THAT's east? How the heck did that happen?

It was another clear day in the scrublands. On days like these, the dawn was a great orange wave building on the horizon, no clouds to intervene. Noibat would have found this beautiful, if he had been able to see it properly. Instead, he was watching the sun rise behind the plateau—not set, rise. He couldn't make any sense of it.

I definitely went east, away from the sun. I swear I did! Do I sleepwalk? Are there two suns?

The cave he sat in front of had the same spoon-carved walls and heart pattern as the one he'd entered yesterday. Except it was facing west. It was like the whole cave had moved!

There shouldn't have been an opportunity to move him in his sleep, he had drifted in and out of sleep all night. Not only was the bare rock uncomfortable, but the nighttime desert was loud. There was an entire colony of Woobats in these cliffs, constantly shrieking at one another as they did who-knows-what. Noibat didn't want to meet the neighbors just yet. He stayed inside and listened to their wingbeats, nervous that the kindly Woobat would have second thoughts about giving up their roost.

Ha, I bet the Woobats all teamed up to airlift me out of town.

All in all, Noibat took this paradoxical dawn in stride; he was past the point of skepticism. The sun rising and setting in the same place was no big deal if he really was in another universe. Yes, he was still curious, but he was much more concerned with his own survival. Noibat felt surprisingly healthy despite sleeping poorly, and his bruises were already fading, less than a day after his run-in with the cliff. This wondrous recovery came at a cost, however: he was getting very hungry and thirsty.

Anyone can survive being stranded in the wilderness for a day, I'm going to have to do a lot more than walk in circles to get out of here. But if the Woobat can live here, I can, too.

This casual optimism came as a pleasant surprise to Noibat. Besides being useful in a survival situation, it told him a little more about his own personality. He knew that not every human was like this. He resolved that in the spirit of this positivity, he would keep the un-name 'Noibat' for the foreseeable future. In a superstitious way, meeting the Woobat had legitimized this; the first Pokémon he hadn't nicknamed was the first to show him any sympathy.

Noibat looked up at the cliff face. Yesterday, he hadn't appreciated just how spectacular it was. The entire plateau was façaded with dark alcoves that stood out prominently against the yellow-brown rock. Noibat decided that this was the natural place to start exploring. There would be no shortage of proper caves there, even if the majority of the alcoves were shallow.

Maybe the Woobats stash their food up there, and I can help myself to some while they sleep.

The thought of stealing from the Woobats made him feel a bit guilty.

And I can find a new shelter so that that one Woobat can have their home back.

He stacked a pyramid of stones outside the cave anyway, just in case that didn't work out.

Unlike walking, climbing was significantly easier as a Noibat: his body was light and compact, his elongated feet found easy purchase on the rocks, and the muscles of his arms and trunk were adapted to the strain of flying. Nonetheless, he had many chances to practice using his wings to cushion a fall. Slowing down wasn't hard, but regaining height and landing gracefully proved impossible for now.

It was no coincidence that there was a Woobat in the first cave he found—the cliffs were full of them! He could often hear several Woobats' worth of muffled snoring in one cave. Everywhere with any value as a shelter was already occupied. If Noibat wanted a different cave, he would either have to evict more Woobats or content himself with a literal hole in the wall.

He risked investigating the occupied roosts when it sounded like he could avoid the Woobats inside. To his disappointment, none of them had any food or water stockpiled, or any other possessions for that matter.

I don't know what I was expecting. At least the Woobats keep their roosts cleaner than real bats do.

The sun beat down on his head as Noibat clambered up the steep slope yet again. He stopped to catch his breath with his ears level to the cave entrance, reluctant to lift himself that last step higher. It was obvious why these caves were in such high demand: no sane person would bother the Woobats up here. Noibat was clinging to the cliffside like it would throw him off. He'd pushed himself to climb above the lowest few "floors", and was regretting it immensely.

Remember your wings. Remember your wings. Remember you have wings.

He listened closely, then pulled himself over the ledge. There were no Woobats sleeping here! The cave must have been vacant for some time, because the heart marks in the anteroom were faded with age. It was the most inviting place he'd ever seen.

Yes! My own cave!

Noibat felt like he'd beaten the housing market. He forgot all about the commute to the front door.

One issue—the cave kept going. Each room was followed by a narrow corridor, and each corridor led to another small room. Twenty meters in, he hit an L-shaped room where the path forked. Noibat sensed his victory slipping away.

I could just claim the entrance of the cave, and that would be enough for me. But what if there's a swarm of wild Pokémon inside, and they sneak up on me while I'm sleeping?

Exploring the whole place before setting up camp seemed like the responsible thing to do.

The cavern cut its way into the core of the plateau, a meandering series of chambers and passages in the sandy brown stone. Navigation was tricky. Luckily, Noibat had the foresight to arrange stones into arrows as he went in order to keep track of the way out. He still had to double back many times when the route became too labyrinthine.

Hey, I wonder if I can echolocate?

"CEEEEK!"

Rather than an extrasensory map of his surroundings, Noibat got an earful of his own shrill voice. No wild Pokémon stirred to confront him. When he held his breath, the Tutumtutum of his heartbeat was all he heard. It was like termites had burrowed into the plateau and then abandoned it when the last morsel of nutrition had been gnawed away.

That isn't to say the cavern was boring. There were a variety of rooms, rooms shaped like rectangles, starbursts, and donuts. One had a deep floor which made a natural sandbox. Others were strewn with lumpy rock formations due to some geologic hiccup. Noibat found it oddly cozy. Being able to see in the dark certainly helped.

Either Noibats like caves by instinct, or having four walls around me and a roof above me makes me feel secure. Probably a bit of both.

He didn't feel like a Zubat lurking in a cave. The empty caverns spoke to something very human in him. It was magical. This place could have held hundreds of Pokémon, but it was his alone.

In his mind, he was a child again, building a primitive lean-to in the woods. The forest was all around him, a vaulted world vaster than he could understand. By some sacred process, he had transformed a few branches and an ordinary tree into a private fortress. A worried, paternal voice called out to him from somewhere nearby. He grinned and paid it no mind. He was safe in his fortress.

…

The forest vanished. He could not remember the name his father had shouted.

When I get out of this desert, I'm going to take a trip to the woods.

Noibat continued to explore the cavern until he knew he would get lost if he went any farther; it seemed like every dead end was canceled by two new paths. As fun as spelunking was, it had been hours and there was clearly nothing here: no Pokémon, no sustenance. Even the heart-shaped marks were gone.

Do I make this cavern my home base? I've looked everywhere, and there are still no wild Pokémon. Then again, 'absence of evidence' and all that. This could be the territory of a bunch of non-nocturnal Pokémon who are outside now—I should have thought of that earlier. I guess I can't sleep here after all.

Fascinating as the cavern was, Noibat was happy to make the cautious choice. He could do without another misadventure.

Suddenly, the floor underneath him yielded and snapped.

Noibat cursed internally. He had been relying on his hearing so much that he hadn't watched where he was walking. There could have been fissures! Or cave-ins! Even an underground river could kill him rather than save him if he bumbled into it and drowned. Unprompted, Noibat imagined how his big-eared skull would look wedged in some obscure corner of a cave for only the Joltik to gawk at.

Noibat dusted himself off and took stock of the situation. This fall was nothing compared to his ill-fated leap off of the plateau, but his stomach lurched like he was nosediving again.

Every inch of this cave swathed in webs, layers and layers of monstrous webs. The gray silk was dotted with amber beads that glowed with electricity. In the middle of it all was a Galvantula, spread out on a vertical web. The spider was larger than he was, and it had fangs like daggers—actually, those were daggers. The Galvantula clutched two crude knives in its pedipalps.

It took Noibat a few seconds to process this bewildering scene. Then he leapt into action, brandishing a shard of the collapsed ceiling, inhaling in preparation to scream as loud as possible. The Galvantula wasn't very intimidated. In fact, it didn't even respond. Its two primary eyes were looking in opposite directions, glassy with sleep. Noibat let his improvised weapon fall to the floor.

Oh thank goodness. I thought that was it for me.

He was glad that Galvantulas apparently couldn't hear well. A knife-wielding spider didn't strike him as someone he'd want to talk to. On the other hand…

Did that Galvantula make all of these tools?

The Galvantula's den was a neolithic treasure trove. Hammerstones, nets, ropes, and wooden handles were neatly stowed in silk pouches. An armory of knives and ax heads gleamed in the dim neon light.

It must be pretty intelligent to do all this! This could be the first Pokémon I can actually talk—

Noibat's eyes lighted upon the suspiciously Woobat-sized bundles suspended from the ceiling. He'd found a stash of food, but he wasn't hungry anymore.

He had to get out of here. Where was the exit? The electrified nodes were everywhere; he had no way of knowing which strands in the maze of webs were a deadly third rail.

There was nowhere to go but up. The hole he'd fallen through was near the edge of the den, where the floor of the upper cave grazed the roof of this one. On closer inspection, the ceiling there was not solid at all; it had been a canopy of webs, camouflaged by a thin layer of rocks. It seemed like the Galvantula enjoyed having four walls and a roof as much as he did. The collapsed section was two meters above him and no larger than his own body.

Too high to jump. But too high to fly?

Running off a cliff and trying to fall slowly was one thing. But jumping into the air and taking off? That was flat-out delusional. He'd also have to leap back onto the solid part of the upper cave, which meant running toward the perimeter of charged webs.

It looked like he had no other choice, though. Noibat hopped in place a couple times, warming up his wings. A full-body flap seemed to give the most height. He rehearsed running towards the wall and turning his quadrupedal gallop into a running jump.

Noibat sprinted at the wall. Whoosh. He missed the peak of his jump. He tried again. Whoosh. Fell short. Whoosh. Getting closer. Whoosh. Whoosh. He was trying not to disturb the webs, but it was impossible not to. Whoosh.

Whoosh. He pushed off the ground with the biggest gust yet. He had enough lift to make it through the collapsed section, but he was still jumping too early. He couldn't bring himself to leap into the embrace of the webs.

Come on, I almost have it. I need to just go for it. Where's that optimism?

Whoosh! Now Noibat was too far forward and too close to the ceiling. He threw up his arms before he could his head, the upstroke forcing him into an uncontrolled fall. His training from the plateau kicked in as he braked by cupping his wings. The whole motion was over in an instant—when his thoughts caught up with him, Noibat's nose was inches from the webs.

Zzzzt!

A spark flashed as his whiskers brushed against the electrified silk. He shrank back with a sound halfway between a chirp and a hiss, his already rapid heartbeat pattering in double time.

His fourth attempt was perfect, clearing the collapsed floor with room to spare. A natural-born Noibat couldn't have done any better.

He peered back into the infested den from the security of the upper cave. The Galvantula was still asleep, thankfully. Although this spider didn't elicit the same irrational terror as the long drop off the plateau, it was hard to say which he'd rather face again.

Noibat's attention was grabbed by something which glittered darkly in the low light of the den. A sleek cylinder was affixed to the top of the wall, totally out of place among the rough hewn tools. It was just barely in reach. Noibat teased the cylinder out of the webs with his talons.

What on earth?

It was a glass bottle!

The bottle was about five inches long, two inches in diameter. One end came to a flat bottom while the other end was sealed by a dark brown resin. The tattered remains of a strap were embedded in the resin, probably intended as a handle. The glass was faceted in such a way that he could not see inside, though it felt empty.

This looks man-made, but it definitely isn't just litter. It seems antique.

Noibat crept away with the bottle clutched in his claws. The Galvantula and Woobats didn't object.

It took him half an hour to admit he was lost. The arrows should have been foolproof, yet they didn't lead anywhere! He couldn't even tell if he was looping back on himself. Noibat gave up completely when he followed an arrow down a winding corridor, only to encounter another arrow pointing back the way he came.

There's no way I messed up this badly. Something's screwing with me again.

This cavern didn't feel so magical anymore. Cursed, more like. He held the hard-won bottle closer.

Brrrrm.

Noibat stopped walking. He had wandered off the original trail in hopes of finding a less disorganized offshoot. He was sure that he had heard something, a rumble below the ever-present beating of his heart. He willed his ears to open wide, he wanted to capture every scrap of sound.

Brrrrrrrm.

It wasn't his stomach, nor was it a cave-in coming to finish him off. He knew this noise. It was the thunder that seemed endemic to the scrublands, muted by a great barrier of earth.

Noibat tried to head toward the sound of the thunder. It was slow going, pausing to listen for the next thunderclap, keeping his eyes peeled for more Galvantula webs. The thunder echoed strangely through the branching rooms, but it became louder by the minute. Soon he could hear the wind, and the snoring Woobats.

The evening shadow of the plateau stretched in front of him as he exited the cavern. The sun had reversed direction again. That, or he'd walked all the way across the plateau. Noibat didn't mind, he was happy to escape in one piece, and with a prize to boot.

It was too tempting not to unseal the bottle. He tore open the resin to discover…

BOOM! the thunder interjected. The bottle was predictably empty.

Oh well. A little water would have been too much to ask for.

Noibat looked to the distant thunderclouds, the only clouds in the sky. He couldn't tell whether they were headed this way or would miss him entirely. Maybe a rainstorm had passed by while he was underground. The idea made him feel slightly ill.

I hope it rains soon.

He held the bottle up to his eye like an alcoholic on their last beer. Even in the shade of evening, its inner surface was a kaleidoscope of light. There was an intricate pattern etched onto the inside of the bottle, a shark fin wave ringing the glass dozens of times. He spent a few precious minutes admiring the interplay between sunlight and glass, trying to conjure up bright memories.