Heart of the Pokémon: A Mother's Christmas
Something was wrong.
I lifted my head from the warm confines of my three walled plush pokemon bed and looked around at the darkened shapes that filled the Outpost welcome center. Vague outlines of mountain trails and waterfall paths quietly traced patterns across the log cabin walls. Enough pinecone studded garland rimmed the mantles, window sills, and shelves that it was easy to forgot I was still indoors. From the glittering ornaments dangling from the ceiling to the ribbon threaded wreath on the door, everything was in its rightful place. An old metal cash register sporting vintage push buttons sat heavily, but contently, on the wood counter that was likely carved from somewhere in the woods nearby. Paper snowflakes, carefully crafted with only the best glue and glitter, plastered its sides.
Brightly colored bells dangled from the ends to match the jingling collections tied to the doorknobs. A small plastic Christmas tree balanced the register on the other side of the counter. I preferred the real one in the corner. Nobody ever seemed to notice when the popcorn strings in its boughs went missing. Large shiny bulbs bobbed over the fireplace. Podiums of trinkets, snacks, trail mix, and custom apparel peppered the space between the counter and the front door. Brochures and maps of the surrounding mountains filled the stand along the wall, untouched and unread. The wood floors were a little dusty, but otherwise empty. Travelers didn't hike the mountains in winter.
Ever since the humans rescued me from a gang of grunts and set me free on their mountain, I established a small patch of territory at the welcome center. As a result, I learned who came and who went. What was routine, normal, and consistent. The comforts of domestic life did not dim my senses. Rats and mice and other pesky pokemon quickly realized after trespassing in my domain that the wild was much safer than this cozy log cabin. Is that what disturbed me, a creature that did not learn its lesson? I looked around again. None of the humans' lunch boxes were missing or jostled. All of the food packages were intact. Although, I wouldn't have minded if some biscuits fell on the floor. I wasn't allowed to touch any packaging otherwise. The humans fussed about it if I did.
Was the intruder still on the outside trying to make their way in?
The brass doorknob of the front door remained undisturbed. Nothing scratched at the bottom of the frame. I peered through the frost on the window. The multicolored lights strung along the rim of the roof were out. The ones on the inside that came to replace my starry skies since coming to the range were also dark. The usual hum of machinery had died down. It was colder inside than what the humans liked to keep it at. The power must be out. The wind had picked up. It howled loudly, rattling the windows and thrashing snow against the glass. Bedecked in the purest of whites, the swirling flakes glowed against the darkness even without the moon to shine on them.
Storm clouds covered the sky. A blizzard had moved in. The humans must have foreseen its strength because the wooden board they used to cover the small plastic flap in the door was up. Normally, they only did that when they wouldn't be back for some time. They also set out additional food and water for me before they left earlier in the day. I glanced at the two silver bowls off to the side of my bed. One was filled with water. Small hard bits formed a high pile in the other. I still could not bring myself to eat much of them. The taste and texture were just too different from what I was used to eating in the wild. I missed the days when I could run through the grasslands with my pack, free and ferocious, but they had no need of an old Mighty Hena like me. Not anymore.
I had long since resigned myself to my fate. It wasn't as bad as I expected. Going from cage to cushions had its perks, and although the bitter wind reminded me of the winters of home, I did not miss freezing my fur off or shivering to sleep at night. I no longer had the den filled with many Mighty Hena to warm me, so I would make do with what I had.
My joints popped as I got up. I did not need the humans fussing about to know when a storm was coming. With only a few uneven steps, I walked around the large counter filled with figurines, antiques, and artifacts to the back. One of the humans kept a blanket on the chair. They liked to use it when typing at the little screen and keyboard on top of the desk. The blanket was covered in hand stitched patches and plaid. It smelled like the center, of chocolate and candy and candle wax. Pine and cedar and all the good things I learned of since coming here. I grabbed the blanket with my teeth, pulled it off the chair, and dragged it across the floor back to my bed. The humans kept the cushion next to the stone fireplace.
The hearth was cold, but the glittering minerals I might catch in the light from moon, sun, fire or otherwise reminded me of the den. The place I used to raise generations of Mighty Hena pups. Too often did I fall asleep looking at them, reliving those moments in my dreams. Tonight would be no different for although the shadows dulled their glitter, my memory was still sharp enough to fill in the gaps. With a few carefully placed steps and a well-timed turn, I curled up in the bed so that the blanket fell over me. A groan of a sigh escaped me, yet even as I slowly warmed, I could not get comfortable. No matter how I sat or slept or rested or tugged, a thorn of discomfort pricked me. It was not the cold that bothered me, but this something else. Something I did not think I would ever be able to feel again.
The Spirit.
That which gave purpose to life. A life I left behind in the grasslands where my pack still roamed. Yet, the Spirit called to me. Even so far from home. So I got up with a sigh of a different sort. Settling matters of the Spirit was neither simple nor easy nor generally in my best immediate interests. I knew when I first came to these mountains that they would be needy. Balance already existed in this place from one end of the range to the other. The mountains did not need me to tend to them. They already had a shepherd of iron and steel to watch over them. Yet here they were, nagging a tired old Mighty Hena to get up on her paws in the middle of a cold snowy night. They were spoiled and in need of a good nip.
I looked about the store again. This time, feeling with the Spirit. I saw nothing out of place. Smelled nothing new. The wind wailed threateningly outside. Such a despondent voice it had. Then again, it was so miserable out even a blizzard could complain. My ears lifted a little higher. They tilted sideways, catching a cry that was not bitter or apathetic, but scared. Tail sweeping behind me, I trotted over to the back door and the flap I used to come and go from the center as I pleased. The humans removed the security door, but the flap was accidentally left latched in place by a small little hook. I sighed again, practicing all the ways that I could.
With a hop and small touch of my nose, I popped the lock free and pushed my way through the portal, squinting as the cold wind slapped my face. Having come from the dark confines of the cabin, the snow covered wilderness was bright like a full moon, but shrouded with precipitation. The snowflakes quickly caught onto my dark mane. I waited a moment, adjusting to the exposure and bracing myself against the cold. My acclimation skills were slower than I remembered. Napping by the fireplace most of the day weakened my resilience. But once I returned to the ways of the wild, I trotted out into the snow with my usual unwavering endurance.
I did not get far before the wind shifted. It twisted and bent around the trees surrounding the welcome center, masking the wails I heard from inside. The snow was powdery and light, but deep enough to threaten my gait with hidden sticks and roots, fallen branches and rocks already scattered across the ground. So, I stopped and listened again, lifting my nose to try and catch a scent, but the wind was too fierce. I folded my ears back. The tips were already growing frosty. It was dangerous to stay out too long.
I closed my eyes and reached out with the Spirit again. All things were filled with it, but it was as unique to each of us as a Mighty Hena's markings. A light gently burned to life in my spiritual awareness. Its glow was colorful, but steadily growing weaker. Who or whatever it was wasn't doing well. I picked my paws into step again, turning my head away from the wind when it whipped snow at my face. The lashing intensified, rippling the fur along my back. I curled my tail in and braced through a gust. I was closer to the other one now, but they had stopped moving. They cried and sobbed, colors diming. The creature was lost and could not feel and see and smell me as I could it. It needed hope. Otherwise, it might be lost for good. I winked open an eye in the swirl of icy crystals.
This storm thought it could best me. It took great pleasure in keeping me from my goal since I was so brazen to step into its tantrum. I was not from the mountains, so they thought to test me. Foolish stormy peaks. Mighty Hena very rarely became lost. Our voices were far too strong. There were few who could best my howl. I threw back my head and raised my voice, proud and strong and filled with energy.
Too long had it been since the wild heard my call!
Snowflakes swirled off of me in a hurry as I pushed the wind and snow away with the power of my voice. I became a dark black mark against the snow in the rift it created. Even the darkness of the woods failed to reach my depths. This made me easy to spot, and in turn, I finally found the one who had been crying. It was a human. A boy. Dressed in long red pajamas, oversized boots, and a puffy black jacket. He was not dressed as I usually saw him and certainly not for the weather. His cheeks were bright red. Nose and eyes, runny. He clutched his chest as if he were holding something, but I saw nothing there.
Maybe it was his heart? Was he hurt? Ill?
Upon hearing my howl, the boy looked up and saw my dark marks against the snow. A beacon in the night. Shadow turned light. Even as the snow fell back between us, he did not lose me. Bested by my Spirit, the wind calmed around us, settling with a heavy, but calm, snowfall. I waited as the boy trudge up through the woods toward me with new vigor, stumbling a few times along the way as unseen twigs and sticks snapped underneath his boots. I saw him around the mountain before. He liked to follow the other humans and play with the creatures they kept around, especially the woman with the Old Spirit. I generally kept my distance from them. I did not understand the ways of those creatures, pokemon as the humans called them.
They were not of the wild. But I was not about to abandon this hatchling of a human, especially when he cried to the Spirit for help, intentionally or not. When he came close enough, I turned around and led the way back to the welcome center cabin. When it came within sight, relief surged off of him. As goofy and awkward as they were, the boy's steps quickened. I went through the flap in the door first. He followed with practiced ease. Only when we were in the relative quiet shelter of the cabin did I realize the boy was talking to me and probably had been since he started following in my paw prints, rattling on between chattering teeth.
"I'm so glad you found me," he said.
"I thought I was a goner."
"The center was this close?"
"Gee wiz, it's cold."
"I wasn't even scared when I saw you."
"My parents told me not to go out in the storm and that we'd take Sprout to the clinic when the weather cleared up, but he got worse and I couldn't just leave him."
"Aria knows everything about pokemon, and I know my way up the mountain, but I guess I got lost in the storm."
"She isn't here, is she?"
"I guess nobody is…"
On he went until his body refused to do anything aside from shiver and he remembered how cold and scared he was. Hugging himself tightly, but not too tightly around the front, the boy shuffled over to the light switch and flicked it to no avail. He then hurried over to the phone on the desk, reached over the counter and picked up the receiver. No sound. Growing frantic, he jumped up and snatched a handheld radio from the shelf. It snapped on with the buzz of empty static. There was no signal strong enough to pierce the storm. He would have to wait it out. The boy shivered harder than before and became quiet, shuffling with a stiff step towards the fireplace.
He made it to my bed before I got there and sat in it, taking the blanket tightly around himself. Drenched by the snow, he got everything wet. I thought to snap at him and take it back. The bed was my only refuge as of late, but I thought better of it. The boy had gone pale. A dull look filled his eyes and his lips were an icy blue. The clothes he wore were thick, but soaked through. He'd been out in the storm much longer than I had been. He also didn't have a thick multilayered coat that was naturally waterproof and insulated.
Humans were such fragile creatures.
It wouldn't do to leave the boy like that. Not after all the effort I spent finding him. He was no Mighty Hena, so I devised a way to warm him as the humans did. Otherwise, the Winter Sleep would claim him and not even a Dream Walker like myself would be able to wake him up from that. Luckily for him, I knew the ways of humans, and there was no faster way to warm him in these conditions than a fire. Already accustomed to the cold, I turned back and trotted out of the portal. My paws were steady this time and plunged into the snow, lifting with the ease of a performance, high and pegging. This snowfall was nothing compared to the piles that sometimes accumulated in the grasslands where I was born.
Back then, I used to dig tunnels through the snow and create game trails that brought the pack much success when hunting. Breath frosting behind me, I crossed the night as another shadow slipping by. The snowflakes continued to gently fall, afraid to stir another howl from me. I trotted up to the woodpile the humans kept not far from the cabin. A wooden lean-to protected it, so I had no problem jumping up and taking a chopped log in my mouth.
Careful of the splinters, I dropped back down and trotted along the same path back to the cabin. It took a little maneuvering to get back inside, but it was nothing compared to hauling a carcass into a den filled with hungry pups. The thought gave me strength and filled me with warmth. My claws clacked on the wood as I made my way over to the fireplace and dropped my burden on the floor. Only then did the boy realize I had gone somewhere. He lifted.
"Hey, where are you going?" he called.
I answered by going through the flap again. Trotting through the snow became easier and my muscles relaxed. By the fourth log, the boy recognized what I was doing and tried to follow me out of the portal.
"Oh, I see!" he exclaimed. "Let me help!"
I whirled around with a growling snap. He flinched back with a gasp, eyes wide as I left out of the flap. I paused and looked back, waiting to see if he would listen. The bottom corner turned up. I growled. The flap went down a little, then came up again a few moments later. I growled louder and added a snapping bark. It quickly dropped in place. I waited again. The flap remained still. Satisfied, I continued on my way, and when I returned, the boy was waiting for me behind the flap. He tensed with wide eyes, afraid I would growl again because we were so close, but I passed him with little more than a glance. I was on a hunt of sorts now, and each time, it got a little easier.
The boy held the flap open for me so I wouldn't have to waste time and energy pushing through it. He neatly arranged the wood by the fireplace so I did not have to find new places to put it. With new light in his eyes, the boy went around the store pulling paper and tinder and matches from their packaging. The welcome center was filled to the brim with such things. After a while, all I had to do was drop the pieces by the door and the boy ran them back and forth.
"You stack the pieces like this," he said, telling me things every time I came around.
"The wood is really great. Very dry. I'm glad we chopped it all this summer."
"This one is perfect."
"You get the best pieces."
"Holy smokes, look at those bite marks!"
"I need two hands to hold this one!"
By the time I had a stack big enough to hold him over for the night, the boy had a flame in the hearth. He whooped for joy, bouncing up and down. It reminded me of my pack, especially Jumper and Omega, Mighty Hena who always became excited at the smallest things.
"They should promote me from Teddy Scout to Ursaring Leader!" the boy proudly announced.
When the fire was softly crackling away and the wood was stacked on both sides of the fireplace, I stopped to catch my breath and rest a while. The boy now sat on the stone of the hearth, so close to the fire I thought he might burn along with the logs I brought. Whenever he moved away, he started shivering again. His clothes were still very much damp. They would never dry fast enough to keep off the chill. Better to rid himself of them now instead of trying to wait them out. Given the fact he hadn't rid himself of them already meant I would have to show him how. I got up, and with a shake of my fur, tossed the remaining snowflakes from my mane.
The boy threw his hand up against the spray and laughed. He was quick to learn, glanced at himself and did the same. He then pulled clothing off of the shelves. A new hat and gloves, a shirt, sweater, and matching sweatpants, all grey with a black logo on them that looked like a mountain. They were a bit oversized, but they were better than before. When the boy finished, he transferred something from his old jacket into his front hoodie pocket and sighed. Now that he was content, I carefully lowered myself to the floor. The hardwood made my bones ache, but the boy was in the process of drying the bed while fussing over plastic and price tags, explaining how he was just borrowing the items, so it wasn't a big deal. Yet the way he pinched his eyebrows told me it was.
If he wasn't hurt or dying, none of it mattered in my opinion. One would think having a warm dry spot would be enough, but not for humans. The spoiled delicate little things.
A growl suddenly rumbled through the cabin and it wasn't from me. The boy put his hand to his stomach and longingly looked over at the packages on the shelves that were filled with all sorts of edible things. He fished through every pocket, coming out empty handed.
"I didn't bring my allowance," he despairingly admitted.
Which meant what he wanted couldn't be borrowed and the guilt of all the other things he took was building up. Just as I had learned not to damage those same packages, he learned to avoid them too unless he wanted to get yelled at and in trouble with the other humans. With a roll of my eyes, I got up again, muscles definitely not as warm as they were a few minutes ago. I grunted. The boy noticed. He watched as I walked over to the shelves and, finding something I knew to be tasty from the occasional piece tossed my way, took it in my teeth.
"Wait, you can't take that!"
With a trick of the head, I took it off the hook without a jingle.
"That's stealing!"
At least the boy was feeling better enough to shout. I tossed the packaged snack at him. The sound of it hitting the floor made him silent. He eyed it hungrily but wouldn't take it.
He was worse than a rebellious pup!
I walked over to the package, put a paw on it, and opened it with my mouth. Small round cookies tumbled out. I took one in my jaws, just barely between my teeth, walked over to the boy, and stood in front of him, staring. The blanket around his shoulders loosened a little. His face brightened with the light of the fire.
"Is that for me?"
"Well, it was on the floor."
"I wouldn't want it to go to waste."
The boy carefully lifted his hand. I dropped the cookie in it. He nibbled through it. Like the wooden logs, I went back for another, picked it up and dropped it in his lap. The boy's lower lip trembled. His eyes turned glossy once more. I didn't really understand why. Maybe he still felt scared and lonely and lost despite being in this familiar place? Pups cried when new things happened. They often found them scary and intimidating. So, I leaned in and licked his salty face just like I used to back in the den. The boy swelled, laughing through his tears, and fell forward, grabbing me around the neck. I stumbled into him, quickly sitting down so as not to bend my legs awkwardly. The boy continued to hug me. He felt much warmer than he looked. His hands knew exactly where to go around my shoulders and the smell of him matched the scents of the cabin almost exactly.
"Oh, sorry," the boy said, sniffing back the last of his tears.
He pulled away.
"The troopers told me not to touch you cuz you were from the wild and stuff."
Yet he couldn't help but pat my head when it was this close. I remembered My Man, the human I met while on a quest in the wilderness, doing such things. It was a pleasantly comforting sensation, so I let the boy do it again. Having broken so many rules already this night, he had no problem continuing the ritual.
"My friend Aria told me all about the boat you were on and the bad guys who caught you. Sprout came from there too."
The boy reached into his hoodie and produced a Bell Sprout, the Little Things that looked like plants and had yellow bells for heads. I recognized the little creature from our shared imprisonment at the hands of some rather nasty, scaly humans. He was a tiny thing, even for Bell Sprout standards, and in no condition to be out and about in a blizzard. The boy and I adjusted positions so he could set Sprout on the floor between us. The flower's head hung low, swollen with poison that naturally filled his bell like head. His tendrils were thin and wispy. Leafy appendages, dull and weepy. His small black eyes were even beadier than usual.
"Aria let me take him home because of the storm, but now he's sick."
A drop of purplish liquid dripped from Sprout's mouth to the floor.
"The clinic is closed because of the Christmas party in town. My parents told me to wait until they came back, but I thought Aria would be home by now. Sprout kept getting worse and I rushed out without bringing Charles, my zigzagoon."
Or real clothes for that matter.
The boy put his head in his hands as he looked at his charge.
"I don't know what to do."
Luckily for him, I did. Many flowers in the grasslands of my homeland needed harvesting for such ailments, but I could prune just as well. I took Sprout by the head, fitting it past my teeth, and carried him to a spot away from where we were. The boy scrambled after me, throwing away the blanket when he lost sight of us.
"Hey, come back!"
I closed my jaws and gently squeezed the excess poison out of the little flower's head. It dribbled over the floorboards in a rapid patter. I made sure to keep my tongue and lips away from it. The boy rounded the corner and spotted us, shouting in alarm, but I was already finished. I quickly released the flower and stepped away as the boy rushed in. I had to nip and tug at his elbow when he got too close to the poison. He jumped, startled at the touch of my teeth, until he saw the danger. Sprout wobbled to his rooty feet, already feeling better. A grand smile spread across the boy's face.
"Sprout, you're alright!"
"Your head is almost back to normal!"
He laughed and hugged the little creature. The boy then looked for me with more long lengthy words on his lips, but I had already left. This night was exciting enough for an old Mighty Hena. I slowly walked back to the fireplace, tired and weary. My tail swept the floor. The sound of claws tapping the wood finally ended. There was only the thump as I laid heavily on the bare floor, no longer bothered by its hardness. The thorn in my Spirit had finally lost its sharpness and that was all that mattered. I placed my chin between my paws and sighed, content with watching the fireplace dance with soft light. The minerals in the stone came to life. Glistening and twinkling like stars above the grasslands. My home. I sighed again, long and deflating, thinking how nice it would have been to hear my pack howl back to me when we were out in the storm. But these mountains were far too tall and wide for even my voice to conquer. A soft whine escaped me when I sighed.
Apparently, that was loud enough.
The boy followed me back to the fireplace, and upon hearing my longing, looked between me and the empty bed. He then dragged it in front of the fire, brushed off the crumbs, whistled, and patted the cushion. I opened an eye and closed it again. The boy looked around, grabbed another pack of cookies, opened them, and pulled out a few, shaking them in my direction. I ignored him. Something rustled and shuffled. I cracked open an eye and quickly lifted my head when I realized the boy was on the move. He knelt down beside me before I could get up on more than my elbows and offered me a cookie. I looked at it, then at him, and the light of his Spirit was so bright and colorful it reminded me of the meadows in Spring.
A little bite wouldn't hurt.
I took the cookie and crunched it up. It was much better than those kibble bits. Taking that as an invitation, the boy grabbed a variety of packages from the shelves, loaded more wood on the fire, grabbed both the blanket and Sprout, and prepared himself for a sleepover at the Outpost. Many packages were unwrapped. Treats fell to the floor. Giggles and stories filled the cabin up to the ceiling. Eventually, the fire burned low. The flames quieted to smoldering coals. Their insulated white and black skins pulsed with the heat within, keeping the welcome center far from freezing.
The boy fell asleep in my bed with me. He rested his head on my side. Judging by the smile on his face, he dreamt of sugary plum filled things. Having thrown the blanket over us, it became hot enough for Sprout to stick his head out of the boy's hood from behind his neck as if he slept in a little basket. I rested my head on the wall of the bed we all snuggled into and watched the snowflakes gently drift by the window. They gathered on the sill, framing the light of dawn as the sun melted away the storm. Having been quiet for some time now, the Spirit suddenly rippled.
Something shifted outside. I turned my ears to it. There were footsteps. Crunching snow. I lifted my head. A shadow fell over the front door. Jingling broke the soft quiet of the welcome center. Then, the short grinding of a key in the lock. The door swung open with a creak. I growled as the shadow of a person filled the doorway. The human stepped inside, pulling back its hood to reveal a tussle of bark brown hair. It was the woman with the old soul. The one the boy kept talking about. Aria. Covered in snow, flushed with exertion and a widening grin, she looked directly at us and lifted the radio in her hand. Depressing the button, she spoke softly.
"I found him. He's at the Outpost. That howl and your hunch about the smoke were right."
She then motioned at something outside to stay in the snow behind her.
"Is he alright?" a voice called rather loudly over the radio after her.
It had a woman's pitch, edged with a tense sort of relief. Aria looked around at the scattered bits of food and drink from our feast, the large pile of coals in the fireplace, mounds of bark chips littering the stone, and my two contently snoring charges snuggled in the blankets on the bed with me.
"He's perfectly fine," Aria smiled.
Of course, he was. He was under my watch after all.
Noticing my bared teeth aimed at the shadows in the snow behind her, Aria quickly closed the door. I watched as she rubbed her gloved hands together in appreciation of the warmth we created.
"10-4. We're sending up the others," another voice crackled over the radio. A man's.
It was about time they showed up. What kind of respectable human let their pup run about in the wild unattended? These humans could not be trusted with a task as important as raising the next generation. I would have to keep an eye on these young ones. I looked down at My Boy and his Sprout. They were not Mighty Hena, but that meant little to the Spirit. After all, the Spirit of the pack had many voices, and when one of them called, I answered. It was the Mighty Hena way.
I laid my head back down next to My Boy and sighed, closing my eyes with the feeling that my pack was no longer out of reach, even so far from home. I thought the Spirit was finished with me, but it seemed my services were still needed. Old habits were the hardest to break. I couldn't stop my tail from wagging as Aria quietly came over, sat down behind us, and stroked my back the same way the boy liked too. Only her hand had a special precision to it that knew how to stroke the soul at the same time.
"Good work, Mother," she whispered, and I remembered what it was like to have a name.
Matriarch of the Mountains. It had a nice ring to it, but it also carried great purpose. A challenge to any that sought the title. There was probably a reason the position was currently vacant.
But who better to fill it than Mother, mightiest of Hena?
