Chapter 5

Tracker's Tricks

August 21st, 1993

Luke's camera was currently equipped with a telephoto lens and set on a tripod. He had it pointed at a normal, brown Dodrio about thirty yards away. One of its head drank from a pond while the other two stood on lookout duty. It was a good, dynamic pose for Luke to shoot.

He had never found the reported "Shinies" among the Doduo and Dodrio in the area, not that he'd expected to. Finding so much as a stray green feather on the ground would have been a pleasant surprise. But he had expected to find more than five of these multi-headed birds in the two weeks he'd spent searching all about the vicinity of Tohjo Falls. He was a long way from rivaling Wendy's skill at this.

A sneeze threatened Luke's nose, which he tried to ignore in favor of getting the perfect shot. The bird's rightmost head tilted in a way that struck him as just-so, and he pressed the button. The click of the shutter didn't grab the Dodrio's attention, but the sneeze he might have tried to suppress did when it burst from his mouth. The two lookout heads spun straight toward him.

"Ah, shit."

In one motion, the third head bounced up and the Dodrio aligned its legs with where its heads were facing. Luke had Zoe's ball in his hand as the wild Pokémon charged at him. He lobbed the ball to so as to get Zoe between the Dodrio and the hard-to-replace camera (as well as himself).

There was no need to call for an attack: Zoe knew the drill. With a flick of her pendulum, she worked her Hypnosis on the Dodrio. The bird's course wobbled, and it slid to a harmless stop some ten feet away.

Hypnosis was usually a high-risk, high-reward move. With most Hypno, it was a low-risk, high-reward move. With Zoe, the risk was virtually nil. She had several years' worth of all-but-exclusive practice with the maneuver, ever since Luke left competitive battling behind. While this meant she was now utterly hopeless against a serious team with a competent trainer, she had no peers when it came to handling wild Pokémon with minimal fuss.

Two Dodrio heads were out cold, but one head was awake enough to command the body to its feet. Again, Luke didn't have to say anything. Zoe sent another round of thick-but-gentle psychic waves from her pendulum, and the last head was down for the count.

"Thanks, girl." Luke looked at the dozing lumps that comprised the Dodrio and sighed. He'd been hoping to get more shots out of this one. Instead, he would have to be well away from here by the time it woke up and went looking for whomever had pulled such a dirty trick on it. After it failed at this, it would probably be off like lightning to wherever its next destination was. Maybe east to Kanto, maybe west to Johto—it depended on which way its flock was, which was beyond Luke's skill to guess. He didn't even know why Doduo and Dodrio so often passed through this narrow strip of flat land to begin with.

If Wendy were here, he mused, she'd probably know where the birds were going before they did.

As he stowed his camera gear, he noticed how Zoe leaned forward to stare at the sleeping Pokémon. "Go ahead," he said. There was time enough to let her eat a dream or two, and she'd earned it. He watched the near-invisible disturbance of air rise from one of the heads and waft toward Zoe's eager nose. He wondered whether the dreams of wiry, low-fat Pokémon tasted "gamier."

After Zoe had eaten her fill and was back in her ball, Luke trudged off through the rushes toward the main trail. He supposed he was being too hard on himself regarding how long it had taken him to get a handful of Doduo and Dodrio pictures—much less for failing to find any green feathers. No, he wasn't Wendy, but who was? Besides, if he hadn't learned a thing or two from her, he may not have found any of the birds at all yet.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Wendy, he certainly would have missed the sign which led him to this last Dodrio. At most, he might have accidentally stepped in it.

March 8th, 1989

Luke struggled to accept the sight of Wendy sticking her hands into a literal pile of crap. It made perfect sense to him how the pile could be an important visual indication of a Stantler's having been here—what with its distinctive composition of small, dark pellets—but he could imagine no cause for manual inspection.

"Ah!" said Wendy, having crushed and smeared one of the pellets between her fingers. "See these thin fibers? They're from Lygodium fronds: 'Krabbyfern.'"

"Does it grow near the beach or something?" asked Luke, trying not to think about where those fibers had been.

"No, it's a forest plant. Picture a vine but with fern leaves."

"Why 'Krabby,' then?"

"Dunno. I'd ask—"

She cut herself off, her expression turning blank. Luke didn't push her to finish the sentence, just in case it was the subject she usually took pains to avoid.

"…I'd ask Nadine, maybe," she finally said, "It's the kind of thing she might know. Y'know, word stuff."

To Luke's surprise and relief, she could say this in a light, normal tone. She continued to perk up as she spoke on, leaving the touchy subject behind with encouraging ease. "What I do know is that scientists also call it 'Kanto climbing fern,' even though it grows in loads of other regions. Plant names are weird. Anyway, this Stantler must like to eat it."

And so, Luke's mind was forced back to the topic of Stantler droppings. Even if the clue as to its diet seemed potentially helpful, Wendy's unabashed zest for picking through Poké-scat still confounded him. As he often did when confronted with the perplexing, he opened his camera bag. "Mind holding that pose for a second?"

"Hm? Oh, sure!"

So Wendy said, but she shifted her knees and looked up at the camera instead of holding the pose, which meant Luke wouldn't be able to pass this off as a candid shot of a Poké-zoologist at work. On the other hand, the genuineness of Wendy's smile as she proudly held out a stool sample could make this a compelling picture in its own way.

"Okay… one second…" Luke adjusted his angle and distance to get her framed as best he could, then took the shot. "Thanks. I think I'll give this one to the Saffron Municipal Art Gallery. They can hang it up with the title, Bon Appétit."

In a blow to Luke's confidence in his comedic delivery, Wendy's eyes widened, and she asked with undisguised awe in her voice, "You really think you can get that in a museum?"

"Um…" Luke turned a bit red. This was ridiculous. "No, uh… It was the title. … Bon Appétit."

Wendy continued to stare.

"…You're holding poop."

It took Wendy another second, but then she busted a gut. Luke had to laugh too from how funny she thought his lame, botched joke was.

After they settled down, Wendy wiped her hands on some dead leaves and used some hand-sanitizer from her bag for good measure. "Anyway," she said, "I think Krabbyfern grows downhill from here, closer to the marshes. We'll look for tracks down there."

"Here" was in the woods just off Route 30, north of Cherrygrove City. They were off the trail because Luke had said in passing yesterday evening that he'd always wanted to photograph a Stantler, especially if he could catch it in the act of distorting the space around its antlers. He had said this with no intention of impacting their immediate plans, as the guide-booklet in town hadn't listed Stantler among the nearby species of wild Pokémon.

"That just means they don't come here in numbers," Wendy had said. "This is still their kind of habitat, and lone Pokémon go wandering all the time. If we get a little lucky, I bet I can find you one tomorrow!"

It had taken some convincing to get Aaron to concede that the Goldenrod City Gym would still be there even if they arrived a day later than anticipated. He had still opted to stay behind and train on his own, though. So, it had been Luke and Wendy alone since a bit before dawn, and now as noon approached, they had their lead.

"Just remember," said Wendy with her eyes fixed on the ground as they walked downhill, "once you've got your picture, I get to catch it!"

"It's all yours," said Luke.

The cheerful tone of her voice—to say nothing of the howls of laughter a minute ago—made Luke realize just how far she'd come lately. Not long ago, any mention of Nadine would have put her under a cloud for hours. On top of that, today she was probably in her best mood since…

Well, he told himself, since Nadine left to begin with.

It had taken Wendy weeks to get over the initial shock following that inexplicable day in November, but even during all the months since, she never seemed to be quite herself again—not as far as Luke could tell, at least. He didn't think he was the best judge, seeing as he hadn't known her for long prior to Nadine's departure. What he did know was that whether or not today's Wendy was "herself again," strictly speaking, she was doing great, which was a real blessing after all this time of not knowing what to do for her.

"Oh!" said Wendy in a loud whisper. "Look here!"

She crept up to a cluster of tall ferns, then waved him close and pointed at some mangled stems. "Here's Krabbyfern, and something bit the leaflets off here just a bit ago. The spit ain't dry yet."

Luke wouldn't have spotted it in a million years. He looked down for hoofprints, but didn't see anything.

"Tracks over here!" said Wendy, clearing the ground at a spot Luke had glanced right over.

Can she see through leaves? Luke wondered. Even without the obstruction, he could only sort of identify the faint impression in the dirt as being a Stantler's cloven hoofprint.

After examining this one and a few other prints ahead of it, Wendy announced her conclusion. "It went this way up the draw here, and not in a hurry. Might still be around. We're downwind, so that's super lucky for us. We'll go quiet from here."

They only went a few steps before Wendy stopped and turned around. "Just step where I step, okay? We don't wanna make noise. Toe-heel, not heel-toe. Oh, and get your camera out now. We don't want it to hear the zipper on the bag when we find it."

For the second time that day, Luke turned red. She was right about the camera, of course, but he hadn't even realized his footsteps were particularly noisy. He nodded.

When he had the camera out and its strap around his neck, they started again. He stayed exactly two steps behind her, not letting his eyes stray from her shoes. His legs were a bit longer than hers, so it wasn't much trouble to keep up. After a few attentive minutes, he could better anticipate where she would step next.

Every so often, Wendy would pause as she spotted more hoofprints, then would adjust their course accordingly. Luke got used enough to the routine so as to almost forget about the likelihood of his screwing this up, if snapping the wrong twig would suffice to send the Stantler running. He let himself focus instead on the simple task of following her lead. Toe-heel, toe-heel.

Suddenly, Wendy stopped cold. Luke looked up, and she waved him forward. His heartrate spiked as he guessed what this meant. Since he couldn't step where she stepped while she was standing still, he had to trust his own judgment in choosing where to place his feet in drawing up alongside her.

Toe-heel. One, two, three, four steps. No noise.

She pointed, and there it was: the first Stantler he'd ever seen, and much closer than he thought they'd get. He looked over at Wendy, who nodded. Her job was done. The rest was up to him.

He slowly, carefully pressed the sides of the lens cap to remove it, keeping his eyes on the Stantler all the while. It was grazing on a fern of the very sort Wendy had identified as their clue. He thought it looked engrossed enough in its meal to afford him some time, which he hoped wasn't simply wishful thinking on his part. He slid the lens cap into his pocket, and at last looked through the viewfinder.

He was about three steps to his left away from having two trees frame the shot perfectly. He looked at Wendy again. Somewhat to his surprise, he didn't have to get her attention: She was already staring at him as he worked. He motioned her to give him room, and she complied without hesitation or noise. It took him a few more seconds to step where he wanted to be, but he managed to remain silent as well.

Luke now had his shot, as long as the Stantler didn't move. He checked his exposure and focus. Both good. All he could have asked for was some distortion around the antlers, but he was far too nervous to feel greedy. He was about to press the shutter release when the Stantler looked up and over just enough to get its head in three-quarters profile. Perfect.

Click.

Even as Luke flipped the film-advance lever for a possible second shot, the Stantler jerked to attention. It didn't seem to know exactly where the sound had come from.

Then Luke nearly gasped: Its antlers and everything behind them appeared to swirl. Distorted space. And he already had his camera pointed at it. He felt his vision shake—he knew he had to take as many pictures as he could before he fell asleep, got confused, or began hallucinating.

Click. Click.

He was getting dizzy. This was his limit. He mouthed to Wendy, "You're up." He looked at her with shaky, bleary eyes. She was shielding her own and taking out a Poké Ball. She was about to throw it up high—Luke guessed to get her Murkrow, Lenore, in position to surprise the Stantler from above.

She never threw it. A shout startled them from far uphill: "Hey, Wendy! Luke! Let's get a move on!"

The Stantler ran off. It was out of sight in a matter of seconds. As his head cleared, Luke could only gape. All those hours of combing the forest, and it ended like this. He was about to say something to Wendy, some words of consolation for how she didn't even get a chance to try catching their quarry, but before he could, she shook her head and laughed.

"That's just how it goes, ain't it?"

Luke wouldn't have put it like that. He wasn't inclined to attribute this particular misfortune to a vague "it." If he and Wendy had been gone until dinnertime, sure, Aaron ought to have gone looking for them in case they were dead. And yes, they had said they'd be looking for Stantler "this morning," but it was only barely afternoon. Couldn't he give them another hour or two?

Since Luke couldn't quite bring himself to ask "What's his problem?" he instead said, " Someone's in a hurry," as he stowed his camera.

"Heh, yeah! I'm surprised he sleeps, he's so fixed on that third Badge!" Then she turned uphill and shouted, "Be back in a few!" her voice echoing all about.

"Cool!" Aaron shouted back.

As they hiked on up again with no need to avoid making noise, Luke supposed that if Wendy wasn't mad at Aaron, he couldn't complain. After all, even though she'd been serious about catching that Stantler, he knew she was also keen to get back to Goldenrod to retry the Gym. It might even be the case that she'd proposed this little excursion only as a favor to Luke himself, in which case it wouldn't do to be mad at Aaron on her behalf.

"Soooo…" said Wendy with a lilt in her voice, "did you get him good?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I think so. We'll have to see after I develop the roll."

Her question assured him that, yes, she was mainly here to be nice. Therefore, he shouldn't be angry with Aaron for acting like a selfish jerk all of a sudden.

…No, that was too strong. "Like a dolt" was sufficient, he told himself. But again, he shouldn't be mad.

"Can't wait to see!" said Wendy.

Yes, Luke thought, what mattered was how Wendy was finally getting back to normal. If she'd had fun today, that was more than enough.

August 30th, 1993

Luke sat with his back to a tree on the outskirts of Violet City, holding a third envelope addressed to him. He had to wonder if the Violet City Pokémon Center's staff was starting to gossip at this point. Mostly, though, he considered the implications of Wendy having walked back to Violet already. It didn't assuage his suspicion that she was following him. Granted, he didn't know when she had made it back to Violet, since he hadn't opened the letter yet, nor did he know how long she had spent in Ilex Forest. Enough time had passed that she could have just happened to be in Violet City and knew he would be coming back this way eventually.

Or, she was following him.

He rubbed his eyes, stood up, paced back and forth, and took a deep breath. He wanted perspective.

Naturally, it would be preferable if she weren't following him. But if even if she were, which he didn't know, there was an obvious remedy to the problem: not telling her where he was going next. Or better yet, not writing back at all. If the prospect of seeing her—and, if things went according to her plan, seeing Aaron next—was worrying him, there was nothing forcing him to keep it going. Nothing at all.

He decided. He would read this letter, stick with his first instinct on whether Wendy was genuinely following him, and leave their correspondence at that if she was. He had already done more than he was obliged to in writing back twice. It would only be reasonable for Wendy to interpret the absence of further replies as signifying nothing more than coincidence. Really, the return to the mean regarding coincidence. Absolutely no cause for disappointment on her part.

Luke mentally rephrased this simple decision and its self-evident rationale at least five times before finally sitting down again.

"Just open it," he said out loud. He didn't.

"Get it over with." He still didn't.

"It'll be nice. You'll like it." He had almost convinced himself, but he didn't like over-promising.

"…Probably," he added.

Now satisfied, he opened the envelope.

August 9th, 1993

Dear Luke,

First thing's first, happy late birthday! (I assume you're getting this after Friday, so let's go with "late.") I'd send you a cake, but I don't think the nurses will hold packages. Also, now that you're 15, you are officially my peer again until next July, haha.

Let me answer your JCS questions: I'm still not 100% sure, but yes, I'm seriously considering full-time when I age out! Everyone's really nice, and the boss told me she really wants to make it happen even if we're not allowed to sign anything yet. As for "Run-off Stops Here," yup, I've been working on that! Mostly water-quality testing, but I've also helped with the community outreach stuff. They let me "punch up" our latest round of fliers about which detergents to avoid. If you see a funny one, that's probably mine!

It's kind of weird. If you told me two years ago I'd be spending this much time in an office and not on the trail (and it's not a lot, just a week or two every few months) I'd say you were crazy. Sometimes when I'm sitting at a desk I think, "Why aren't I outside?" for a second, but it always passes. Like, I'm not itching to be done being a trainer, but more and more it's starting to feel like it's time. I always figured that being done being a kid basically was something that got pushed on you and you just had to suck it up until you got used to it, so it's strange feeling ready to be done before it's actually happened.

Lately, Nadine's been on my mind a lot. Specifically, if I could/should have done something different before she called it quits. I have seen her at home a few times since then, but never for long. We were cool, and she seemed to be doing okay each time, but I still feel bad about how much she missed out on. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't still miss her, too. For a while now, I've thought you were probably right back then and we should have turned around and made her talk it out more. Something was clearly hurting her, and we owed it to her—and us too—to try to do something about it, even if it turned out we couldn't.

On that note. I don't think I ever properly thanked you for how much you were there for me after that happened. I don't know if you were going out of your way to do more things with me, seeing more stuff off the trail and all, but it was exactly what I needed and it means a lot to me. So, thank you.

Next up for me is Goldenrod again, going to help out at HQ for a bit. Hope you find those green birdos!

Yours truly,
Wendy

For a while, Luke sat there without the incriminating math even entering his head. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear what was in that one paragraph. Even if it had all gone south— way south—eventually, to know that at least for a while, and for once in his life, he'd been in the right place at the right time and had actually helped…

It meant the world. There was no other way to put it. As it sunk in, he found himself feeling physically, literally warm. It was like he could feel his blood reaching, calming, warming his entire body. It had never occurred to him that this was anything more than a figure of speech.

When the math did enter his head, it was powerless to trouble him. Yes, she had clearly gone the long way around from Azalea to Goldenrod, whether because she was following him or to check for a reply from Aaron again, but so what? He couldn't feel anxious about that now, not with this letter in his hands. For once, everything felt okay.

He stood up. Even the weather was great. It was clear and warm, neither dry nor muggy, and there was a hint of the approaching autumn in each breeze. He stretched, smiled, and took to the path back to the heart of the city. Even as words he might write back to Wendy came to his mind, he felt like the "closure" thing people talked about was already here. And in that moment, he knew she would understand this too, somehow.

That settled it. He would call this a happy ending, with this perfect letter as the last word. This was it.

This was definitely, definitely it.