The train ride to Wedgehurst was mostly quiet. A few middle-tier pokemon trainers returning home for visits with their newly filled pokeballs proudly on display. A few looked around, trying to make eye contact to demand a pokebattle. Scoria fitfully switched between resting at my feet and hopping onto the seat to watch the passing scenery. The slow wave of her tail told me she knew we were returning home. She had always liked the farm and had excelled in herding the wooloos; leaving the mareeps for the yampers to manage.
Somehow we reached the turnstile without making eye contact with an overzealous middle schooler and I grabbed my singular suitcase from the luggage compartment before disembarking the train. A small hand signal had Scoria right at my side; ignoring all the coos from the children who wanted to pet my pokemon. It wasn't that I didn't trust her not to nip, but I was in a hurry and the walk to Postwick wasn't a short one.
Once we were safely away from the congregation of aspiring trainers I paused long enough to take a look at the small town I had left years prior. Still only notable for the large Pokémon Research center I could see a few other items had popped up over the years. A boutique that catered to both men and women and it looked like the Pokecenter and Pokemart had recently remodeled their storefronts. Still small, with wooloos no doubt grazing just outside the city itself Wedgehurst hadn't changed that greatly since I had left.
"Come on. Mom is waiting and our room is probably ready." The speech was more to motivate me than Scoria. Jerkily I pulled the handle out to start dragging my wheeled suitcase down the cobblestone road. A few of the older residents lifted their hands in shy greetings but most just ignored me as they attempted to go about their day without being stalled by the tribe of feral middle schoolers coming to visit Professor Magnolia.
"Hey, Cara!" A loud gruff voice caught my attention causing me to pause. A grin escaped me as I recognized the weathered and older face of my Grandfather's nearest neighbor. His haycart was mostly empty with a few bundles of supplies purchased in town and the mudsdale was familiar with a little streak of red just over the base of his tail.
"Hi, Mr. Sage, and you too Gypsum." I couldn't help but scratch along the mudsdale's cheek. The pokemon in question bobbed his head happily as his ears flicked forward in greeting before nudging me with his broad nose. The old draft horse remembered me and all the treats I used to sneak him when he grazed close enough to the fence separating my grandpa's farm from Mr. Sage's property.
"Sorry to hear about your Granddad. Bet you are here for the funeral. Hop on up. Plenty of room in the back." I didn't wait a second past the invite as I tossed up my suitcase before hopping onto the back of the wagon. The sound of clacking stones before the scrabble of nails told me Scoria followed my lead and had hopped up next to me.
"I see you still have that lycanroc." He didn't sound as pleased about Scoria's presence. Not that it was my fault that as a puppy she had enjoyed chasing his farfetch'd around their pond. She never hurt them, though she did enjoy collecting the leaks they dropped to return home and use for a chew toy. That summer was the summer of onion puppy breath, which was far worse than curry breath though much better than poffin breath.
"Yeah, I was tempted to leave her here with Mom, but she doesn't mind anyone but me, and even that is questionable." The snap of reigns and sudden jolt started our journey down Route One. The hills and Wooloo were nearly identical to when I left, with only a few more patches of land left to the wilderness than there had been before.
"Hmph.. Never should have left for the big city." He had made that same complaint five years earlier when I had returned for one of my sporadic visits. Mr. Sage was well known for his opinion on everything, his most vocal one being that us younger generation owed it to our elders to stay behind and tend to the family legacy.
"Too many of you kids being lured away. Now look, Chickory's farm is gone back to the wilds and the pokemon." I looked over at the area that had just started to fill in with long grass, a couple of trees, and a pokeberry tree. I tried to remember what the old woman who lived there had farmed but I couldn't fully place it. If I remembered correctly Iris Chickory was a widow whose only child hadn't come back from their middle school sabbatical in the wilds.
"Now to see Oleander's farm go that same way." The grousing caught my attention when he brought up my grandpa's name. My mom was my grandpa's second child and her older brother lived not too far away and had three adult children.
"I don't think Grandpa's farm is going that way. Mrs. Chickory didn't have any kids to take over, but Grandpa has Mom and Uncle Heath." I didn't like the idea of Grandpa's farm going back to the wilds and the pokemon who tended to overtake any bit of overgrown grass or harvest left out just a touch too long.
Before he could reply we had reached the edge Postwick. He didn't even really need to slow down, I had hopped off the slow-moving carts more often than I would like to admit in my childhood. Of course, at Twenty-eight, the landing left a few more twinges than it had a decade earlier. Scoria followed me landing with a bit more grace than I had. I shot her a side glare that read 'show off' which she answered with the canine version of a grin.
"Thank you for the ride Mr. Sage" I didn't wait for his reply before heading up the gravel drive that led to my parent's small home. Both of them worked for the Pokecenter in Wedgehurst, preferring the longer commute for the more affordable living provided in the small town. The exterior was the same as always, a neatly trimmed yard with a couple of ornamental bushes. Even with mom's meticulous landscaping habits I watched as a caterpie inched its way across the yard happily chewing on a few of the leaves from my mom's prized roses.
"Aroo?" Scoria's vocalization caught my attention as she looked at the other pokemon. She was already in her attack position and was just asking for permission to go after the poor bug.
"If you catch you, you eat it," I grumbled, knowing how she disliked the taste of caterpie. The rule prevented little dead bug type pokemon from being scattered everywhere. She gave a mournful huff before shaking herself out, the clacking of the small stones in the thick of her mane an audible display of her annoyance. Ignoring her grumpy response I finished the walk to the front door before knocking. Of course, there was barely a breath before the door swung open with my mom on the other side.
"Oh Cara, you came." Her voice was hoarse and crackled when she spoke. Combined with her red puffy eyes, and the handkerchief she held to her face made it clear she had been crying. Dressed head to toe in white, our region's color for mourning, she stepped back to wave me and my pokemon in. "Here let me take your bag.." She sounded disappointed at the lack of luggage I had brought.
"Thanks, Mom, but I can take it. My old room still good?" A look of embarrassed discomfort crossed her face as I started to head down the hall towards the room that had been mine. "and of course I came, I said I would." Sure I had to cite company policy, even highlighted the passage in the employee handbook that spelled out bereavement leave.
"Well, I wasn't certain if you were coming so I let your Uncle and Aunt use the room." Her hands twisted in front of her and despite the fact I suddenly felt like an outsider in my childhood home I tried to be understanding. My heart hurt because I lost Grandpa, but Mom had just lost her dad so I couldn't blame her for letting emotions override sense.
"That's ok Mom, I can stay at the inn in Wedgehurst or sleep on the couch. Up to you." Internally I spitefully wished my Uncle and Aunt a very uncomfortable stay in the small room with the twin-sized bed. Hopefully, the mattress that needed replacing three years ago still had that one spring that dug into the small of your back. As I said, I tried to be understanding, but I was still human.
"Why don't you stay at the farm? It is closer and no one is there." She trailed off not certain if the suggestion was appropriate. I tried not to show my distaste for staying overnight in my dead grandfather's home, but she was right. It was closer to both her home and the cemetery; plus being the farm Scoria wouldn't have to spend the night in her pokeball. Which was great since I wasn't certain where in my suitcase I had shoved the thing.
"That's a good idea Mom. If Uncle Heath's snoring gets too loud you can always join me." I made a show of smiling before giving her another hug. "I better head that way though. Daylight is going pretty fast and I don't want to deal with keeping Scoria from chasing every Hoothoot that appears at nightfall." Of course, I loved my pokemon, she was a good girl but her behavior was often problematic and as a newly evolved lycanroc she had been notorious for chasing anything that moved.
"Lavender says he got some nose strips to help with the snoring, but if it gets too bad I will risk the night-type pokemon to come join you." The shared smile between the two of us was enough to show that all was forgiven, or at least wouldn't be brought up in the near future. Honestly, I just wanted to get unpacked, take a quick shower, and allow myself to feel.
Once again I grabbed my bag before taking the small unmarked road out of town. It headed towards the tidy rows of farmland, each farm I could name the owner of; having had to apologize to them at one point of time or another for either myself or Scoria. She hadn't been the only mischievous teenager on the farm. The road started to get overgrown in places and ruts from wagons dipped lower into the ground where they had been worn through without having been filled in.
When I got to the farm and saw what it had become I couldn't help but start to sob. Grandpa had always been so proud of his farm and his small home. Instead of clean pastures, there was broken wood, jutting rocks, and weeds growing everywhere. The fences had fallen in places and the Milktank which had been a prominent animal at the farm were gone, along with the Wooloo and Mareep. Even the barn had half fallen.
"Oh Scoria, how did this get so bad?" I tried to stop the tears but only managed a few half-hearted sniffles before walking up to the front door. I pushed it open to see the interior mostly bare, though it was at least clean inside. Parts of the home had been closed off and I assumed they were in as much disrepair as the rest of the farm. Tomorrow was soon enough to face the ugly truth of the farm. Grandpa had simply let it go, assuming as Mr. Sage did, that no one would be taking over his family's legacy.
"Alright, food. We will eat then get some sleep." I put on my best brave face and like my mother buried any of my emotions under activity. I settled my suitcase in the only remaining room in the cabin. Grandpa's bed was still neatly made and smelled like him. Woodsmoke, sunshine, and peppermint - they should not have been a comforting scent when combined but it reminded me of Summer campfires, spooky stories, and laughter. I swiped the back of my hand over my face before turning back to the combined kitchen and living room of the cabin.
"Grandpa had to have something to eat," I mumbled to reassure my lycanrock. She was starting to look concerned that bug-type pokemon would be on her meal plan for the night. My first couple of cabinets were not promising but eventually, I found some coconut milk, a few cubes of shelf-stable curry paste, and a small half-empty bag of rice.
"Alright, we are halfway there. Let's see what protein we can find now." I plunked my findings on the bare counter before turning to rummage in the fridge. Mostly stuff to make sandwiches, a few cold cans of cola, and a couple of pokeberry muffins. Finally, I found a mostly wrapped package of sausages. One of the ends was partially dried out from being exposed to the cold air of the fridge but I could work with what I had.
"Not as good as ducklett breast, but better than nothing." I managed to turn on the gas stove, remembering where Grandpa kept the ignitor. Once the flames were set at just the right amount I put a pot of water and the uncooked rice on to boil along with a deep pan to start warming. While that all heated up I sliced down the sausage into slices and grumbled about not having any vegetables available to add. Once the water had reached boiling I turned down the stove there and tossed a lid over to let the rice finish cooking.
Scoria's ears had perked when I mentioned ducklett; a favorite meal of hers. A huffed sigh escaped her as she laid her head back down on her front paws when she didn't see any sign of a ducklet emerging. The sound of searing sausage and the rattle of the pot's lid filled the heavy silence of the room. I wasn't certain how I was going to get any sleep tonight, but I figured we could manage if we ate something.
Once the curry was completed and served; mine on a plate and Scoria's in an old pie dish I settled on the worn couch to turn on the television. Local events and news reports filled the air as we finished our dinner before finally retiring for bed. Even though I hadn't expected to be able to sleep, once Scoria's body heat added to mine I drifted right off.