmet made his expression nigh indecipherable. Then he nodded seriously. "Thanks. Fight well. I mean that. Your efforts out there will affect those in here." He gestured broadly at all the Pokémon in Cavetown.

Squirtle swallowed nervously as an intangible weight settled onto the top of his shell. Responsibility, importance. Bein appeared to notice, and perhaps that observation was what made him linger at their table for a few seconds longer. Yet he said nothing. He left the table without another word. The assortment of Pokémon in the diner swallowed up view of Bein's small form in seconds.

Squirtle raised the kebab again, but his appetite was gone. Bein's departure was a reality check. Quil and Squirtle were two Pokémon among hundreds in a sprawling cave complex. What was their next move?