A.N./ Edited on 3/21 to remove some extraneous and unnecessary details.

Morgrem scampered on the rocky mountainside, having just emerged from a tunnel. The fairy-type hadn't a reason to speak to these pokémon he sought until now, for Hatterene's and Bisharp's words sparked a curiosity in him that he needed to satiate. From his vantage point, he observed the sprawling forest before him, and in the distance angry clouds and grey haze obscured all sight beyond. He lowered his gaze to the foreground, looking down at the river which flowed into the mountain a short stretch below. Swollen with water, it was a brown, muddy color, and it threatened to overflow its banks. Returning his focus to his immediate surroundings, he treaded upon the hard earth, heading toward another grotto which had been tunneled by a pokémon long ago. Light failed to illuminate the entire tunnel, for he knew it had only two openings. He could see in low light but not in total darkness. He breathed in metallic tasting air and then stepped into the tunnel.

Gingerly making his way, he attached himself to the right wall after the light ceased and calculated his steps to avoid sharp rocks underfoot. In the silence of the space, he heard nothing but the rustling of his bag against his person, and the ambience of his feet kicking stones and compacting pebbles. If he stood still, he swore he could hear his heartbeat.

Morgrem stuck his foot out, and instead of finding ground beneath, he found air, and to his chagrin, he put his weight on it, causing him to fall and tumble several feet down. He cursed as he felt his shin burning from scraping himself against the gravel. He thrust a hand in his knapsack, feeling that some of his berries were crushed, but at the very bottom remained the everstone. Whenever he touched it, it thrummed against his fingertips.

Straightening himself up, he grumbled at the realization that he'd probably get separated from the stone or his bag again, and he wondered how he'd be able to maintain his ruse of weakness and naiveite if he was a huge grimmsnarl. Even if he could force off his evolution by strength of will, if anyone save Ruby witnessed it, it will spoil his plan.

He desired to topple Hydreigon, but the dragon needed to trust him enough to allow him back into his chambers. He divulged this plan to no one, but Ruby might figure it out if he wasn't so craven and concerned about the superiors. Hatterene wanted Hydreigon gone, and so did Bisharp, but both pokémon wanted to use Morgrem to further their own goals, which he didn't like. He could just go around all of them, he realized. Why did he need them? Being friends with Ruby, the sableye minions wouldn't bother him, and if caught alone in his chambers, Hydreigon would have little chance against a grimmsnarl.

The tunnel sloped down from this point forth, and he felt grateful that he was to be out of this abyssal darkness soon. The goblin continued to step carefully, taking the tunnel's grade into consideration as he walked. He breathed with relief and smiled when the tunnel bent sharply to the left ahead, and with it light reflected to him. Morgrem resisted the urge to run, almost laughing at himself for his claustrophobia since he learned he never enjoyed being underground or in tunnels.

He padded out into the sunlight, walking away from the rocky mountain base and toward the bright green grasses which lingered near the river's bank. He sifted through the contents of his bag and pulled out the wet, crushed berries. Instead of tossing them, he gobbled them up while they were still fresh. He approached the bank and its muddied water, unable to distinguish fish pokémon among the murk. Licking his fingers of berry juice, he then bent down and washed his hands in the water. Standing up, he readjusted his rucksack and hollered, "Toxicroak! Grapploct!"

In Morgrem's mind, he considered the two outside mountain dwellers special cases. According to his knowledge, no one else was entrusted to dwell in the forest, and he wondered why this was. He had no clue where their dwelling was or if they lived in the same place. The pokémon ate fish and liked to remain near the mountain's watery entrance. They had little company besides regular patrols, and with the locals removed moons ago, the forest was quiet. He walked away from the subterranean tunnel and listened for any rustling of foliage or splashing of water to indicate a large pokémon was planning to surprise him. He detected nothing but the faint rustling of leaves from the wind. It was afternoon, and probably the two pokémon wouldn't hunt until the evening. He turned away from the riverbank and walked where the greenery met the mountain base. He figured he would at least find some berries while he was out here.

Morgrem continued east in the forest for some time, seeking any unclaimed berries. Most of them were underripe, as this ground was examined first when the berry pickers made their rounds. Morgrem found a pomeg berry bush with hard, green berries. They weren't his favorite, but he enjoyed them regardless. He cast his hands out before the fruits. Concentrating, he used an innate power of his to will the berries to grow until ripened. Lowering his hands, he discovered ripened red berries, and he picked them and put them in his bag.

Doing this with several other berry bushes, he lost track of time, and he inadvertently managed to fill his pack in the process. Sitting on the cool grass, he ate what berries interfered with the clasp closing on his bag, and then decided to head back. The sinking of the sun cast long shadows from the trees to touch the mountain base. However, as Morgrem intended to leave, his eye picked up movement. A large boulder, which seemed unremarkable earlier, began to shift and move a bit to the north of his location at the deserted mountain base.

The offending boulder was shoved aside and emerging from a tunnel was a pokémon he never saw before. It was tall, covered in steel, had a protruding tail from its rear, and stood on two legs. A metallic arm was on each side of its torso. It faintly looked draconic. Morgrem moved in closer to witness what the pokémon was doing. The dragon replaced the boulder and then looked around. It began to walk to the east.

Morgrem intended to follow the creature, but behind him he heard vegetation shuffling, and he whipped his head so fast in the direction he swore he could give himself whiplash.

Morgrem came face to face with Toxicroak. "Watching old pal Duraludon on his evening stroll, huh? I swear someone called my name earlier. I was half-asleep though, but I saw a path through the grass, so I followed it to find you."

"Yes, that was me," Morgrem said, taking a deep breath to ease his nerves. He turned in Duraludon's direction and pointed. "Is that a secret entrance? How come I've never seen him?"

Toxicroak sniggered. "I admire his dedication. He's making an entrance into the mountain. What he intends to do after, I don't know."

"He's an outsider?" Morgrem asked. "Why has no one said or done anything about him?"

"Not an outsider," Toxicroak clarified. "He's a native. He lost his place to Tyranitar and was driven out by the other dragons."

Morgrem felt a sinking feeling. "I can't help but think Tyranitar's days are numbered," he said. "Maybe even Bisharp's too."

Toxicroak offered a small smile. "This about the new guy?"

Morgrem agreed. "He's bad news, even in Bisharp's book."

Toxicroak crossed his arms and towered over the goblin. "I doubt that's why you called me. I see you're on the outside without your ghostly friend. What happened?"

"The mountain lord's holing himself up, his commanders are in danger, and Gallade's taking advantage of the situation. I'm fed up with all of them. But I really need to ask you something."

Toxicroak cocked his head to the side. "Is this a request?"

"I just have a few questions I'd like answered."

Toxicroak nodded. "Then fire away."

Morgrem shifted his knapsack's strap to a more comfortable position. "For starters, where's Grapploct?"

Toxicroak rolled his eyes. "Not the question I think you really want to ask, but he's chasing a female and went into the mountain."

Morgrem thought this odd. "Strange. I was at the bottom layer earlier and didn't see him." He shrugged and then prompted, "What was it that Hydreigon wanted you and Grapploct to do with…" he stalled. That didn't sound right as the words escaped his mouth. "What was his plan for the low key toxtricity that came through and why did he need you?"

Toxicroak's relaxed demeanor changed to a more attentive one. "Interesting. Why do you want to know?"

Morgrem ran a hand through his hair. "Hatterene and Bisharp told me about their hit list. Hatterene was jealous of the amped toxtricity here since she liked her mate. Who was he? He likely is the low-ender's father. She was my rival."

"Family affair?" Toxicroak asked. He hesitated for several seconds before confessing, "The amped's mate was a grimmsnarl. He originally left the fairy forest and headed east towards the toxtricity's territory."

Morgrem felt stricken by an invisible blow, and a panicked sensation hung in his chest. "A grimmsnarl?" he asked dumbly. Of all mates, his evolution? Morgrem waved his hand. "Continue."

"Apparently after meeting up on several occasions, she had his child, but her band then threw her out. I talked to her a few times. She was headstrong. She was bitter toward her former band, but at the same time she wished she could've remained there."

Morgrem kept getting a foreboding feeling about this grimmsnarl. What were the odds he and then-Toxel ended up in Dragapult's care together? A sharp, reverberating thought fired in his brain. Where they blood-relatives? Dragapult never told them about how she came to adopt them, and Reuniclus never let Toxtricity access certain memories. His throat fell like it was constricting, and he forced out, "What of the baby?"

Toxicroak assumed a defensive stance. "The couple wanted to establish a place to settle down, and unknowingly came into this territory. The boss found them on a trail in the forest here and snatched the toxel. He loves these coercive schemes, as you know."

"They got her back," Morgrem stated in surprise. "How?"

"The fairy-type did a number on the dragons. He got back the baby, but the amped toxtricity wanted revenge on Hydreigon. They saw fit to put the child under another's care until they thrashed Hydreigon himself. It didn't happen. Hydreigon, impressed with their strength, allowed them on his team. They took it, thinking it would increase their chances of vengeance. However, the other dwellers became irritated with them, well, mostly the toxtricity, and pressed them at all sides. Grimmsnarl feared for their safety, and he warned his mate to back out and leave. She was adamant and refused. He left here shortly before her passing, and I haven't seen him since."

"He went back to the forest," Morgrem said. "Or someone else got him too," he added, his voice lowering. "So that's her history. Now what did Hydreigon want you to do?"

"Very much the same thing," Toxicroak said with disgust. "Woo her, become her mate, and once she had a child, the mountain lord would snatch it and use it as leverage against her.

"Grapploct and I found her face down, near the riverbank. She was badly wounded from several bite marks, but alive. We fixed her up with bandages and berries. Once she awoke and could walk, I told her to flee and not return. Otherwise, she'd be a repeat of the amped toxtricity, who now we're positive is her mother."

"Let me guess, she went to her mother's homeland after," Morgrem said, having reasoned this when with Ruby.

Toxicroak nodded. "It was her only option left, although she intended to get answers from them anyway." He bobbed his head to the north. "Her mum's old band might accept her, reject her, or kill her. They might let her return because she's female. When her mother was here, she said psychics would periodically kill them off to keep their population down, but they can't get them all— which explains why they're hard-wired to have young like crazy. Hydreigon knew this."

Morgrem reached a dead end concerning his rival. Her fate remained unknown, and he hoped she had been received well by her mother's band, for he knew she had the skills to find them. His eyes focused on the boulder Duraludon touched, but the pokémon since left his sight. His jaw remained set and his body taut as he tried to make sense of what the outside resident told him.

"What's still eating you?" Toxicroak called. "Looks like you ate some belue berries."

"Did that grimmsnarl have an impidimp with him?" Morgrem asked, feeling strangely small as he imagined himself before his evolution.

Toxicroak studied the goblin and narrowed his eyes. "You?"

"He might just be my father," Morgrem blurted out, his words coming out thick as he pondered the supposition. "Only if my memory in those days wasn't so vague, but I remember traveling with my father at a point…" he rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hell, I don't remember where. Who did the couple give their kid too? If they gave her away, I probably was too at the same time."

"I'm not sure," Toxicroak said. "Have any ideas?"

"I didn't think this went so deep, but why she would keep it under wraps is beyond me." He crossed his arms and glared at an indistinct point on the mountainside. "She was my guardian and Hydreigon's old enemy: Dragapult."


"Now Lass, I support you and your decision. It was wise," the senior Medic explained.

The Director, her grandfather, and junior Medic stood inside the rocky medicinal dwelling, where she got the opportunity to work with the band's elder. She was fraught with questions for this old toxtricity, and he was one band member that she attached to quickly. In some ways, he reminded her of Reuniclus or of Dragapult, who might be ten times his age.

Junior Medic, also a low-ender male, was about twelve cycles old and was supposed to have taken over for the medical needs of the band, but the oldest bandmate insisted that if he stopped working, he'd probably stop altogether. The elder could have retired if he wished, but even in his advanced age, he didn't want to slow down. Now that his long-lost granddaughter had returned, it seemed a spark had reignited in him: hope.

"To think it would have ended in Scavenger's hands," she said as she removed pine needles from the branch she was holding. The band, for the most part, eschewed being led by Scavenger when the Premier kicked the bucket, but the Premier wasn't that old. Director learned from her elder that he could lead another ten cycles or more. "Makes my spine tingle. We shouldn't need to contemplate that fate anymore, though." Junior Medic looked at her with a doubtful expression. She asked the two older toxtricity, "Why couldn't one of Sentinel's younger ones have taken the spot?"

Junior Medic crushed some payapa berries in a bowl with a pestle. "The oldest is always heir. Low enders do not assume title of premier," he said simply.

The Director noticed he spoke as if these were ancient customs no one questioned. "Has an amped toxtricity always led the band?"

Her grandfather answered, locking eyes with her for a moment. "In almost every case," he stated.

"Why? Has there been an exception?" she asked.

The elder held up a finger. "Once," he began, "About twenty cycles before my birth, a low-ender led the band. However, this was because the band was almost wiped out, and no amped punks wanted to take the position. It was even rougher back in those times. Yet, that low-ender… he did a fair job, as my own grandparents told me. Still, as Junior said, he was not called the premier. He kept his evolution name, much like Sentinel."

She protested, "Why is it ill-advised for low-enders to take the job?"

He set the glass bottle he was holding on to the table he was working at. He was putting alcohol and herbs in the bottles to steep: tinctures. The elder put his hand on her left shoulder and said, "They got by, but didn't prosper. Not to mention the mentality to stick to mates only in the band started around that time. I think, being with us this long, you realize that there are also non-physical differences between our forms."

"Yes," she said, her eyes lighting up with insight. "We behave differently. Just compare stolid Fisher with effervescent Forager."

"Then there's you, Sentinel, and the Premier who toe that line." He beamed at her. "Yet you're still much like I'd expect from your form. Other pokémon wonder why we're privileged enough to have two." He clicked his tongue. "Amped ones think we're extras half the time, but we're the ones keeping them in check."

"Are you implying one form is better?" she dared to ask, a smirk playing on her face.

"Ours," junior Medic claimed as he sampled the payapa potion he made.

The elder snickered. "Our kind has debated this forever and will continue to. However, seeing how both forms react to change and catastrophe, I have to say neither."

"Spoken like a true wise 'mon," she said, rolling her eyes. "I expected that answer."

"Oh, that settles the debate with you. Some toxtricity go their whole lives asserting their form is better."

"Let me guess, the amped ones?" she asked with a matter-of-fact tone. Junior Medic snorted as some glasses he touched clinked against each other.

"Oh, they're more likely to declare it from the top of the rock, but you'd be surprised. The low-key ones do too, but in a quieter, less showy way." Her grandfather placed a hand on his chest and proclaimed, "Like 'we live longer than you amped forms, you know?'"

She shook her head and prodded her grandfather lightly on his side with her elbow. "Not pointing out any examples I see," she replied. "But seriously, why are they're so many low-enders in the band now?"

"More low-enders are born after periods of conflict. Amped ones increase when times are more stable."

"Well, that explains a lot. The psychics, the raiding, the inbreeding, the low numbers. You've been stable for what? A few four-seasons now?"

"Mostly since the last assault…" he trailed off. "The Premier hasn't quite been the same. Not that he's on a downward spiral now, but if something else happens, you must help him handle it."

"He has nightmares," Director said, recalling his haunted face the evening she went to his chambers. "It's like he can't put words together when that happens."

"Trauma does that. It was terrible that night, but…" he stopped. "If it wasn't for his taking over, we might have killed you when you first showed up that day. Pretty much everyone we didn't know we assumed was an enemy, and we still think like that even now."

"Old habits die hard," she said automatically. "I'm grateful for being given a chance. It's a bit overwhelming now, considering I'm waiting in the wings." She closed her eyes, recollecting the conversation she had after their training session five days ago.

Once her grandfather left, the Premier stood directly in front of her. "Along this note, I wish to speak… about us."

The Director's face remained warm and tinged with rouge. The band leader just admitted that he liked her. Her mind suddenly flooded with images. The times he gawked at her a moment too long, how he always touched her shoulders, and how—the most blatant example— he strummed her in front of the entire band. Only mates did that.

Feeling uneasy, she asked, "You want to couple?" She considered if she was stupid for her reaction. Toxtricity hooked up all the time like no one's business. However, she felt she wasn't worthy of this one.

"In time. Our band has worked well under my sister and me, but she only came in since that skirmish. We need a system where both forms continue to lead together, because every other time one punk leads alone, and ego gets him and then the rest of the band. Lady, will you lead by my side?"

It all made sense now. He only used "lady" to address his mates. He still called Fisher that and used that term for her from day one, after he was sure she wasn't a ditto or a zoroark illusion. Should she say yes? No? The only other amped toxtricity she liked was Hunter, who was technically still Sentinel's mate. She thought he deserved better, but Fisher seemed to make up for that void, even if she couldn't bear children.

The Premier stared into her eyes. Unwittingly, she did the same, but mostly from awe at his proposal. She stuttered, "Is it not too soon? My training remains incomplete."

He inclined his head in recognition. "We will finish that first. I know you were raised differently that the rest of us, so excuse me if I'm going too fast. Will you help me out?"

"I'm unsure," she admitted. "Maybe I'd say yes to any other decent bandmate, but you're the band leader. I can't look like a weak sidekick."

"So that's it," he said, mostly to himself. "You doubt you'll be taken seriously."

Her face became impassive as she mentioned, "I already am, have you heard your sister? Not just that, but out of tune toxtricity don't get the top bandmate unless I offer you something. Is a babe enough, I guess?"

"Yes, it is, however, we need more than just that, as you offer this: you're from the outside. If you leave, no one else like you will show up. We need a new perspective if we want to thrive."

She crossed her arms. "So our alliance is strictly a political one."

He started to sound angry. "You will improve in time. Plus, you have other skills. And you haven't told me a straight no."

"I'd like a child, of course," she confessed, knowing that was his intrinsic reason to couple in the first place. "But I'm unsure how I feel about your band politics."

He looked at her askance. "You're frustrating me. I get your concerns, but ultimately, you're worried about the other band members and it's holding you back from giving me a clear answer."

She grunted and looked away. "Your band is on a crash course whatever happens next, whether Hydreigon returns or if Scavenger takes over. I agree with you there. Will I make any difference? I'm the weakest low-ender here, and the band has little faith in me. Are you looking at me through pink-tinted glass?"

"No, you're not the weakest," the Premier clarified. "That goes to my nephew Mason."

She rolled her eyes. "He's the youngest low-ender. He's how old?"

"Four cycles." He redirected the discussion. "But back to you. I've never seen such self-doubt from a toxtricity. Which is strange, considering your potential."

She grimaced at him. "I hardly see it, with how I'm belittled, and even worse, Hydreigon told me the same. He used arguments like that just to win me over so he could use me."

The Premier glared at her, a flicker of disgust playing on his visage. "You think I'll do the same, girl? I am not heartless!"

She held up her hands. "I make no accusations, leader. I have yet to access your character fully. So far, I don't know much about you, and excuse my language, you're not all there. I remember you that night."

The Premier stared at her a long moment, looking shrouded with shame. He lost his self-assurance and his guard heightened. He licked his lips and then said, "I'm aware of my…" He racked his brain for the proper word. "My limitations. However, that has nothing to do with our conversation."

She narrowed her eyes. "It does, Premier. If we become partners, I will need to learn about that," she said, crossing her arms. "You will tell me, won't you?

He looked away, and the Director watched him carefully as the Premier displayed a rare instance of fear. He brought his palm to his forehead and mumbled under his breath. It sounded like a curse. "I will need to tell that story," he told himself. "I'll tell you," he said, his voice straining as he looked at her. "And then the pieces will fall where they may."

Her eyes widened. Just how bad was that raid? He sounded like telling her the account would ruin him. Already divining she would, he asked her, "Will you leave when you finish training?"

"I'm unsure," she admitted. She closed her eyes, sighed, and then refocused on the leader. "I want to be a mother but won't be able to take care of a babe by myself. I've learned it's rough enough on the outside alone."

"What changed your mind in the past hour?" he asked, tilting his head with curiosity.

"I've been considering both. I have few reasonable choices. Either I train and then leave, or I train, have a babe, and stay."

"What would you do after the child's birth?"

"Raise the babe here with you," she said, her face blank, for she just answered this question.

"And if you left?" he asked, studying her facial features closely.

The words flew from her mouth without her thinking. Her face was stern, and her voice was gruff. "Avenge my mother's death."

He strummed his chest in satisfaction. "There's the real reason. From our first meeting I knew this has been troubling you."

"I feel I must offer her this one courtesy," she said candidly.

The Premier offered her a queer look, but the way his eyes twinkled conveyed he liked this about her. "You are one strange toxtricity."

"Is that a compliment?" she asked with a smile forming on her lips.

His mouth twitched, indicating he wished to smile, but his thoughts conflicted with his expression, and he became serious again. "Lady, do you realize you do not need to choose one or the other?"

She looked taken back and she straightened up. Her mouth parted in astonishment. She burst, "How, Premier?"

"I know enough about Hydreigon from what you told me, the locals I spoke to, and when he came himself. Once his lackeys reach here, we're good as dead if we resist, considering our paltry population. When he came up this way, he noted that about us," the Premier relayed.

She nodded. "I know we can't fight him on his own ground. We need to come up with some other plan. Storming his mountain is near impossible considering the patrols and the few entrances." She rubbed her chin. "Perhaps we can lure him out and corner him somehow. Otherwise, he'd just hit and run, like he did with me, but next time, it might be deadly."

"We need a period of prosperity once and for all," the Premier said. "I'd prefer our… child to live in such an age." A display of yearning crossed his face.

"Premier? I think we have a deal," she said, walking up to him.

His stressed demeanor eased, and a grin lit up his face. "Miss Director, I'm not perfect, but I try my best. I promise to treat you well while you're with me. Given our quest and my…past, I'll need your help." A pleading look danced in his eyes as he offered her his hand.

She looked at it and clasped it. She felt a jolt run through her body as the Premier then embraced her. She didn't know how he managed it, but his knack to listen and aid his bandmates displayed itself during their conversation. She didn't think he'd be so serious about their alliance that he'd fulfill her terms. At the same time, it corresponded with the band's best interests as well. However, that invasion held him back from thinking she'd remain with him. But for the health of the band, he was willing to try… which might explain why it took him a moon to work up the courage to court her.

He looked at her and said, "Thank you."

"I'm counting on you to help him," her grandfather said.

She inhaled a deep breath, taking in a whiff of earthy, crisp pine. She exhaled gradually. "I need to ask him about this raid." She put down the branch she was holding. "I'll be going now."

The elderly toxtricity offered his granddaughter a brief embrace. "Lass, know it's difficult for him to speak of it," he said as he broke away from her. "He's five cycles removed from that dreadful attack, but it continues to bother him. However, he might just need someone to hear his thoughts. Give him time." She acknowledged her grandfather's words and then exited the den.

The medical den was at the base of the cliff. She walked on to the warm common grounds. The cinnamon-colored clay soil was hot underfoot, so no idle bandmates lingered there. Being early afternoon under a cloudless sky, most of the band was going about their daily tasks.

Adjacent to the medical ward was the toxel's den, which was occupied by Forager, Taylor, Sentinel, and the band's three toxel. When the toxtricity noticed her, Forager waved, Taylor nodded, and Sentinel scowled. The elder low-ender still retained her authoritative scarf, at least until the Director completed training and bore a child.

The Director learned the two youngest toxel were Taylor's. One was two moons old and the other a cycle. Sentinel took great interest in them. She likely hoped they would become amped toxtricity upon evolving, but nobody could predict that yet.

Forager's toxel was almost four cycles, and he desired to evolve as soon as possible, for he wished for the toxtricity to stop treating him as a baby. Said toxel exited the den and walked up to the Director. The boy asked her, "Miss? Are you really leading the band now with the Premier?"

"Soon I might," she said, for she was in a probation period. She guessed he must have heard Sentinel grumbling about it since the Premier announced the pact to the band two nights ago. Sentinel started to approach her, but Forager stopped her by clutching her arm. An immediate perk of her alliance with the band leader was Sentinel no longer could bar her from speaking to the toxel, for whatever reason.

"You haven't been evolved long."

"True, but I've experience outside of the band we might need," she told him. At that moment Taylor gave her infant toxel to Forager, completely dismissing her mother beside her. Taylor shielded her eyes with a hand as she stepped out of the den. Her older toxel began to crawl after her, but Sentinel urged him back into the den in the shade.

"Right," Taylor remarked. "What makes you so special?"

The Director frowned, wondering what Taylor was getting at. "Excuse me?"

Taylor deadpanned. "You've been here a minute." Her appearance betrayed contempt. "Uncle's almost breaking his own rules for you. I daresay you have not earned this."

The Director's mouth twitched. She hadn't imagined Sentinel's youngest daughter to be bothered by her budding relationship with the Premier. "Maybe I haven't. But you know why it was done."

"For the good of the band," she said disapprovingly. "I stand firm. Uncle thinks you can help us, but I make no such assumption."

"As do I," Sentinel chimed in as she walked up to the three. "Your only use is to produce healthy babes, but that remains to be seen. Your playing still sucks, and I doubt you'll last long with my brother."

"I appreciate your support," she said, her face listless.

Forager's toxel looked at the related low-enders with an exasperated expression. He turned to the Director. "You're fine with them talking to you like that?"

"No, but I understand where they're coming from. I expected most of the band to not like what happened." Sentinel and Taylor exchanged axiomatic expressions. Forager kept her silence, but the smile on her face indicated that the Director was handling the situation well. "I can't make them like me. I won't try to either."

"Miss?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes, little one?" She smiled at him.

"You really wanted to fight a dragon as a toxel?"

"I did it to evolve. That was over four moons ago now."

"What if I did the same?"

She laughed. "You want to one-up me? I fought my guardian, but she didn't go all out. It was to teach me a lesson, I think."

"What lesson?" he asked, the expectant look in his violet eyes too irresistible to turn away from.

She bent down to the toxel's level. "When we evolve, we get an incredible jump in power. Yet, that doesn't mean you're unbeatable. No pokémon is…" she trailed off. She rose and turned before she felt roped to answer every one of this boy's questions. "Excuse me, but I need to find the Premier."

"What's this about?" Sentinel probed.

The Director flippantly waved as she looked back at her. "None of your damn business."

Walking away, she heard Forager's toxel say, "I like her."

"She better mind her tongue or else she might lose it," Sentinel muttered as the Director strolled away.

"Watch yours," Forager warned. "You know this. Don't get comfortable threatening the Premier's lady unless you want to become an outcast."

"She's not yet his mate, nor will she ever be!" Sentinel retorted.

The arguing quieted as the Director distanced herself from them. She witnessed Fisher and Hunter returning from the lake and forest, respectively, with their afternoon hauls. Fisher didn't regard her cousin at all, and the Director fathomed why, knowing her history with the leader. Hunter greeted her amicably, but he quickly returned to talking to Fisher as they headed to the toxel's den. The band would need to be given time to adjust.

The Premier at this hour would be in the forest, managing his connections with the local pokémon and seeing if they had any news. The Director learned that fostering connections with other species had been the Premier's job before he earned the band leader's title. Back then, he was called the Envoy. Considering how diplomatic he was, it made sense how he operated now, with her relationship with him the clearest example. It also highlighted why he wished to boot the old Premier as well— word on the outside claimed the toxtricity were weak and their leader incompetent.

The forest was warm and filled with a sweet aroma from the blossoming berry bushes. The grasses smelled fresh and perfumed as well. The greenery's bright scents were a contrast to the dusty, metallic smell of the dens and commons she sauntered through. On instinct, she headed toward the lake. Squawking from aerial pokémon sounded above. The toxtricity had little reason to fight the flyers, but the birds were at a disadvantage if they angered the brightly colored electric pokémon. Flying pokémon lived near the lake for a clear reason: it was filled with fish, and bug types too lingered near the water. As she strode past ash trees, she observed the lake several paces ahead.

At the water's edge, the Director looked around, seeing no other toxtricity in sight. She did, however, see a huge corviknight flying northeast above the forest. After the steel-type bird escaped her sight, some cramorant from the nearby trees flew down and plunged themselves into the water to make a catch. They were often regarded as unintelligent. She heard one call, "Look out!" She turned her head up, and she watched as a few cramorant torpedoed into the water. Others who heard the shout jumbled into each other in mid-air as they tried to assess what they were to be looking for. Some of the birds corrected themselves in flight, while the others tumbled into the water, causing the bystander toxtricity to laugh at the scene. The cramorant situated themselves and then noticed the electric-type looking at them. "Tocktick… Tocktree… Tock… nasty lightning-poison pokémon!" the same one called. The Director continued to chuckle at his attempt to speak her species' name. The birds still didn't know what to do, until the leader shouted, "Fly! Flee!"

The birds fled from her like zubat from hell. Even a thundershock could down an entire flock of the flying and water types. Behind her, she heard a laugh which echoed the one she made a minute earlier.

"And that's why we used to call ourselves punks." It was the Premier. "I thought you were with your grandfather, but when I checked camp, the band said you left to find me."

"Yes," she said without missing a beat. "I want to ask you about something."

He offered her a terse grin. "Band problems?"

She shook her head. "That's nothing new."

"So, this is personal." He tensed up and his face fell. He brushed his forehead like it had accumulated perspiration. He beckoned her. "Come," he said as he turned away from the lake. He waited for her to walk up to him, and he put his arm around her shoulder as they strolled. They meandered back into the forest interior until they found the familiar training glade. He guided her to sit on a soft, moss-covered fallen tree trunk near the clearing and then he took a seat next to her. "What would you like to know?" He sounded nervous.

She looked into his eyes. "Do you want it bluntly or should I break it to you gently?"

He put on a suspicious expression. "The former. With the latter a lie is often involved," he stated.

She broached, "I'd like to know about that night. The raid. I want everything on the table, Premier, if this will affect our relationship. Why can't anyone talk about it? Was it that bad?"

The Premier visibly stiffened. "It was difficult for us all. I almost perished. I almost lost everything."

The Director looked at him long and hard. That was peculiar language for him to use, for he spoke like he could've had worse than death. "What happened?" she inquired.

He looked straight ahead, lost in his thoughts. He then looked at her. "The band knows what happened. I can't tell just anyone my feelings." His gaze softened as he looked at her. "I don't want them to think I'm weak, but if you're to be my mate, you deserve the whole story." He looked around the glade, making certain no eavesdroppers were present. "This requires some explaining." He took her hand. "Promise me you won't hold this against me, what I'm about to say."

"I won't," she voiced clearly.

Her words did not abate his fear. He squeezed her hand a bit tighter, and then said, "My first mate and I coupled as soon as I evolved. We had a daughter not long after that."

The Director detected in his tone that he regretted doing something. He naturally continued after his brief pause. "My daughter just became a toxtricity two moons before the band split. She, thinking her father was cracked, left to go with the old premier. She was amped like me and would've been my heir. I don't know what became of her."

"I'm sorry that happened," she sympathized.

"Perhaps it was for the best. About a cycle later, I had another child. Another daughter."

The Premier stopped. He ran a hand down his frill. The Director watched him for a minute, wondering if he was going to continue. She squeezed his hand to remind him that she was still present. He nodded, albeit there was pain in his expression.

"I lost her too, and then my mate left me."

"That's very sad," the Director said. "My condolences, Premier."

"You might think otherwise soon," he garbled out. The low-ender observed him with a pitiful expression. The Director watched as he seemed to age many four-seasons before her eyes. He stared at a point ahead on the ground as a vision plagued him. His voice crackled with agitation as he burst, "There's no easy way to say this." He stood up, rubbed his neck with a hand, and then exhaled and sat back down. "Lady," he said, his face clouded with indignation. "Do you know the pokémon malamar?"

The Director's breath caught in her throat. This story was darker than she imagined. "I've heard stories from some elders in my younger four-seasons. I wouldn't want to get near one."

The Premier's face blackened, and his words flew out rapidly. "One of them came into our camp, along with some pokémon she had under her control. I was inexperienced, overconfident, self-assured, and was about eleven cycles, so still an asinine fool. The band retaliated against the lackeys, but that pokémon pursued me. She and her minions swiped any precious items we had, from evolutionary stones to healing kits. My lady and I bolted to defend the den with the toxel. That's where I came face-to-face with her. With no training against it, I fell victim to her hypnosis. I still remember her wicked grin while I was in that half-conscious state. Having got a hold of me, she went to the next phase. Toxtricity are weak to psionics. She knew just how to exploit me."

His frill had been dwindling, so he scratched his chest lightly. His notes came out as a screech, but he didn't care how they sounded in the moment. The notes conveyed distress or sickness. The Director resisted a cringe from the noise. At his best, the Premier produced a melodic sound which was pleasant to listen to. He lowered his arm and remained frozen as a statue for many heartbeats. His words were just above a whisper, and he admitted, "I ended up killing my babe and severely wounding my lady."

The Director looked at him with wide eyes, and her hands flew to cover her mouth. She was unsure of what to say; he had skeletons no doubt. She slowly put her hands back to her lap. A nagging voice in her mind told her the Premier was cursed, but she pushed it away. It wasn't an apt time to judge, for he was exposing this horrific demon to light.

"If that damn sod hadn't lost her focus, the band would've done to me like I did my girl. I'm glad my niece—Taylor— was spared from that wrath. My lady recovered, but she wanted no more to do with me and she left the band."

She gasped, "You couldn't do anything against the mind control!"

"It didn't matter that she knew that. One of her daughters was dead, and the other gone. On top of it, she knew her mate could kill her and almost had. Every time she looked at me, she remembered. I couldn't blame her. I allowed her to leave."

The Director's mouth parted in disbelief. "I would have never thought—"

"What?" he said, cutting her off. Her face flushed as she realized she should have stayed quiet, but it was too late. "I'd never guess that you faced two ancient dragons or got here by yourself." He started to gesticulate his arms as his emotions heightened. "Most think they know what's going on. You don't know. I'm Premier for life. I worked so hard for it. Then it was all I had left."

The Director shifted uncomfortably. "What about the band? You still had them."

"A few of the band died that night, and more left once they heard what I did. Although they knew the squid was the one truly at fault, they took what happened as a bad omen and wondered if I was receiving my just deserts for removing the previous premier."

She said, "That's no indication that you're cursed." A bad taste lingered in the Director's mouth as she acknowledged her own hypocrisy. "The band knows physics come through here. You happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Logically I know that," he articulated with frustration. "But it doesn't help me feel any better when I'm having a bad day."

"Does your affliction worsen when you're upset or stressed?" she asked.

He nodded. "Your grandfather said that it gets triggered by certain things."

"Do you know what caused you to falter the evening I saw you?"

He stared at her for a long time, and then he widened his eyes. In that moment the Director felt a pang of skepticism. She pointed at herself. "Me?" she choked out.

"I had been thinking of how to integrate you into the band that day," the Premier answered. "I became distracted. You remind me of my…" His voice was thick with emotion. "My first love."

She nodded slowly. "I see," she said unsteadily, feeling like she wanted to flee. She cast aside her discomfort before it took root and asked, "Premier… do you mind telling me the rest leading up till now?" The Director looked up at the sky and then down to the ground. "I sincerely hope this malamar has been buried."

"So do I, but alas, her dominated crew distracted the band enough to help her escape. She went beyond mere hypnosis. It's like she possessed my soul." He looked embarrassed as he shrugged. "That's the only way to describe it. I felt like my mind merged with hers until her powers wavered, and I managed to break free. I remember it all. I thought I was the problem until I found my own inner voice not telling me to go on a rampage."

"That's why you speak like you do sometimes," she said, realizing his soliloquies were a way of reaffirming that his mind was under his control.

"I fear she'll re-activate the link again. Thankfully, she had me only a few minutes, but it was torture enough. It's sickening, making pokémon do things against their will." His eyes narrowed as he snarled, "Reversing natures. Breaking minds. Turning allies into enemies. Some commit suicide after release. I'm sure of it."

The Director swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry. "You had such thoughts?" she asked, her hands trembling slightly. She never imagined this strong, robust leader having been at such a low point.

He scratched his arm near his lone cuff. He rotated it a few times and then said, "Admittedly, yes, I did. I ruminated for moons, wondering if it would've been better if she crushed my mind, or if the band took me out. Sentinel had to perform my duties for me for about half a cycle. I felt like I failed as Premier." He paused, looking at the foliage and then at the clear sky above. He shut his lids. "From all that happened, I later entered a phase where I became so disgusted with myself and my past behavior." He resumed looking at her. "I was much like my nephew Scavenger back before the attack. Eventually, I started to notice how stupid I was. Despite trying to lead the band on a better path, I was an arrogant jerk, having won my spot and flaunting it in everyone's face, like I expected them to respect me for that." He placed his hand on his chest. "I should've been grateful they let me live, but with our few members no one wanted my spot anyway. But there I was, in my chambers, living like an invalid. With the band's urging, I slowly started to serve as their Premier again. Around that time, Fisher began to comfort me… a lot." He laughed feebly and grazed his frill. "Sorry if I'm rambling."

"Not at all." She waved her hand. "I reckon you've kept this held in for some time."

He continued his recount. "Medic, my sister, and Fisher saw me at my worst. The younger band members don't know the grisly details of this story. Overall, we prefer to forget this ever happened." He threw his hands up as if praying. "I can't, no matter what I try." He sighed and a shiver ran through him. "The Premier is expected to display no weakness. Ultimately, I feel like I shouldn't have succumbed to the brainwashing in the first place."

"Premier," she said lightly, "You can't be so hard on yourself. You aren't a burden for needing help through something this traumatic. No pokémon is an island."

He looked at her critically. "I've put much baggage at your feet, Lady. I'd imagine you'd be disgusted by what I did, or you'd fear me. Why don't you?" he asked incredulously.

"You were controlled, in body and mind, by a pokémon who wanted to plunder and wreak havoc on a community of toxtricity. It wasn't you. It was her," she stated. "You aren't a monster."

"You believe that?" He still sounded skeptical. "I just don't understand how you're so… forgiving." His mouth remained open in sheer incomprehension.

Having talked at length with the Premier, the Director realized that these attacks and traumas explained her species' behavior. They acted pompous, rude, and tough, but those traits were just armour. They were in pain and taking it out on anyone who got close. It seemed to have settled into their bones long ago, and she could rationalize why they had isolated themselves, even to their own detriment. She grabbed the Premier's clammy hand. "Many pokémon hate our kind," she grumbled, her eyes blazing with revulsion. She looked at him and said, "I know what it's like to be shunned, and to feel alone."

"You understand," the Premier assessed, his words lingering in the air between them for several moments. He perked up, for her reaction to his tale released much weight from his shoulders.

The Director said, "Thank you for sharing this with me. I see how difficult it was for you."

"No, thank you, Miss Director. I…" Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips. The Director didn't press for him to finish. He carefully wrapped his arm around her and placed his hand above her tail. "May I ask about you now? Did you grow up as you said?"

"For the most part. The closest friend around my age was Eevee, and then there was my adopted brother, Morgrem. I liked my guardian Dragapult, her mate Appletun, and of course, the psychic who taught me many things, Reuniclus. As a toxel most of the community didn't like me, and I hadn't even done anything other than exist!" she shouted.

"I thought evolving would free me, but I should've known I wouldn't be treated any differently. It seems to have caused more trouble that it solved, really, but there's no going back." She paused. "My brother and I knew we couldn't stay there forever. We had to get out before they got us because they thought we'd get them."

"You had an agreement with him too?" he asked, and he received a nod from her. "What happened to this morgrem?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't leave with him. The community made sure that didn't happen. I wanted to learn about my mother's family besides. However, I know about that now, so I must ask: who's my father?"

The Premier smiled. "That's why I asked about your adopted brother because I think he's more than that. Everyone knows your mother's scandal. Your father is a grimmsnarl."

"What?" the Director asked sharply.

"Yes." The Premier chuckled. "Head west, and that's where the otherworldly forest is."

"You're saying my adopted brother might be a true relative? And I lived with him for six four-seasons and was never told that?" She erupted, "Why did Dragapult… Reuniclus… never tell me?" Her face clouded from her feelings of betrayal. She breathed out slowly. She had no proof of their relation, but it was remarkable that they grew up together so far from their corresponding birthplaces.

"Did you get along with your brother?" the Premier probed.

"Not quite," she replied. "What's that have to do with it?"

The Premier grimaced. "I've seen such. You're encouraged to argue with your kin, so you won't retaliate against the real foe. Many in the band still fear other bands, but I swear the rest of our kind are in same predicament as us. We haven't encountered an outsider toxtricity since Hunter came, and that was…" The Premier's look became distant as he thought. "That was a few moons after I took over."

"You're saying the community pitted us against each other so our familial bond wouldn't bring us together and retaliate against them?"

"Yes, however, in the end, it did," the Premier said. "But they threw you out, as you said, before you could get them."

"They feared us," she mumbled. "I get it now."

"They saw your potential strength, Lady. This was what I meant the other day. I didn't mean to demean you. I want you to see it in yourself," he told her.

"I never got much encouragement," she responded. "Premier, I understand why the band wants you to stick around."

She stood up, and the Premier did too automatically. Feeling an overwhelming sense of compassion flow through her, something she hadn't felt since she evolved, she hugged the Premier. He was slow to embrace her, but she noticed his remaining tension seemed to melt away. He rubbed her back gently, examining her twin frills as he did so. The low-ender sensed he hadn't performed any affectionate acts in quite some time.