I hated Ilex Forest.
That was kind of weird, actually, since I had gone through it twice before back in my own time with no serious qualms. But the forest was different, more menacing I suppose. There were no beaten-down paths in this Ilex, no friendly signs to tell you that you'd better think twice before jumping over that ledge; all we got was a thin little strip of ground that wove around here and there, its undergrowth a bit shorter than the greenery encroaching on both sides.
Michael continued to lead the way, which was fine by me. He had whistled down his Hoothoot again once the trees had started appearing around us regularly and she was currently perched on his shoulder, watching the surroundings sharply. Yes, she; I had been informed quite sternly by Michael that his partner was female and would I mind not insulting her so terribly? It seemed a bit excessive as I had only referred to it casually, but I let the barb slide because it had gotten really dark really quickly under the trees and he actually seemed to know where he was going.
It wasn't the confusing paths that made me hate Ilex Forest, though, nor the darkness; it was the Pokemon. They were aggressive and they were everywhere. The Caterpie and Weedle in the area seemed to take exception to my feet; they kept darting onto the path, trying to attack my sneakers furiously. Michael would only laugh when this happened, but Drowzee would force them off with a pound or two after I screeched loudly enough.
Michael was much more serious about the Paras and Oddish, though. He refused to get close to either species, choosing to dash through bushes and around trees in order to avoid them. It took me a good fifteen minutes to work up enough courage to ask him why.
"They can poison your partner, or freeze her in place," he growled, lifting a hand to smooth down his Hoothoot's feathers. "It happened to us, once. She became stiff and would not move. I tried everything I could think of for three full days, until I finally found a berry that fixed her..." his voice trailed off as he continued petting the Hoothoot mechanically, and I reached out to lay my hand on Drowzee's shoulder without thinking about it.
That was something I hadn't considered before, something that made the whole situation much more frightening. There were no Pokemon Centers to go to anymore, no automatic healing machines. If Drowzee fainted, would he wake up again? What could I do if he didn't? Luckily, he seemed to regain normal health with time, so as long as I was careful about picking my battles we'd be fine. I hoped.
The Paras and Oddish were pretty withdrawn and reclusive, but the Zubat were downright obnoxious. They loved to fly an inch away from a person's face, screeching wildly the entire time. The creatures stopped bothering Michael after his Hoothoot pecked one silly, but they kept flying right in front of Drowzee and me, refusing to leave us alone. I had a feeling that, if Michael hadn't been there to back us up, they would have attacked much more viciously.
The message was clear: we weren't wanted. The forest was the Pokemon's home, not ours.
"So. How're we going to find Florence?" I asked after a while, batting ineffectively at the Pidgey who had decided to join the Zubat in their fun. The bird flipped – his? her? I had gotten a lot more confused about Pokemon's genders in general – anyway, its tail at me before lazily winging off.
"We are going to keep following her trail," Michael replied calmly, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "See how the grass before us is slightly bent? It returns to its proper height after a mere three hours under normal conditions. She has passed this way recently."
"Oh." I scratched at my ear furiously, squinting down at the grass under my feet. It looked the same as the grass on either side, just shorter. "But what're we gonna do then? Just drag her back with us?"
"If necessary."
"Oh."
Michael had kept his replies clipped and to-the-point since entering the forest, for the most part, so he wasn't all that fun to talk to. I started playing with Drowzee again instead, trying to see if I could get him to use Confusion properly. He still hadn't gotten the hang of it, but I thought we were making progress since he was starting to know when a Pokemon would attack a few seconds before it actually happened. That seemed at least a bit more like a psychic attack to me.
Actually, I was looking forward to his learning Confusion for more than one reason. One, it would be a much stronger attack, so we could actually protect ourselves; two, we would (maybe) be able to communicate then. I could just vaguely remember learning that psychic Pokemon could communicate with others via tele-something in school, which seemed plenty handy now. Maybe Drowzee would figure out how to use – telekinethy? Maybe? – after he had learned a real psychic attack. Then we could figure out a game plan for the entire absurd situation and decide how to get out of it. I really doubted that he was happy with our time frame, after all. Certainly I wasn't.
"Here's Asyawact Lake again," Michael said quietly, interrupting the daydreams I had slowly been building up (which had involved me somehow saving the day and getting back home again, naturally). "We are getting closer to the center of the forest."
I peered over at the dark water he had motioned towards, which we could see through some of the trees. He had first pointed it out as soon as we had entered the forest, which just made me all the more confused now. "So, we're been going in circles, then?"
"Hardly." Michael's Hoothoot turned her head around to look at me scathingly for him. I cringed back a little, but Drowzee just yawned. "There are many areas in this forest which no human may enter, Trainer Monroe. We must find our way around them if we wish to find our way through."
That seemed terribly inefficient to me; why couldn't they just build some kind of road straight through, honestly? Still, I kept my mouth shut, because I didn't really fancy the idea of being left alone in the middle of some dark and spooky forest. And Michael seemed almost reverent when he talked about the forest, like it was something to be respected. I didn't want to offend him. So I just brushed off another Metapod that had decided to fall practically on top of my head and kept on walking.
It was probably only ten minutes after that when we were ambushed.
A large, dark figure jumped out of the trees to our left a few dozen yards ahead with no warning whatsoever, blocking the path. I screamed – that figure could have been any kind of dangerous Pokemon, after all – but Michael just backed up a step and looked to his Hoothoot. She clicked her beak in condescension, letting out a few bored-sounding hoots, and then he went up to examine the creature with not a word to me. I thought he had gone insane, or something, to take such risks.
Michael hadn't gone crazy; the figure was just Florence.
She looked just the same as the night before, except that she was now holding onto my notebook rather possessively. I decided that my incredible skill at noticing that the notebook was missing and she probably had it made up for me being a complete fool at the moment.
"You need to leave," she hissed at the two of us, completely disregarding Michael's raised eyebrows (they had scooted up so high that they stood out clearly, outlined right there against the pale skin of his forehead) and my spluttered indignation. "Now. This is none of your business."
"Florence," I hissed in reply, hoping that Michael wasn't paying much attention, "this is not the time to be tryin' to catch a Poke – a partner or something, come on-"
Actually, Michael hadn't been paying much attention to my words; he'd been observing Florence instead. He started speaking halfway through my complaints. "Hmph. Maybelle was correct. What trouble have you gotten up to, girl?"
"Nothing!" she growled, backing up a step (and ignoring me completely). "Just go back. I'm fine."
"Your eyes are distant and your explanations thin," Michael continued, absolutely serious. "You look like one possessed, Florence. Tell me what has happened, or I will need to take action."
I stared at the older man, annoyed, but I couldn't keep up that feeling for long. Michael was acting professional now, composed. This was what he did, I could tell. This was the area where he knew the rules. His Hoothoot was leaning forward on his shoulder, watching Florence's every movement with care.
Florence looked from us to the forest, chewing on her lower lip. Her quiet pause lasted for an uncomfortable length of time, until she finally gave in. "Fine. But I cannot just tell you. I will show you instead."
And just like that we went back to walking, Florence in the lead. My feet had gotten sore a while back, but I wasn't about to bring it up around such hardy people. So, since I was still curious, I managed to sneak my way past Michael, next to Florence. Drowzee tagged along after me, sniffing at the air with a strange expression on his face.
"Hey. Florence." She ignored me, so I tried again. "Mind telling me what the heck you're doing?"
She sighed, then held out her hand in front of me. She was holding out my notebook, opened and folded over so one of the pages was showing. I could see a few diagrams there, nothing special, and a few little doodles of faces and geometric patterns.
"Yeah, that's mine. What's your point?"
She sighed (yes, again; I didn't see why she couldn't just say something), then used her other hand to point at one doodle in particular. I squinted down at it for a moment before my heart stuttered. It was the fairy-creature that had gotten me into the situation in the first place, the one that had been green and stuff. I didn't remember drawing it, but I wasn't usually thinking much when I doodled. Apparently Florence had recognized it, and apparently she knew what it meant.
And maybe, just maybe that meant that she could help.
