Chapter 32
Chill
Squirtle awoke with nightfall. He gingerly emerged from his shell and winced at the mix of soreness and exhaustion. The beautiful colors filtering through the western canopy indicated that the sun had set moments ago. He looked down, finding himself in the center of a small crater near the stream.
"Welcome back, Squirtle," said Quil with exaggerated emphasis on the last word. He was lying belly-down in front of Squirtle with half-lidded eyes. Peroo, Loria, and Bein all sat or lay beside him in similar poses of recuperation. From his new perspective, they all looked shorter and smaller now. Squirtle experienced a moment of surrealism.
Zell the Buizel reclined on his side a bit further away. He held his upper body upright with one paw against the ground. Squirtle couldn't be sure, but if he had to guess, Zell hadn't maintained consciousness after the fall either.
"Hello every-" Squirtle croaked before his jaw dropped in surprise. He sounded almost exactly like Wartortle from the Blindhollow Seed Nursery. The words he chose and the flow of his speech would differentiate him, but the essential sound of his voice was the same.
Quil chuckled. "Yep, enjoy the novelty of evolution while it lasts. Congratulations!"
The others in the circle echoed Quil with varying degrees of weariness in their voices. Even Zell chipped in from afar. He slowly stood and strode over to Squirtle.
"I haven't had a battle like that in weeks! I'm super glad all of you were crossing that bridge while I floated by." He bowed his long body. "Thank you all. Congrats again, Wartortle."
Squirtle joined the others in showing their respect before repeating the word, tasting it. "Wartortle."
As Zell walked shakily to the stream's edge and slipped into the water, Peroo said, "Sure am ticked that I missed you evolving, but I was barely awake. It's so rare to witness an evolution!"
Squirtle frowned. It was rare, wasn't it? Here, in a world with no trainers, gyms, or leagues, Pokémon likely took many years before they could evolve. Thus, witnessing an evolution would be uncommon indeed. If it weren't for Squirtle's influence.
If Quil's evolution being ahead of schedule had ever been in doubt, this proved it. Something about Squirtle was accelerating others' improvement in battle, causing relatively rapid evolution. And evidently, that influence even changed his own body. He had somehow encouraged his body to evolve far earlier than an ordinary Squirtle's would have.
In a moment of unexpected empathy, Squirtle knew exactly how Quil had felt after realizing his evolution hadn't fully been under his control. He felt unclean, defiled by some unnatural presence. Was he even worthy of the evolution he had attained? But yes, of course he was. He was the only one responsible for his evolution in a way that differentiated him from Quil. Even if some aspect of his humanity had brought it about, it was his humanity. Not like he could turn it off, and really, why would he? As Quil had realized in the end, he should be celebrating his evolution.
He came out of his thoughts to see the others chatting about whether or not they'd seen the evolution. Quil watched him with concern. Squirtle knew that Quil had guessed what he was thinking. His friend could certainly relate. He returned a small smile. Quil nodded almost imperceptibly but continued to watch Squirtle closely.
"You okay?" Bein grunted as he, too, eyed Squirtle.
Squirtle had no desire to ruin the occasion and the happiness the team felt for him with any sour thoughts. "Yes, I'm fine. Just getting used to this. By the way, that was impressive when you threw your bone at Zell and caught it again, twice in a row."
"Mm. Thanks. Getting to the point where I can feel where it's going to go based on how I throw it."
"I saw that too!" Peroo chirped. "Sounds like a, a, what-do-you-call-it, boomerang! You lot heard of those things?"
"Yes," said Loria, and continued with a waggish tone. "Though Bein's technique involves a bone – a Bonemerang."
Squirtle put a palm to his face as everyone groaned at the cheesy name. He narrowly avoided gouging himself in the eye with one of his new claws. Even though his fingers had been mostly replaced by the vicious weapons, he retained enough dexterity to use the claws with precision. Thankfully they were partially opposable so he would be able to tie ropes or manipulate objects almost as easily as when he'd been a Squirtle. He easily picked up a browned pine needle resting in front of him and flicked it aside. With a mental chuckle, he recalled the disgust he felt at having claws on his first day as a Squirtle.
He continued to examine his new body as the others continued chatting. Tapping on his scutes produced an almost wooden sound as before, though now it was more resonant. The color of his skin was now like the sky in late afternoon, as opposed to the cheery sky at noon. He startled himself when he found he possessed limited control over his furry ears. When he rotated them a few degrees and practiced swinging them slightly forward or backward, he was reminded of how he drew circles in the air with his new tail on his first day as a Squirtle. Childishly entertained. He leaned right and left, testing the ponderous weight of his much larger shell. While it followed that being two or three times heavier would make him slower and less maneuverable on his feet, Squirtle did not feel any more cumbersome. His legs felt up to the challenge of moving him about as well as he had as a Squirtle, once he'd rested up, if not better.
Squirtle spun as something tapped on his shell-back. It was Quil. He'd barely noticed his friend circling around.
"Since I bet you'll be curious tonight or tomorrow," Quil said, "you have the same scars and scrapes. Could you turn back around for a second? Ha, even the dark scratch is still there. Remember when you fell into those rocks right before we fought that Zigzagoon?"
"Yes," Squirtle grunted as he tried in vain to reach behind him and feel the scratch for himself. His arms were still too short, and not nearly as flexible as his human arms had been. He no longer had elbows outside his shell, after all.
"Your arms aren't going to reach, Squirtle," Peroo pointed out unnecessarily. "Fold your wings, what should we call you now?"
"Fold your wings?" Squirtle laughed.
"Flyer expression. Obviously. Why don't we call you Al then, since you're so smart? That's short for Alakazam."
The others smiled or snickered. Squirtle was not amused. "Heard something like that before," he murmured.
That sort of attitude, one of aloof and vainglorious intellect, was what he'd been actively working against since Karprest. He wanted a name as ordinary as possible. A name that wouldn't stand out or be memorable would be ideal. The perfect name came to mind; thinking of it was easy enough.
"Wartortle," he said, barely above a whisper. "Just Wartortle."
"Nameless again, okay!" Quil said cheerfully in a transparent effort to lift Squirtle's mood. "I've heard that occasionally Pokémon rename themselves when they evolve, especially the nameless ones. Seems like it's the best opportunity. Most keep their name though. Right?" he asked the others.
"Right," said Peroo slowly, exchanging a glance with Bein. Squirtle wondered at the significance behind Peroo's tone and the look. Was Quil stating the obvious for his benefit, and Peroo found that strange? Or was Quil way off, and Peroo was perplexed by that?
"I'll be Wartortle," he confirmed. "Like the Wartortle in Blindhollow."
Just like in my old life, it seems you can't get away from duplicate names no matter where life takes you.
"Your eyes," Loria pointed out. "Now they are brown as tree bark."
"Aw, I liked them better when they were purple! They were different," Quil said. "No offense Sq-Wartortle."
"I did too," Wartortle admitted, feeling self-conscious.
"Tougher 'mon, tougher color," Bein said simply. He looked to be getting bored with the conversation. "Sleep now, finish recovering, hit Cavetown in the morning?"
There were nods all around. Little choice remained to them, with light dwindling and bodies aching. Bein dug the hole, and everyone shared a chuckle when it quickly became obvious that the typical hole size was now too small. They chatted a few minutes more, specifically about the details of the battle. Everyone agreed that Zell was absolutely too tough for any one of them individually, and that it was bound to evolve any day like Wartortle had. He opened his mouth to mention the Buizel's life goal and desire to remain a Buizel, but something stopped him.
"Were you going to say something Wartortle?" Quil asked in the expectant silence.
"Did any of you see if he was still conscious after we fell?" he asked instead. "I mean, did we technically win?"
"I let myself pass out after I saw you evolve," Quil said. None of the others had been coherent enough to witness Wartortle and Zell landing after their mid-air struggle above the treetops. It was impossible to tell who had won. Zell hadn't made it clear before slipping away.
"I guess sometimes," Wartortle mused as he admired his thick claws against the clear evening sky, "it's helpful to fight a battle regardless of its outcome."
The claws of his other hand furrowed the dirt as he clenched them. He said nothing more that night.
"We'll be talking about the mission in the commons in a few minutes," Quil told a trio of Rattata as the members of Team Equalize descended the uneven steps of Cavetown's main entrance tunnel. The throat of the mountain. The Rattata nodded eagerly and watched as the team continued deeper.
Quil sounded like he'd relaxed into his role as unofficial 'spokesmon'. Wartortle felt no need to script or assist with the speech Quil was going to give. Admittedly, that was partly because he was at a loss for how to tell the crowd with dignity that they'd failed. Quil would get the crowd on their side, he was sure. Quil would put their efforts in a heroic light.
Before the commons, the team stopped by Nape's bank in The Lattice. Wartortle helped Bein take off the backpack and unload it. All their supplies were going back into storage for future missions. Nape was eager to take care of it. He asked excitedly about the happenings at Karprest, but Quil suggested he simply come with them to the commons for a fuller report.
"The missions you 'mon are goin' on have built up a bunch of hype," said Nape as they walked. "My bank's drawn some curious eyes, and now some Cavetowners are askin' for this Monferno's help for their own storage."
He paused to study Wartortle's reaction, who said, "Interesting. I think that's great, actually. Cavetown must be having more traffic than ever, so I imagine it's safer for possessions to be in your bank than in public places like the refugees' Habitation Caverns."
"Hee, perfect, 'cause I already started storin' their stuff all over! It's fun work, and helpful too!"
Wartortle smiled at Nape's enthusiasm as Quil directed yet another inquirer to the commons. Apparently Wartortle had kick-started the beginnings of a banking system here in Cavetown. Possibly the first bank in all the land. Was he a meddler now, manipulating the advancement of social science and philosophy among Pokémon? Another reason why he should be removing himself from any position of leadership or importance in this society.
By the time Team Equalize had gathered at the customary cluster of mushrooms in the commons for the speech, the huge cavern was more populated than Wartortle had ever seen. It must have been a combination of the continued refugee immigration and the excitement about the teams' missions. Quil visibly swallowed, and Wartortle gave him a reassuring pat on his side. Wartortle was no longer dwarfed by his friend. Now their eyes were approximately level when Quil stood on his hind legs.
"I wish we had happier news to share," Quil said under the voices of the crowd.
Couldn't agree more. I don't envy your position as the speaker right now, Wartortle thought.
"I agree. We can never know what might have been, though. Maybe our actions at Karprest, or lack thereof, were for the best. Maybe."
"Quil! And...Squirtle? Spangle me, is that you?" said an unmistakable voice above the crowd's murmur. Viper. She inched toward the mushrooms beside a surprised-looking Hayzin.
"I am happy to see you all again," said the Zebstrika as he looked over Loria, Peroo, Bein, and Quil. His eyes kept returning to Wartortle. "Please accept my sincere congratulations! You go by Wartortle now, yes?"
"Congrats, Wartortle, congrats!" said Viper as her head swung around, full of enthusiasm, on her flexible neck.
"Thank you, thanks," Wartortle said, feeling a passing urge to withdraw from the situation. "More importantly, how was the Needleloft mission?"
"A decisive success," Hayzin reported with satisfaction. "Our companions, the two Houndour and the Sneasel, remained in Needleloft after our victory. We'd love to tell you about it later, as we did for the crowd in this very cavern yesterday evening. We did not mention any of our future plans-"
"Because we don't have any!" interrupted Viper.
"The crowd was keen to hear about our next move," Hayzin continued after closing his eyes for a second and taking a calming breath. "Many kindly offered to help in the ways they could, or to join our next efforts outside of Cavetown. I believe our success has banished the doubt and fear in many 'mon who had previously...disdained what we are trying to do. I thought you should be informed, before your team spoke."
"Er, noted," said Quil, whose posture slumped ever so slightly. "I guess I'd better hop up and start, everyone's waiting."
Quil leaped to the top of the highest mushroom without further ado. The crowd quieted, and he began. Wartortle stood by, ready to leap up and support him, but he doubted he could say anything better himself. When Quil reached the part where the team first spoke with Stolt in Karprest, his pace slowed to thoughtful phrases and sentences instead of a steady and easy stream. The crowd exploded when he talked about the moments after the tour.
"Believe me, we were all ready to either battle or have a discussion about Karprest with the 'mon who lived there. Once the tour was over though, we had a new sense of Stolt and the town. We decided to not intervene, and to let-"
The conversations of the crowd swelled to an outcry of surprise and disapproval. Half a minute passed before Quil could continue.
"If you had been there for yourselves, you would understand! My gut knew that Karprest had changed. It might not have changed for the better, but getting Stolt out of there wasn't going to help. The situation is complicated. We wouldn't say you Karprest refugees should return, but we also wouldn't suggest that you stay here. For us Karprest isn't a problem, and if it really is a problem, it's not one we can fix."
Low conversation continued amid shouts of mixed sentiments.
"Cowards!"
"Thanks for trying!"
"Are you Confused or stupid?"
"What's next?"
Quil must have caught that last one, as he said, "Today we will be meeting in our base to decide what to do next. If you know of any new problems related to the Electric boost, please post them on our request board by tomorrow. That's when we'll leave. That's all I have to say. Thanks for coming."
"That went about as well as it could have," said Wartortle as Quil hopped down. The crowd's reaction wasn't homogeneous; some individuals were already on their way out while many of them milled about before leaving.
"Our team's success was absolute," said Hayzin, "and they all know that. They won't lose their faith with our endeavor."
Fifteen or twenty Pokémon approached the mushroom cluster after the speech. Most came to congratulate Wartortle on his evolution. Some requested to join them on the next mission. Quil asked these to stop by Team Base in the morning. Others wanted clarification on the team's thoughts on Karprest. Only one, a Machop, came to thank them. Together, Wartortle and the others made their way back to Team Base. On the way, he spotted an unfamiliar sign at one of the major tunnel junctures. It depicted a lightning bolt with an 'X' crossing it out.
"Is this what I think it is?" asked Wartortle as a thrill rose within him.
Hayzin snorted out his large nostrils. "I don't like it, though I understand the message the Smeargle is trying to illustrate."
"Never seen it before," said Viper. "Let's follow it, see where it leads."
Wartortle couldn't resist a small chuckle as he said, "Okay, let's do that." He was unsurprised when the signs pointed them along the route they had already been taking. The sight of Team Base when they arrived, however, caught Wartortle off guard.
The end of the small tunnel had been expanded into a spacious cave. The light in the room was brighter than ever. Wartortle noticed that more of the bioluminescent fungi had been transplanted onto the walls and ceiling by some unknown, but most assuredly delicate procedure. The far wall featured numerous hollows of a range of sizes. The floors and walls of each hollow had been smoothed by expert hands, and an appropriately-sized blanket was resting in each. The request board was larger than before. Extra slats rested neatly beneath the board for additional new requests. Finally, a large square table of rock had been set in the exact center of the room. One long bench and some chairs were set around the table for those who could, and preferred, to sit.
"You ask for all this?" Bein asked Wartortle as he walked the perimeter of the table.
"No, it wasn't me. Not all of it. I only asked for the spare slats for the board. This is...this is amazing."
"Generous," Loria said as she stroked one of the blankets. It looked very soft, either for bundling up or as cushioning from the rock.
"I don't think we earned this," Quil said quietly. "I feel bad knowing the Cavetowners did this for us. I'd feel even worse if refugees helped."
Wartortle grimaced. "We most certainly did not earn it. What's done is done though. I personally think we should be very appreciative of all of this. The Pokémon here are relying on us. They've gone out of their way to show their support by making our base cozy and comfortable." An important point was creeping up on him, a revelation. He looked around at Bein, Loria, Quil, Viper, Peroo, and Hayzin.
"This work we're doing, these missions, building up our supplies and funds, keeping everyone informed, utilizing the services that Cavetown has to offer...this is more than the effort of we who are here right now. Team members will be coming and going, but it looks like we're going to keep growing. Cavetown's only getting bigger and this base is a part of it. We'll be able to take on increasing numbers of requests simultaneously. More and more Pokémon will be joining us."
Now he had everyone's eye. He looked down at his claws. "More and more will be out there fighting beside us for our cause. And they'll have this network, this incredible support system at their backs. What I mean to say is that we're much more than some traveling liberation team now. We're like...a guild. Or...a society."
He wondered if there was a perfect word for the meaning he was struggling to convey. Loria found it for him.
"We're the Resistance. We do not rest while malevolent Zappers crush happiness. We resist with all our power."
The room fell perfectly silent. Peroo, Hayzin, Bein, and Viper were spellbound. Quil's mouth was open, his eyes shining with emotion. Wartortle thought his friend might cry.
"Exactly," breathed Wartortle.
Team Equalize and what remained of Team Recover lounged in their revamped headquarters for a comfortable couple of hours. Hayzin and Viper told the complete tale of how Needleloft had been saved. Cradle Vale was an icy valley high up in the mountains, highly suitable for a population of Sneasel and Weavile. Hayzin related that the town took its name from the cone-like rocks shaped like needles pointing to the clouds. He said the delicately narrow formations were all around the mountain slope upon which Needleloft was constructed.
Team Recover confronted the Dedenne, who went simply by Dedenne, and fought him in full view of every Pokémon living in Needleloft. Viper told this part of the story. The battle was uneven in favor of Team Recover for two reasons: they had Hayzin's electricity, and the Dedenne fought alone. They still ended up using a Cheri Berry during the fight to reverse the Paralysis of one of the Houndour, which pleased Wartortle to hear. Bringing a backpack of supplies had been helpful to them. After Dedenne came to, they forced him to lead the team to where he'd hidden the Razor Claws. The Pokémon of Needleloft were overjoyed when the items were returned to them, allowing the ceremony for the town's Sneasel to proceed.
"Showing Dedenne lose a battle like any other 'mon was crucial," said Hayzin. "Needleloft has seen that Zappers are not like the Legendaries of hatchling stories. They can be defeated."
Viper added, "They saw that Zappers can be good, too!" She extended her length to lightly jab Hayzin in the shoulder, whose ears twitched as he smiled.
"Why'd that crazy Dedenne go and steal the things anyway?" Peroo asked, perched on a chair back.
Hayzin sighed. "I fear it was all a childish tantrum. He explained that he was jealous of the ceremony and celebrations for the Sneasel of Needleloft. As a 'mon with no evolution, Dedenne wanted the town to know his pain. He stole the Razor Claws to prevent the Sneasel from evolving. Forcing them to live, as he said, 'overlooked as the snow'."
"I can't blame the Dedenne too much," said Quil as most of the others expressed their scorn and disbelief at the Dedenne's motive. "He was living in a town where Sneasel and Weavile get all the attention. They're the majority. The Dedenne only wanted some recognition. To feel better than them for once."
Wartortle, at Quil's side, shook his head as a friendly debate began. It was easy to see both sides, but which one was justified? The Dedenne had certainly taken his power too far. Yet feeling left out in a town like Needleloft sounded like a natural consequence of its spotlight on the Sneasel line. The Dedenne had used his power to force his viewpoint onto others, albeit in a childish and vindictive manner. While stealing the Razor Claws and preventing the ceremony were reprehensible steps to take, allowing the Pokémon of Needleloft a glimpse of their lifestyle from the perspective of a species outside of the Sneasel line was perhaps beneficial to all. And who knew? The Dedenne might have been bullied or ostracized for not being a Sneasel. The biased requests on the board might have left details out about how the Dedenne had been wronged.
Complications, lies, moral dilemmas. Wartortle clenched his claws. Again. He'd been doing that often since Karprest. It's reasons like this that I refuse to lead the Resistance any longer. Maybe leaving the Zappers alone is the best thing to do, maybe it'll all work itself out in the end. Or, maybe that will end in misery and ruin for Pokémon everywhere. Who am I to tell? I've only been around for two and a half weeks!
I can't zip my mouth closed and refrain from giving any input, either. While that would save me from feeling like a bully or being responsible for major choices, that's not how I work. I'd go crazy. And if I ever disagreed with what we were doing, which would happen often if history repeats itself, I wouldn't be able to give it my all like I've been doing up until now.
If I step down, I'd have to walk away completely. I'd have to leave the Resistance.
He would miss the faces he saw around him. Wartortle didn't know what he would be doing next, but he wouldn't be out in the field with Bein's steady presence at his back. He wouldn't be hearing Viper's wild stories or Hayzin's quiet irritation. Peroo's swift shadow. Loria's humming in battle. They'd be trying to save the world without him.
His role in the dream he'd shared with Quil would be over. To fight the oppression, the imbalance, the suffering. To help Pokémon. His friend's heart was still in it. Wartortle's was not. He'd have to part ways with Quil. Wartortle's insides squirmed at the notion, as if to say, 'No way!'
What do you want me to do, you stupid Wartortle body? Instincts, Pokémon nature, intuition, whatever you want me to call you! I thought the Resistance was supposed to be my magnum opus, my entire reason I became a Pokémon. And look at me now, lost and confused. It's not exactly working out for me, now is it? So I've come to a parting of ways with Quil and the others, get over it!
He looked around at their faces once again. At the new Team Base, Cavetown's show of support and gratitude. At the requests from Pokémon who had put their hope into the hands of the Resistance. The Resistance. The Resistance. This was only the beginning. They would be growing, achieving success near and far, becoming a positive force. Everyone would yell and cheer when the Resistance was back in town from a mission.
How was he supposed to make the decision to leave this when it was being rubbed in his face?
"I'm going to check on something, I'll be back later," he announced after Peroo had finished his sentence. Team Equalize was sharing some choice moments from the battles in Blind Prairie two days prior. The timing was perfect, as everyone was too engrossed in picturing the battle in their minds to question him.
Sparing himself the pain of a backward glance, Wartortle fled the bright cave and let his feet carry them where they willed. He tallied the pros and cons of leaving the Resistance in his mind. Every point was analyzed before being dismissed. The number of cons should have made it an easy decision, but the weight of the pros was undeniable. Without a drastic change in viewpoint or personality, he could not see himself being a part of the next job.
Next, he tackled the problem of what he should be doing instead. His memories were likely as whole as they would ever be. To find more answers, he would have to find his fellow man. Someone in Cavetown might have heard of humans, unlike Quil. He could wander the land, following rumors until he found true civilization. Assuming nothing outlandish had occurred, like Wartortle being sent through time or to an alternate universe, humans had to be found somewhere. If only he'd paid more attention to astronomy growing up, he might have been able to determine his location from the stars and their constellations. As it stood, locating other humans would be an ordeal.
Living the rest of his life out as a native Wartortle wasn't a valid option. He could still vividly recall the sense of immense purpose he'd felt after making his decision to become a Pokémon. Try as he might, that responsibility could not be disregarded. The deep-seated impetus remained.
Wartortle was still engrossed in his thoughts when he found himself emerging out of a steep and narrow tunnel into daylight. Not a single cloud was in sight to obscure the brilliance of the sun directly above. Thanks to the calm air, he could really feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and shell. He planted himself in front of the tunnel exit to take in the vista of majestic mountains beyond. From this side of the mountain that housed Cavetown, Wartortle learned how diminutive it was in comparison to the other mountains of Heartless Heights. Cavetown's mountain was only a precursor for the mountain range. Most of the other mountains were capped with snow and peaking at a much higher elevation.
A brown lump of a Pokémon was slumped on the rocky ground in front of the tunnel. Wartortle recognized the dark stripes on its back and the lack of obvious legs, though it took a moment for the species name to come to him. Swinub. Once Wartortle's attention was on it, the Pokémon spoke.
"You're the first 'mon to find my secret spot," she said in a voice that barely permitted Wartortle to hear her words. She had a delicate pink nose, but her eyes appeared shut behind her heavy lids. The soft voice and closed eyes reminded him of Quil as a Cyndaquil.
"Even though this is an exit, no one leaves this way?" he asked.
The Swinub's nose shook left and right. "Not that I've seen. If you walk out a few steps and look down, you can see this exit leads to a precipice. Unless you can fly, you might slip and roll down the mountain. And there are better exits from Cavetown for Flyers."
Wartortle did as she suggested. Soon he was toeing the beginnings of a steep slope that headed downward. A breath of mountain wind passed over him as he looked. He withdrew and sat himself down next to the Swinub with a clink of his shell's bottom.
"Aren't you that Wartortle?" said the Swinub.
He couldn't help but laugh at the reminder of his celebrity status. "That's me. The famous Wartortle. Co-founder of the Resistance, lead strategist, and savior of wherever I happen to set foot. When I'm on the case, problems are solved and Pokémon are happy. It's that easy."
The Swinub didn't appear to know how to react to his tone. "Sorry," he said. "I'm sorting out some issues right now. That's why I came here. I didn't mean to vent. Oh, do you mind that I'm in your secret spot?"
This time, Wartortle recognized her pause as the one that signified a Pokémon trying to make sense of his human expressions. He was beginning to know that pause well. She soon responded. "No, it's alright. I may be a Cavetowner but I can't claim a whole tunnel exit. It's a pleasure for someone to finally come by here, especially you."
Wartortle felt a flash of embarrassment. If she knew of his failures and how lost he was, she wouldn't be welcoming him as a hero.
"Is it alright," she continued, "if I ask what issues you're having? I'd like to help."
Wartortle hesitated, doubting in her ability to help. His mind was dissecting such topics as humanity, science, the nature of leadership, happiness. She was a Swinub. Yet that was the arrogance he was trying to rid his mind of. He needed to work on giving Pokémon more credit. She seemed reasonable enough. Enough, maybe, to help him.
"My name is Swinee," she said, no doubt sensing his discomfort. "Very easy."
"Just Wartortle," he returned, rising to his feet.
Swinee lurched off the ground toward him. Returning the Tackle in time was difficult since she had no visible legs to broadcast her movement, but he managed. They sat back down. Another breath of wind blew past, rippling the long hairs of Swinee's back. It faded some, but never fully died away. The wind was far from being too cold for Wartortle to bear, thanks to his Pokémon constitution, so he chose to enjoy it. It added to the character of the mountains.
"Whatever we talk about here, you have to promise not to share it with anyone else in Cavetown. I don't want the general public to learn that the Resistance is neither as fearless nor as wise as we make ourselves sound."
"Oh. I understand." She sounded downcast, but quickly hid it. "I promise. What do you mean that you 'mon aren't wise enough?"
So Wartortle told her of the team's meeting and decision to help the Pokémon of Karprest. The voyage. The shock of arriving to find a happy and productive town. The confusion, not knowing how to proceed. Wartortle's feelings as a leader who had let his team down. The regrettable viewpoint he hadn't known he'd possessed, that most Pokémon didn't truly know what they wanted. That they were meant to be led by those with power in some form or another. He tried to keep the story and his explanations professional, as a Public Relations representative from the lab he used to work in might. As he reached the meatier portions, however, he deteriorated to the style of a heartfelt outflow.
The wind continued to pick up and some clouds rolled in from the northeastern horizon. Wartortle knew his eyes were deceiving him, but clouds looked to be spontaneously forming overhead, too. The speed of the incoming cloud cover had cast quite an illusion. He raised his voice louder to be clearly heard as he wondered how good the Swinub's hearing was through all the shaggy hair. His own hearing had improved due to the long external ears he now possessed. As he reached the tour's conclusion in his shortened story, Swinee broke in.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to mention how lucky you are to be here today. Every other traveler and refugee, too. I've lived here for years so I can say it's rare to have such a thick cloud cover. There will be a snowstorm for sure!"
Wartortle smiled. "Where I come from, that's bad weather." He took another look at her coat of thick hair. "But you're an Ice-type, aren't you?"
"Correct, I'm a Freezer and a Grounder. Cavetown's a perfect place for a Swinub like me." It looked like she'd only briefly taken her gaze off the skies. Her nostrils were widening and contracting. "I can't believe how quickly those clouds rolled in. This will be a terrific storm. I can already smell the cold on the wind."
Indeed, Wartortle could certainly feel it now. When the wind gusted especially strongly, the cold bit into him. The chill threatened to draw the heat from his body. Even as a Pokémon, Wartortle would have preferred to be somewhere warmer. That meant the temperature had plummeted to freezing temperatures or close to it. Even as he examined the novel discomfort of frigid cold, the air grew even colder. The first snowflake drifted past his nose.
"We should warn everyone in Cavetown," she said over the wind. Her volume was probably outside of her comfort zone, if Quil's was an indication.
Wartortle motioned for her to join him in retreating into the tunnel. Together they escaped into the shelter of the narrow tunnel, but neither was willing to continue on to Cavetown. Like seeing an approaching tornado or witnessing some horrible event unfold, Wartortle's eyes were glued to the worsening storm. The sunny day had been devoured by thick gray clouds. The snowfall began in earnest as the wind picked up to a howl. By some acoustical phenomenon, the tunnel's mouth moaned like a gargantuan beast tormented by the freezing wind.
"You're right, we should warn them," said Wartortle. How would that help though? If any 'mon were right outside of Cavetown, they'd obviously know about the storm. The ones inside would quickly learn since news would spread rapidly from Cavetown's main entrance. No one would be able to abate the storm. Weather was weather.
"Yes," Wartortle thought he heard Swinee murmur. She was still watching the outside world transform. Wartortle didn't bother to share his recent thoughts. The storm was mesmerizing. Already the dark rock outside the tunnel was hidden by a mounting layer of fresh white snow. Over the wind, a new sound reached his ears.
Chok. Chok. Chok chok. Chok. Chok chok chok chok CHOK CHOK CHOK CHOK-
Hail had started beating down with alarming swiftness. The tirade sent the occasional tiny shard of transparent ice ricocheting into the tunnel. They weren't large enough to do any harm, but the shards caused a question to surface in Wartortle's mind. Swinee apparently had the same thought at the same time.
"If these are only pieces," she began as she crept toward the opening to get a better look. Wartortle was right behind her. Once they were close enough to see the hail collecting in the snow, he heard a sharp intake of breath from Swinee.
The hailstones were massive. Wartortle would be hard-pressed to hold more than one of them in his claws. Each was a veritable rock of pure ice.
"Forget what I said," Swinee cried as they retreated back from the storm of hail and snow. "No one is lucky to be around here today."
When the moaning of the wind crescendoed, the wintry sting of the cold outside reached many feet into the tunnel. If it was cold even as far back as Wartortle was standing, he shuddered to think of the poor Pokémon outside. Not to mention the danger of the hailstones. The ones with a Type that was weak to Ice would especially suffer.
Types. A severe storm coming on with extreme suddenness. The boost. No. No, it can't be true.
A bitter cold unrelated to the weather chilled Wartortle through and through. He turned entirely to face Swinee and looked down at her with dread. The storm was forgotten. A non-issue. A passing side effect of a permanent and far more sinister condition.
Is it going to happen again? Has it already happened?
"Swinee," he said. "Use one of your Ice-type techniques please."
"What? I can't hear you over the wind!" she shouted.
"Use an Ice technique!" he yelled, allowing the rising fear he felt to empower his voice. "And point it outside!"
Swinee's nose twitched. She seemed on the verge of asking the purpose of Wartortle's request. Then her body shook in what he guessed was the equivalent of a shrug. She faced up the slope to the mouth of the tunnel and her nostrils flared with a full inhalation.
A second's lull.
A blast of icy wind screamed through the tunnel and out into the storm. The wind outside was a calm breeze next to the gale Swinee generated. Every ice shard on the floor was ejected from the force. The snow accumulating at the tunnel mouth was pulverized into a fine powder that vanished into the storm. A heavy layer of frost coated the tunnel walls instantaneously. If the air itself could have frozen, Wartortle was sure it would have. He trembled as the modest body heat surrounding him was stripped from his body and consumed by Swinee's technique. More by bodily reflex than by volition, he stumbled backward to escape the draining cold. Other than during the nightmare he'd had during his first walk through Weird Wood, this was the first cold as a Pokémon that Wartortle found unbearable. And he hadn't even been hit by the technique.
Swinee's hairy coat appeared to stiffen as the hairs raised up. She stood stock-still, looking at her handiwork. The small puffs of breath from her nose were visible in the area of sub-freezing temperatures she'd created. The effect faded as the air from deeper in Cavetown warmed up the tunnel once more. The frost coating every surface remained.
She backed away from the tunnel mouth and the moaning wind. Away from the frosty walls. Slowly, she turned to look at Wartortle.
"What does this mean?"
A hundred answers came to mind, but Swinee would be hearing none of them. He'd been in this situation before. This exact situation. A Pokémon discovering their new power. The Pokémon experimenting with it. The Pokémon attacking his defenseless friend while he watched, before repeating the fell deed on him.
Wartortle backed down the tunnel while keeping his eyes on the Swinub. When the curve of the tunnel hid him from her view, he turned and sprinted away.
Then the screaming began.