Author's Note: This fic is set in the same universe as WTMR, 4 years after the still unforeseen events/ending of WTMR. (WTMR = Where The Moon Rises, another Pokemon fic of mine.)

Note: No knowledge of the Colosseum or XD games is needed to read this fic, hoorah. This is my own take on Orre with lore that I'm cooking up.

This story was written for fun.

Reviews and comments are welcome. Malicious remarks and destructive criticism are not. Please remember that the people behind the computer screens are real human beings with feelings.

CHAPTER 1

A voice, low and trembling, came from the other end of the keelboat.

"Lass, are you absolutely sure about this?"

I cracked open green eyes. So much for getting a quick nap in. The ship captain, a middle-aged man whose name I hadn't bothered getting, stood by the steering pedestal. I'd lost track of how many times he had asked me the same question, but I wagered this was the twentieth or so instance.

We hadn't even set sail yet.

"It'll be about a day's ride. Rather short, but like I said before, the real problem will be the mother sea," the captain continued. The desperate gleam in his eyes and the hurried pace of his words were all blatant indications that he hoped I'd change my mind. "Those waters are infested with a great number of predators. They won't be the least of our worries, either. Pirates, lass. Lots of them round those parts. They seize any ships they see."

He paused, dragging a weathered hand down his face.

"It'll be dangerous. I'll give back all the money you gave me, so—"

"I'm sure. Very sure," I assured him. Irritation prickled at my skin, but I did my best to ignore it. He's just scared for our safety, I told myself. He's only a civilian. "Don't worry about wild Pokemon attacks or pirates. I hired guards for the journey, didn't I?"

Said guards stood at attention off to the sides of the ship. Each of them was a professional trainer with experience fighting naval battles, but I hadn't hired them to protect me. They were here to put the ship captain's mind at ease—fat lot of good that was doing so far.

"Besides," I added, and I leaned back against the ship's railing with arms draped around sun-kissed metal, "my Pokemon will be more than enough to handle any issues. You just focus on getting us there."

The thin half-coat I wore shifted in place with my movement and revealed snatches of metal objects that glistened under the sun. For a moment, I saw the ship captain's eyes dart to the many worn and battered Pokeballs attached to my belt.

He paused physically in place.

"Didn't you say you were an apothecary?" he questioned in a strained voice.

I smiled. He was right. That was how I'd introduced myself when we met.

"I did."

The ship captain gave me a strange look. He didn't say anything for a long time, but eventually a long and resigned sigh was heaved out from his chest.

"So be it. We'll set sail in five minutes," the ship captain finally agreed.

Thank Arceus. Hopefully he meant what he said and would drop the matter here. All the constant questioning had been fairly annoying in all honesty. I had no idea if it was the exorbitant fee I'd given him that won out against the desire to preserve our lives, but I didn't care.

I had a place I needed to be.

The ship captain turned with a shake of his head. "As long as you're sure," he called over his shoulder, and then I heard him mutter to himself. "Why ever would such a lass want to go to Orre…"

"I'm sure," I replied softly, but the man had already walked off. He didn't hear me.

The wind bore witness to my next words and carried them away to the land that called my name.

"I was born there, you see."

I could have gone to Orre by passing through the Unovan border.

I could have, but I didn't. My past experiences in the zone between Orre and Unova — the Raider's Stretch as it was distastefully called — were far from pleasant ones. Perhaps I was a coward, but I didn't want old memories being stirred up by setting foot there anytime soon.

There was also the fact that I didn't want Unovan border security somehow figuring out who I was. My record was clean in their books, yes, but only under my real name.

Hopefully they never made the connection. I wanted it to stay that way until the end of time.

And so, to avoid the gaze of Unova, roundabout sea travel it was—on an ordinary keelboat known as the Davies Runner no less.

We had embarked from an unnamed island off the shores of Unova first, a little rest stop for passing ships. That was where I met the ship captain, hired mercenaries who were loitering around for work, and finally put into motion a journey that I had been dreaming of forever.

More than half a day had passed already.

Bored and unwilling to talk to the stoic guards, I curled a strand of lavender hair around my finger and leaned into the ship's railing. I'd tied my hair up into a high side ponytail like usual to keep it from getting everywhere, but I didn't get to play with it for long.

The duffel bag sitting on top of one of my suitcases rustled. Faded, grass-like fur and a white snout peeked out of the opening before retreating back inside.

How much longer, child? Elder asked. I do abhor all the swaying.

I hummed out loud. "About… three or four hours I think? That's what the captain said earlier at least. We're even going to get there ahead of time because of good winds."

Thank the Creator, the same elderly voice muttered, and my bag shook once more before going still. Never again do I want to get on this incorrigible contraption you humans call a ship.

"This isn't your first time though, gramps," I drawled back, smirking.

The only response I got was a resigned huff. Then all I heard were the caws of wild Wingull flying overhead. Most likely, my traveling companion seemed to be trying his best to nap.

With my source of entertainment gone, I went back to gazing out at the Sapphire Ocean.

It was aptly named. Morning rays from the sun made the deceptively calm waters glisten like a bed of shining jewels. The horizon went on without end, but I knew that in a few hours, bright blues from the sky and ocean would finally meet rocky, arid land.

Until then, I was stuck on this ship feeling bored out of my mind. My Pokemon were busy conserving their energy inside their Pokeballs for what we had to accomplish later. Almost without thinking, lightly tanned fingers curled around the small pouch inside the pocket of my shorts. A shiver ran down my spine, but it was one born from excitement.

Why couldn't we get there already?

"Ouch."

My excitement immediately cooled as I turned at the quiet exclamation of pain. There by the mast, one of the guards I'd hired rubbed the back of their neck with an expression of utter discomfort.

Instincts kicked in as I called out to them.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

The guard jolted in place. His face flushed with embarrassment at having been singled out by his employer.

"Nothing," he quickly assured me with a wave of his hand. "Just some sunburnt skin."

Instead of expressing sympathy, I clicked my tongue at him and shook my head. "I thought you were used to conditions like these," I sighed, voice full of disapproval. "Did you not apply enough sunscreen? Or did you forget to reapply?"

The following silence said everything.

Still shaking my head, I held up a hand. "You're in luck. Get over here."

The guard looked alarmed. With stiff, awkward steps, he came over and stopped a few feet away from me. I knew I looked downright irritable sometimes, but did he have to be so afraid? It wasn't like I was going to push him overboard or anything.

I looked at the back of his neck first and whistled out loud. Oh yeah, that was some really bad sunburnt skin he had. Angry red splotches galore.

"Any allergies?" I asked when I circled back in front of him.

The guard shook his head. Good.

"Hand," I told him as I reached into the messenger bag I wore. I had to repeat it again before the guard complied with an expression that was a mixture of fear and confusion. He held out a trembling hand to me.

It only took me a second to find what I needed. I had the contents of my bag memorized and organized to a scary degree. A little tube was pulled out, held above the guard's hand, and squeezed. Out came a small amount of cream that was deposited into his palm. The scent of lavender drifted from the innocuous substance. It usually smelled like nothing in particular or at the very least clean, but I liked infusing scents into my treatments these days.

"Moisturize your neck with that. It'll help treat your sunburn," I explained.

"O-Oh! Thank you."

The guard went on to hand out compliments like 'wow, so refreshing' after he applied the cream to his poor neck. He only asked a question after he was done.

"What product is this? I don't think I've seen it before. I'd like to order it after this job is over," he politely inquired.

I put on my best business smile. "I'd be happy to sell you some if you'd like. I made it myself. The main ingredient is Pyukumuku mucus."

The guard stared at me.

"…Huh?"

"Pyukumuku mucus," I helpfully repeated, still smiling. "Slime, basically, from said Pokemon. It's lightweight, hydrating, and good for reducing inflammation. That's what you just put on your neck."

For some reason, the guard looked like he was on the verge of tears when he walked back to his post.

What a shame. A chance to earn more Pokedollars had slipped away from me. It was a wonder more people didn't appreciate Pyukumuku moisturizing cream. Maybe it was only popular in a few countries.

Dealing with sunburnt skin was not the most exciting thing to happen on our voyage in the end.

I said it earlier, didn't I? Deceptively calm waters.

Thirty minutes later, the guards I'd hired broke the news to me and the ship captain. Their Water type Pokemon out at sea had sent them signals from afar.

"Tentacruel approaching from the side! Thirty of them! Ten are breaking off to attack us from the rear."

Well, that explained why we hadn't seen any fish Pokemon in awhile. They'd all been scared off. Out of many predators of the sea, Tentacruel held a solid place near the top of the list and were not to be trifled with. Their appendages were a lot faster and stronger than people initially assumed. Their kind had sent many ships to sunken graveyards.

Our ship captain was well aware of this. Over on my other side, his face paled at the words being repeated by the guards.

"At least it's not Stinger," he mumbled out loud as if to console himself.

Stinger was the name of a notorious Tentacruel around here that was famous among the seafaring community. A very large and very powerful Tentacruel, but not quite on the level of a Guardian or Ruler yet—the most powerful Pokemon to exist in the wilds. Some of those had lived for hundreds of years and could contend with even the strongest of trainers.

Well, even if our opponent had been Stinger, I wouldn't have worried.

I thought they were making too big a deal of this Tentacruel group, too, but I supposed it was natural to fear for your life out on open seas.

I couldn't relate. I had seen and lived through hell already, so not much scared me anymore.

"Cheer up," I told the captain with a shrug of my shoulders. "Having such a large group of Tentacruel around these parts means there aren't any pirates around to mess with us. They've probably steered clear and gone back home."

It wasn't like I was wrong. There were a lot of pirates off the coast of Orre who were desperate to loot bulk carriers and the like for supplies, but even they valued their lives. Most knew to call it quits when predators drifted through the seas.

The ship captain still gave me a funny expression as if he couldn't understand why I was so relaxed in this situation.

I swept my gaze over the guards and made an instant judgment.

"You guys take the group of ten," I ordered. "I'll handle the other twenty."

In unison, they all looked at me — a young woman who was only twenty-four years old — like I was insane. I just waved a hand over my shoulder and walked off to stand on the ship's foredeck.

Nothing was going to interrupt this journey to my homeland.

Certainly not a bunch of jellyfish.

"One should be more than enough," I muttered to myself. I couldn't afford to waste energy here when we had an important job to do later.

In a quick, fluid motion, I unhooked a Pokeball from my belt and let it fly. Whimsicott made her presence known with a giggle once I caught the falling capsule.

"Tentacruel. Twenty," I told her. "Don't play around, okay? We're close to Orre. Quickly beat the fuckers up."

Language, a voice from my bag chided. Looked like Elder was awake because of all the commotion.

I blew hair out of my face and rolled my eyes.

"Sorry, not sorry," I retorted in a singsong voice. "Can't change who I am."

Whimsicott cackled, and that was all the notice I got before strong winds blew into existence.

They roared.

Swirling, chaotic, rapid winds pushed at the ship's sails and sang their impatience, but the ship did not capsize. It was spurred onward instead in a straight, steady course for lands unseen and yet so near.

The winds also took Whimsicott for a joyride—one that she was in full control of.

She was gone faster than I could blink. By the time I did and brushed flying hair out of my eyes, the living ball of cotton was already a small dot out at sea.

She was also not alone.

The waves beneath her rippled violently as tentacles shot out by the dozens, but no matter how far they stretched, no matter how powerfully they jabbed— They could not reach their target. Whimsicott flew up, up, up with a joyful scream, and she pulled the ocean with her.

Winds blew up instead of laterally now.

The sea's surface exploded as water was wrenched into the atmosphere through a funnel of wind. It became a waterspout full of flying Tentacruel spinning around at dizzying speeds and a Whimsicott zooming around them. From the way she waved her hands around and cackled, she resembled a mad maestro conducting an orchestra to a song's finish.

I sighed to myself with a shake of my head. I literally told her not to play around, but there she was doing exactly that. I was so busy shaking my head that I missed the ship captain's mouth hang wide open like a Magikarp.

Perhaps he'd never seen dozens of Tentacruel trapped in a waterspout before.

As if sensing my thoughts from afar, Whimsicott finally decided to finish the job. A single vigorous shake of her body sent bright spores falling everywhere. The waterspout sucked them in. Whimsicott let the whole thing spin like a mixer for a little more before clapping her hands.

The winds broke apart. Water dropped, and with it, twenty paralyzed Tentacruel that fell with heavy splashes.

They twitched erratically as they floated on the water. Whimsicott left one final touch, and that was raining down a storm of water-repellant cotton. Soft balls of fluff fell with gentle plops and stuck the Tentacruel together so that they resembled a massive raft. From their cottony folds, little buds sprouted vines that formed the shape of a Tentacruel face in the air.

Ten out of ten for artistic vision, I thought to myself with a pleased smile.

"A little landmark for your return voyage later," I explained casually to the slack-jawed ship captain standing next to me. It seemed his mouth was hanging open even wider now. "You'll know it's the Tentacruel we beat up. They shouldn't pose a problem for the next couple of hours. Whimsicott gave them an appropriate dose of Stun Spore."

I had just glanced over to check on the situation at the ship's rear when the ship captain finally managed to speak.

"D-Didn't you say you were an apothecary…?" he quietly squeaked out the same question he'd asked before we departed.

I crossed my arms, smiling.

"I am. I'm also a trainer."

The ship captain blinked rapidly at me without pause.

The hired guards proved their competence by easily taking care of the other unwelcome guests by themselves. We didn't have any problems after the Tentacruel incident. My earlier claim proved true, thankfully. No pirates roamed the waters much to our ship captain's relief.

Hours later, and with much anticipation on my part, we docked on land at long last.

If you took any other place with a harbor in the world—Olivine, Castelia, Slateport, and Coumarine to name a few—and compared it to Gateon Port, the difference was tremendous, and very much so in a negative sense.

Gateon Port was one of Orre's biggest (and only) human settlements, and it was shabby.

The roads were not really roads in the true sense of the word but trailing paths of uneven dirt. Only the grounds closest to the wharf were actually paved, but even those, too, were made of old stone slapped down carelessly without proper chiseling. The buildings across the city were constructed in a similar shoddy manner. Their stone facades were chipped, worn, and beaten all over again by strong winds from the sea and sandstorms alike. Those battered exteriors reflected the people who lived here.

Unlike other cities in the world, they walked around in broad daylight carrying every manner of weapon. Firearms, axes, knives, spears—whatever they could get their hands on, they had it. Orre was hell on earth, and it was lawless. No government, functional or not, existed here. Hadn't for years. People looted, stole, killed, betrayed, and did everything in between at the drop of a hat.

They had to if they wanted to survive and live to see another day.

Their faces were gaunt from nights sleeping fearfully with one eye open and their bodies lean—whether it was from malnutrition or muscles built from strenuous treks across the desert remained to be seen. Their skin was baked red by the sun and marred by scars and fading bruises. A certain emotion was etched in their eyes. It even seeped into their rigid postures and hunched backs.

They were tired and angry at the world and this rotten dump they could not escape from. Perhaps in a different future, I might have become like them.

Countless eyes stared at me as I got off the Davies Runner.

I could feel their scrutinizing gazes. To them, I was an outsider. They thought I did not belong here. It showed in the way I dressed, my innocent-looking face, the nice materials my clothes were made of, the unblemished skin that had not yet been burned by the sun, and the Pokeballs attached to my belt. If not for the latter, they probably would have jumped at the chance to steal my luggage.

I knew what they were thinking. They looked at my appearance, my soft facial features and hair, and they thought I was weak.

It reminded me of a saying I'd learned from a wise apothecary in Johto. She had taught me what it meant because she believed it fit me.

Willows do not break but bend under the snow.

What looked weak was actually stronger than it looked. A person had to adapt to adversity rather than resist and fail.

The people of Gateon Port only thought they knew everything about me.

What they did not see, however, were the hands calloused from fights and learning to work the soil, the scars on my back and stomach from old raids gone wrong, and the weight of my burdens in every step I took. The way I carried myself, at least, was something the locals could understand. Their gazes sharpened.

Mine was the gait of a predator returning home.

I hauled the last of my luggage out from the ship and set both suitcases on the ground. While I draped the bag containing Elder over my shoulder, I pressed two Pokeballs on my belt and released Exeggutor and Flygon. The former mentally logged Gateon Port for future Teleport trips and started wrapping suitcases around Flygon's body using rope from my bag. I turned to the ship captain in the meantime.

"Thanks for the ride," I told him, lips quirking into a brief but genuine smile. I jerked my thumb in the direction of the ocean. "You should probably sail out of Orrean waters as soon as possible. Pirates might come crawling out."

The ship captain's eyes darted between me and the distrustful, wary strangers still looking in the distance. From the way he opened and closed his mouth a few times, I wondered if he was going to ask me if I would be okay by myself.

In the end, he settled for a stiff nod. "You be careful out here, lass."

"It's not me you should be worried about," I chuckled, spinning on my boot's heel. I waved without looking back. "It's anyone stupid enough to cross a gal and her Pokemon."

And nobody was that stupid in Gateon Port. Most of them probably didn't have Pokemon of their own due to the scarcity of them in Orre, but they instinctively knew mine were strong.

I heard the sound of the Davies Runner disembarking once more as I jumped onto Flygon's back, yet I didn't watch it go. My gaze looked ahead to dunes looming like omens in the distance.

As soon as Exeggutor finished strapping luggage to Flygon, I returned him for now and placed goggles over my eyes. I patted the base of Flygon's neck with a gentle touch. My starter crooned softly out loud.

"Let's go, Flygon," I murmured. "Let's go home."

He didn't need to be told twice. With a powerful kick against the ground, Flygon took off into the sky above Gateon Port. The vibrations from his flapping wings turned into a gentle song, one that guided us back to where we belonged. Dreary gray buildings zipped past by the dozen until finally, finally… they were replaced with a familiar, wretched sight.

An infernal wasteland.

Endless plains of golden, burning sands stretched as far as the eye could see, their glittering grains seared by an unyielding sun and warped by unnatural heat. They bled into crumbling rock and cracked land on the verge of splitting apart completely. Any hints of vegetation—small, hardy shrubs that were the last defiant stand of a fallen history—were nothing more than little specks stuck inside a shifting ocean. People could spend days crossing the desert and never make it to their destination. They fell to raiders, died of dehydration, or became meals for predators waiting for the chance to strike.

Either way, they were swallowed by the sands.

My eyes were drawn to mounds. Impossibly large dunes—behemoths of sand molded by the wind and taller than any mountains you could think of—rose into the air one after another. When I was younger and walked through the desert, I always worried they would collapse on me like vengeful tides. A little part of me had even accepted that perhaps that would not be a bad way to go. I toughened up quickly after that.

Dust swirled around in the air. Dry winds howled in my ears. Yet no matter how far Flygon flew, the landscape still did not change. I hated it. I hated everything about it.

It was barren, and it was Orre—land of forsaken sands and people cruelly forgotten.

But Orre was not always barren.

Once, it was rolling valleys awash with color and bounties from mother nature.

Once, it was a place of verdant greens and a paradise on earth.

It was a region that rivaled all the biggest and most affluent civilizations in the world. People wanted to settle down there. Other countries desired it for their own.

Once… it was a land of beautiful spring.

But those were times long ago, barely a century in the past, and a mirage in the desert wind. Humans greeded. Disaster struck. The gods who once blessed these fertile lands stripped away their Gifts and left everything to perish in the Great Decay.

Now Orre was nothing but desolation incarnate.

I took one hand off Flygon's neck to squeeze the tiny pouch hidden inside my pocket. Years of traveling, years of learning, and years of training—I had dedicated everything to this barren country, and I always would.

Soon, Orre and the world would see.

And it would begin in the place I was born.

Flygon sensed my impatience. He knew today was the culmination of all our efforts, and he flapped his wings harder. A mix of draconic and flying energy wove itself into the air around him to increase his speed. He became one with the wind.

What was supposed to take hours trickled into one.

The sands did not end, but they did reveal an unremarkably small settlement—a nameless village built among the ruins of a once grand city. It would not show up on any maps, either. No one ever bothered to note such places down. It was easy for little settlements like this to vanish overnight from a host of terrible scenarios.

Me, my mother, and the locals—none of us ever gave it a name when I was younger, either. We didn't think it was necessary. We didn't know if we'd live long enough for it to matter.

This nameless, rundown village, hidden and almost buried in the sands, was where I was born.

Flygon did not land, not yet. He hovered slightly above the village while I yelled.

"DARK SANDS, DARK WATERS!"

My shout managed to carry farther than I thought, but nobody came out of little huts built from automobile parts or half-collapsed houses of stone. I knew people were here. They were just hiding and unwilling to come out.

All but one, the person I called for with a curious phrase that should have been known only to two.

A guy my age came out from a dilapidated stone building with a Krokorok at his side. Huh, so he'd managed to achieve his own dream after all. The young man took a few cautious steps forward, brown eyes squinting up at me and Flygon with puzzlement.

It was now that Flygon landed on hot sands. I threw myself off his back and stepped closer to the guy with the Krokorok, stopping a few feet away from him.

He stared at me until his eyes widened.

"Well, I'll be damned," he finally said in a voice full of wonder. It was obviously much deeper than I remembered. A grin split his face apart. "I thought you were dead after all these years. That you, Lin?"

I smirked, twirling a strand of hair from my ponytail between my fingers.

"Linnea Turner in the flesh. I told you, didn't I? That I would come back someday."

Green eyes glimmered with ambition and a vision of what Orre would become.

"I'm going to breathe life into this country again."

Author's Note: I challenge you to a tongue twister. Try saying Pyukumuku Mucus ten times out loud. Do it. :)

Last new idea. My Pokemon fics so far cover the lives of Gym Leaders, a young trainer in a post-apocalyptic world, a Ranger, and now a trainer slash apothecary. I don't think there's anything else I want to write about at this time (a Coordinator story is a hard no before anyone suggests it, I don't have the brainpower to write genuinely cool and non-cliche/basic Contest routines).

I bet none of you expected me to write about a medical-related occupation in the Pokeworld, but it interested me, so here it is. Look forward to seeing more traditional medicines and things made from Pokemon products later. I know I am. I have a bulleted list of notes cooked up already.

And for anyone wondering, no, our heroine does not have a certain small and Mythical Pokemon on her team. 'Elder' is only a traveling companion, and as his name suggests, he is very old. He does not fight.