River’s Vengeance


Very old image! xD

Filtered sunlight was cast down onto the packed earth through the canopy of the forest’s trees. The trees themselves swayed gently, their leaves swishing and welcoming the late afternoon. The Sun prepared for its journey across the other side of the earth, shining its last rays on the current expanse of land. Creatures of all kinds were beginning to store their young away after making the trip home, ready for their night meal. Insects such as flies were lessening, they too beginning to get weary.

Some creatures were grazing the ground for food such as bugs to feed on as they scurried home, or for grass before it would be coated in its morning dew hours later. Bird-like creatures above fluttered into their nests, bathing in the sunlight’s warmth before the last of it would slip away. The Moon hovered in wait for the Sun to pass its position over, the smeared whiteness of it not fully in view.

Despite what it seemed, not all were arranging their sleep just yet...
A great oak peered down upon two forest inhabitants to watch them play about, but scowled lightly at their actions. Little did the two siblings below know, they were not being overly intelligent.

Plop, plop, plop!

“Hah hah hah! Did you see that?” Tiny splashes leapt from the running water’s body and onto a short figure.

“Hehe, yep!” Little pawprints fit themselves into the mud beneath two feet as they ran to the river’s edge, staring out across its wide area. The water was running speedily, eddying around the many rocks planted in its path. It was clear and fresh, just like a normal river’s contents. Over the other side was the second half of the forest, which the small being looking across it believed to be separate land. She knew exactly what was in its area. “...I hope Mummy and Daddy are going to be okay.”

A brown and orange paw tipped the last of what it was holding into the stream, watching as it was washed away and sunk. “Of course they will!” came a reply. “They were not ready for it last night, that’s all.”

“We’re very lucky nothing happened...” the one looking across the river mentioned, her voice almost forlorn.
“Yeah, I know. Now, come on! Don’t you want to join me?”

“...Okay,” she finally decided, a short pause prior to her answer. She turned to her right to face her brother, then right again to pace forward and scoop up smelly brownness. Her large head nearly clonked the tree in front of her, her big eyes only looking at the substance she was acquiring. Her light tan front, which had been sprayed with dirt, trailed underneath her until stopping at the top of her tail. At its tip burned a single red flame which illuminated its surroundings with a soft glowing. She had two stumpy legs ending with three claws on each which were also soaked with mud. Her brother looked the same as her, except he had a brown freckle above his right eye.

Thumping in the moist dirt with each step, the charmander scuttled to be beside her brother. She emptied her pawful of faeces into two other orange and brown paws, which then proceeded to drop them into the gushing, widespread tributary. Giggles erupted from the male fire type’s mouth, and his sister smiled meekly. She truthfully didn’t see the hilarity in what he was going, but thought of it rather to be somewhat childish. However, since he was, in fact, an infant (as was she), she didn’t mind.

After he collected more pokémon waste from the ground, the charmander rushed back to the water to pour it in. However, before arriving, a significantly big splash washed onto him, resulting in a scream of alarm.
“Fickre!” his sister exclaimed, her eyes holding concern as she scurried across the soil. The lizard-like pokémon she came to be standing before shivered, lashing his neck around to check on his tail’s fire. Seeing it still alight, he turned to his sister.

“The river splashed me!” he complained with a grumpy tone. He next threw a glare at the water, which seemed to hiss and spit back, and drove the pawful of what shouldn’t be touched into it. He stormed over to the disappearing pile of excrement by the oak tree’s front and belt down to collect it. With his small, four-fingered paws, he rolled a clump into a sphere, and next chucked it about ten charmander-sized paces away, hearing a splosh and watching mouthfuls of water rise and fall again.

The trees around shuddered. The shrubs nearby vibrated, rustling meeting the two charmander’s ears. Their attention was drawn as the bushes to the left of the oak tree revealed another creature.

“Finally!” A voice made the two lone pokémon jump with surprise. “I finally found you two!”

Out of the bracken waddled two turquoise legs ending with three-toed feet. There were two large black and red eyes planted on its round head, and there appeared to be a shell around its body. The back of the shell was dull brown patterned with pentagons, which could be seen as the pokémon turned to the two, and the front was a faded yellow colour patterned differently. Two arms with small paws much like the charmander’s protruded from a space in the shell, and a thick and short curled tail which sprouted from the back flicked impatiently.

“What are you two doing?” he asked, looking to the female first. He had sniffed the air, his nose crinkling.

“Playing with poo!” she laughed, displaying her paws and flashing her brother a grin. Fickre grinned back, running with little legs past the water type who had just stepped on-scene. He decanted what he held into the clear liquid rushing past his feet down a level. It fell freely until it hit the surface, breaking it instantaneously and mixing with the mud at the bottom once sinking.

“Hey, Fickre!” the squirtle yelped, facing the orange pokémon. With hurried steps, the greeny-blue pokémon about twice the size of the two charmander zipped to Fickre’s side and wrapped a paw around his wrist so he couldn’t dispose of more of what he was holding. The smaller paw attempted freedom, but the different coloured one clenching it restricted its movements dramatically.

“H-hey!” he growled, baring his fangs as he frowned up towards the face of the captor of his paw. The squirtle, with ease, jerked the orange paw away from the river so the cold slop splattered against the already taupe ground.

“Don’t do that!” the squirtle scolded, not showing a particular rise of his tone. The charmander broke free, welcoming his left paw back into his right.

“Why not?” he questioned, looking pouty.

“Fickre, you can’t tell me you didn’t see the signs,” the water type remarked, looking sternly at the little one. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped to reconsider. He didn’t reply, but instead looked away. “Fickre.”

“...The river,” started the sister, attracting the squirtle’s attention, “spat water at him and soaked his scales, Palue...”

The squirtle flicked his head to Fickre and waited for him to confess. “...Hhh...” the charmander sighed, looking at the ground again and smearing his right, mud-and-manure-covered foot in more dirtiness.

“River and lake spirits don’t approve of land-dwelling pokémon’s body waste in their water,” Palue started, the male charmander shifting his gaze upwards. “Since we can do our business up here on the land, we don’t need to pollute the waters with it. Water-dwelling pokémon such as krabby and goldeen are welcome, since they can’t do it up here. But the river knows that we – the ones who are up here – can do it without having to wash it away. If you go against what they think, their spirits will become angry with you and punish you,” he explained, ushering Fickre away from the water’s muddy edge. “For your own sake, Fickre, don’t do it.” He turned to the other fire type. “Same goes for you, Lib.”

“Yes, Palue,” the female obeyed, her gaze finding itself fixed on a crunched leaf. The squirtle smiled at her however, drawing her eyes, and she couldn’t help but to smile back. It was more of a shy smile, her bottom lip pressing up against her top one.

“Yeah, but what about when land pokémon wash? Isn’t that the same?” Fickre retorted haughtily, a frown placing itself over his eyes.

Palue reflected his expression gently, but tried not to lower himself down to the fire-type’s level of immaturity. “No,” he began, “because the river knows that we can’t wash without it.”

“But I don’t get it how the river knows. It doesn’t have a brain!” Fickre flailed his arms about to emphasise his point.

“But it has a spirit. Everything does—every natural thing.”

“Does that mean...that the poo we’re throwing has a...spirit?” Libbi asked bashfully, not comprehending one-hundred per cent.

The squirtle, patiently, lowered his voice so as not to lose his patience, and replied: “No, Libbi. Things like the trees and the rivers, the lakes and the oceans. The rocks, plants—maybe even the earth itself... But not excrement. It’s something we produce, whereas we don’t produce trees or rivers. Not to begin with, anyway.”
“Oh...” she replied quietly, managing a small smile.

The river water made its way past them all, eager to make its way down its path in a noisy rush. Fickre still couldn’t get his paws around how the river could possibly have this ‘spirit’ of which his babysitter spoke, but surely it was a pile of rubbish. Just some tale that would assist him in getting his way of stopping the charmander from having his enjoyable fun. Adults always had to ruin fun!

“Let’s get you two cleaned up,” Palue advised, murmuring an apology to a nearby shrub and plucking off a leaf. He handed it to Fickre, telling him to wipe off the faeces, and next, he gave one to Libbi. The two did as instructed – Fickre rather reluctantly – and threw the leaf onto the ground at their feet.

“Wash the rest off now, please.”

The two dipped both of their paws into the stream’s water, getting down on their knees and bending over, and rubbed their paws together. Their tails hovered above the earth behind them, the flame at the tips aware of the flammable leaves lying about. Palue crouched between them, making sure they weren’t going to overbalance and fall in or be pulled in because of the current’s strength.

When they were done, the squirtle watching over them was satisfied. He turned to Fickre, who didn’t look too cheerful after him and his sister got to their feet. “I think we should go back to the nest,” he suggested. “If you like, we can go out to catch some dinner.”

The male charmander’s attention was reset, and he beamed almost immediately. “Yeah, yeah!” he cheered, “What are we gonna catch?”

The much older water type didn’t have to ponder long. “Your favourite! Dragonflies and crickets. It’s spring—the perfect time to catch them.”

“Ooh!” Libbi sunnily smiled, her eyes closed with glee. She clapped her paws together once, folding her pointed fingers over the sides of her paws. Her tail rocked, the fire on the end becoming brighter.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Fickre urged, grabbing a hold of Palue’s oppositely coloured wrist and attempting to yank him back towards the charmander’s temporary home.

“Haha, okay. N-not too fast!” The Wartortle pre-evolution laughed sheepishly. Libbi also giggled, following with quick steps.

***

Long, orange and peach-yellow tails were hung still with focus, raised above long strands of grass. Vivid glows blazed without hesitation to light up the surroundings, making targets clear. Patience was the key to hunting, and Fickre knew that...

The male charmander leapt with his teeth bared and paws ready. A zippy insect, unaware of the incoming predator, was seized in midair and brought to the ground with its captor. “YES!” thundered a victorious voice, throwing his sister off task and causing her cricket to bound away without a second thought.

“Hmh...” sulked Libbi, glaring at her reckless brother. “Fickre, you scared away my cricket!”

With a turn of his head and a shrug of the shoulders, Fickre clenched his catch proudly. He blew a small flame onto it without having to worry about the fire touching his own skin, killing it instantly and humanely. Almost unwilling to hand it over, the little charmander then stalked over to his babysitter, placing it on a large leaf in his paws which already held a number of dragonflies.

“Good work,” Palue complimented, and Fickre grinned back, then turned around in search of some crickets this time. The squirtle rotated his head in another figure’s body, sitting with two legs outstretched. “Oh, Libbi.” She turned. “Are you having trouble?” he asked, as if next going to offer a paw.

She slumped her head down, nearly turning away. “...Yes. I almost got one, but it jumped off.”

“Would you like me to help you?”

“...Yes...please.” She smiled slightly, her eyes suggesting against being happy, though. Palue, knowing better than to leave the plate of food on the ground in case Fickre sees, took the leaf with him to Libbi, placing it on the ground once arriving.

“First, you’ve got to listen out for them. It’s good that it’s dark now. They come out at this time and chirp.”

Libbi focused on listening for the high pitched, monotone ring of a cricket, hoping to find one soon. There were many around, but using her nose wasn’t an option. There was one to her far left, further away than Fickre, and then two to her right, between trees and bushes, probably buried within detached crimson leaves. “Hear them?”

“Y-yes,” stuttered Libbi. “Should...should I go after them?”

“Have a try,” Palue insisted kindly. He supervised her steady steps as she crept up to an almost-ticking sound, standing over it and bending down once she found its location. She took two steps back, then came down on her paws and knees. She brought her head lower until she was eying the spot she was sure was where the bug lay, staring. She waited. ...And waited.

“Can you see it?”

“...No...”

“Libbi!”

“AHH!” the female charmander squealed, her tail straightening out in alarm. She bounced into the air, only to land flat on her front, thudding the ground and ceasing the cricket’s noise.

“Hahaha! You spoink!” teased Fickre, pointing at his twin sister and cackling.

“Fick-re!” she complained after pulling herself from the dirt, still on her paws and knees while peering over her shoulder at her naughty brother. He kept laughing, but eventually piped down and admitted that he didn’t mean to frighten her. She forgave him briefly, and the male offered to help. Libbi figured it was more for his purpose than to be kind or helpful, but she accepted it and he told her to claw at the ground where the insect was heard. So, doing as instructed, Libbi used her paw to excavate the confined area, the damp soil coating her orange claw-like fingers.

‘It may not seem like it,’ thought Palue with a few nods, replacing the large leaf in his paws, ‘but Fickre is very loving of his sister... I can sense their bond strongly.’

***

Brown feathers were stuck fast to the body of a hoothoot, its large, red eyes with black pupils staring down upon others moving down below. Its single foot was wrapped around the branch below it, protruding after a belly of tan. The Normal and Flying-type was housed by a great old tree’s limbs which creaked ever so slightly as they whispered goodnight to the rest of the forest.

The three pokémon made a short trip back to Palue’s den, which was a small burrow concealed in the ground next to a lake joining to the river, where it was somehow warm. Fickre had questioned Palue about why he didn’t live in the ocean or at least near it, but Palue had replied with: “Out here in the forest is where I grew up. I was friends with your parents as a child, and since then I’ve lived by this lake...which I would prefer over the ocean. I know this forest well, and everything on land is familiar to me. Being in a world without trees or soil would...be inadequate. Even your parents should be living near somewhere hot like a volcano, but they too chose to stay out here.”

“Oh,” Fickre replied, seating himself on the burrow’s floor padded with dried grass.

“Why are you still squirtle?” Libbi asked next, butting in before her brother could.

The question just about caught Palue off guard, and he appeared to have to think before giving an answer. “Well...” He took a seat between the two, having previously been standing. “I...I think I just don’t fancy evolving. Being a squirtle is enough for me. I prefer to be small. If I was even a wartortle, I probably wouldn’t fit inside my own home. Being a blastoise is a rather frightening thought. I don’t need big cannons to help me survive. And although I can defend myself, I don’t battle often at all. Not unless I’m being attacked.” He stopped to see the children’s faces, then chuckling to carry on, “Anyway. How about eating now?”

“Yes! I want to!” Fickre urged, not waiting for the squirtle to move and instead fetched the leaf embracing their dinner himself. He dragged it in, sneaking a dragonfly without being caught red-pawed. Palue ate plant leaves and some bugs himself—but mainly berry leaves.

Once the charmander had eaten, they slouched themselves against the small burrow’s sides. “Palue, do we get aftermeal?” one of the twins asked, cocking his head. Palue reached past Libbi—further into the burrow right before it came to a rounded end, and revealed a number of different coloured and sized berries. Fickre dug in—Libbi more taking one delicately to paw and nibbling it until it disappeared. Palue sat back and observed, satisfied enough with his leaves and weeds. Not after long, the water type rocked to his feet and stepped outside. The darkness enveloped him, and his eyes delayed before adjusting to the absence of light. He swiped his tail along the dust, brushing it away from his burrow’s entrance. Several leaves were swept away with the clumps of mud, and they twirled their ways to the ground.

He waddled back inside, finding that the infants had consumed all but three berries. However, there were only six to begin with. “Full?”

A curt burp escaped Fickre’s large mouth, and he made no effort to excuse himself. He was slumped against the den’s curved dirt wall, his belly round and full, with a paw resting on top. His legs ending with feet that had rounded tan patches underneath were stretched out carelessly. Libbi was curled up against the back wall, her legs bent in front of her and her paws around them. Her tail was curled around so it was lying to her right, enlightening the narrow cave-like home, along with Fickre’s end flame.

“Yeah-p,” Fickre replied, yawning and making eye contact. Palue gave a cursory nod and suggested that the two settle down for sleep. Fickre would have objected if he hadn’t been so sleepy from a long day and a filling dinner, and gathered some hay from near his leg. He made a mound about the size of himself when curled up, and stumbled onto it. He brought his legs close and lay his head down, wrapping his tail around his legs and up near his face. His arms faced inward near his chest, almost as if he was crossing them. Libbi did a somewhat similar thing, constructing her bed by her brother’s. The babysitting squirtle smiled, knowing he would simply be withdrawing himself into his brown and yellow shell. Before he considered it, however, a call of his name met his petite ears.

“Palue?” It was Libbi. She lay next to Fickre in the same comfortable sleeping position, but she wore a hopeful-kind of expression. Her and her brother’s heads were raised, staring at the squirtle waiting for further speech.
“Can you tell us a pre-sleep tale?” Fickre finished, not waiting for his sister to complete her request. Palue blinked.

“...Please?” added Libbi. “Mummy and daddy...usually do, so I just thought...”

“Uhh,” the squirtle began, thinking for a moment. “Gee, I haven’t told one of these in seasons...” He looked back at the two, shrugging. “Alright.”

“Yay!” cheered the fire-types, and their tails began to wag as they made their ways behind the two. Palue strode closer, sitting down and crossing – as best he could – his stubby legs. He placed his paws onto them, inhaling deeply before exhaling.

“One day, there was a very small starly,” he said, one of the charmander moving his arms in front of him to support himself and placing his paws under his head. The other crossed her arms and used them, set under her chest, to prop her front up. “Now, this starly was part of a large flock. All of his friends were the same size as him, and for the winter one season, they, like always, left their nests to migrate north. But this one little starly was too lazy to get up the morning they left, and instead slept. He slept until the next day, and woke up when everyone was gone. But by this time, their nests were all covered with snow. Th—”

“That wouldn’t happen!” Fickre interrupted, causing Palue to stop.

“What?”

“That wouldn’t happen,” he protested again. “The snow wouldn’t move in that fast. If it did, they would’ve left earlier.”

“Fickre, please don’t interrupt,” Palue warned softly.

“But it wouldn’t happen!” he shrugged, clearly assuming himself to be innocently correcting the squirtle.

“It’s just a story. It doesn’t mean it’s real,” Palue stated, not waiting to move on. “Anyway, the starly then said to himself, ‘Oh no! Maybe I should’ve gone. I’d better get going now.’

“He travelled for only hours before his wings became frozen with the cold and his legs grew stiff. The icy wind stung his eyes, and he could feel his beak halves freezing together. And when he couldn’t take it any longer, he dropped down while he happened to be flying over a human farm.

“The starly flopped onto the ground, landing right behind a plump miltank. She seemed immune to the cold, and she stood there chewing dew-covered grass.

“Suddenly, a worm-like tail lifted above the bird pokémon’s head, and a steaming pile of poo dropped onto him!”

“Hahaha!” the twins giggled, listening with interest to the story.

“Heh, and then the miltank trotted off as the starly began to yell because of how annoyed he was. First, being separated from his flock and freezing, and then having poo laid on him?! But, wait... ‘I...I’m warm,’ he said, as if discovering something marvellous. But, in fact, it was marvellous! His limbs began to defrost, and he felt warm and saved.

“He was singing with joy, shaking the poop off his wings. He knew his flock wasn’t far away from where he was, because they usually stopped at a particular place to rest when they migrated.

“However, because he was so loud, he attracted a fluffy, blue Glameow who happened to live on the farm. She snuck up on him, her large, coiled tail floating above the ground, careful not to touch it, and snatched the starly. The starly was so startled that he fainted in her paws, and she lay him on the ground, scraped all of the poo off, and gobbled him up!” Palue stopped there, witnessing his friends’ offspring widen their eyes. They were silent, and the only things of theirs moving were their tail flames. The fire’s light bounced off the low-set ceiling, casting wild shadows about. “Uhh...” Palue waited. He eyed them for longer, but the duo didn’t look about to move. It wasn’t until he waved his paw that they blinked, but they kept staring. “Well...there’s a...” Still no movement. “There’s a moral...to this, to this story. It’s, uh...it’s that: when you’re happy...keep your big beak shut!” he joked, and to his surprise and relief, both charmander laughed, loosening up again. Palue smiled, breathing out. “Alright, alright, there’s a real moral,” he admitted, brushing dust off the left of his shell. “The pokémon who poops on you isn’t always your enemy, and the one who cleans it off for you isn’t always your friend.”

***

After the story-lesson, the three pokémon had quietened down in order to follow up with a good night’s sleep. Libbi was curled up how she first intended to, and Palue was right at the back, none of his turquoise skin present—only his shell. Fickre would have been snoring on his back with his limbs laid out in different directions if he had been sleeping properly, but the juvenile charmander had purposely not fallen asleep for long.

He shuffled as he stepped onto his feet, careful not to wake Palue. He kept his eye on the squirtle for a few heartbeats until turning, a voice making him jump.

“Fickre?” Libbi looked up, her eyes squinting at her brother.

“Go back to sleep, Lib,” he advised. But the female fire-type wasn’t keen on obeying this time. She stretched her arms out, heaving herself up.

“Where are you going?” she wondered, rubbing one of her large eyes with the back of her wrist.

“Well,” Fickre whispered, too young to think of lying in order to mask the truth, “I want to play at the river again. Not go to sleep.”

“But you can’t!” she frowned, speaking loudly. Fickre glared at her, and she froze, making sure Palue hadn’t woken. She turned back to him. “Palue said not to.”

“Yeah, but do you really believe what he said?” Fickre scowled, eying her with abhorrence.

“Well...no...” she lied—only to agree with her brother. Her eyes wandered, but Fickre couldn’t tell of her dishonesty.

“Exactly. You can come if you want,” he added, rushing outside to meet the dark night. Libbi gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she didn’t have to make this decision. ‘He’s doing the wrong thing...’

Fickre sauntered off, and Libbi told herself that the reason she was following was solely to help him if something attacked or if he was hurt somehow. So, praying he wasn’t so mischievous for her sake, Libbi tailed her brother through the forest—much to the male’s ignorance. All along the way, Fickre’s sister was frantically flicking her head in all sorts of directions, hearing the cooing of hoothoot and the rustling of the nocturnal creatures. She was shaking with fear and clenching her teeth.

Fickre was prancing naively through grass and between bushes, and every time he heard a noise, he simply ignored it or pronounced it the wind.

He reached the river within a short while, and when he did, he widely grinned. On his way to the water’s edge, he gathered a pawful of more dung, then catapulted it into the hurried liquid. It splashed onto the entertained charmander, making him shake afterwards. Repeating the process again, Fickre did as he was told not to.

In response, the river gurgled. The wind stirred, threatening him. Trees nearby who were only seconds ago still had woken and were rustling. Fickre’s grin vanished, and in its place was worry. He looked about, searching for something to pin the blame of the commotion on. “Just the wind,” he told himself aloud. “J-just...the wind...” he repeated to reassure himself.

Libbi cowered behind plants and shrubs, whimpering inaudibly to herself. She was crouched, managing to catch a glimpse of her brother in the scarce but beautiful moonlight. “It’s just the wind...”

Fickre breathed a sigh of relief as the wind ceased its noisy course, and the fire-type could focus back on his task. This time, thinking of it to be humorous, Fickre lifted up a stone and coated it with more disgusting manure, snickering before doing anything else with it. However, before the chance arrived, wind howled through Fickre’s hidden ears, hissing at him.

‘River and lake spirits don’t approve of land-dwelling pokémon’s body waste in their water,’ echoed Palue’s words. Fickre froze, standing on the spot. ‘If you go against what they think, their spirits will become angry with you and punish you.’ Besides being completely confused, the little charmander was frightened! Why was he hearing these words? ‘For your own sake, Fickre, don’t do it.’

A thump sounded as Fickre dropped the rock in his paws after not having to contemplate his actions any further. He was done with this! He’d learnt his lesson!

The rock descended faster than Fickre realised, striking an orange foot. He wailed with agony, a bolt of pain surging through his body for a split second. Venturing too close to the river’s edge, he took no notice of the slippery mud only half a pace from his body behind him. However, he held himself still as he brought his foot into his paws, checking to make sure no damage had been dealt.

When he was satisfied, he went to put his foot down again, but a splash of the river’s water washed onto his leg, causing him to squeal and jump, losing his balance but regaining his footing on the mud—or so he thought.

Libbi watched with horror as her brother glided on the mud before falling back-first into the open stream. She then yowled, darting out from her hiding place. She beat herself mentally for not paying closer attention, and sprinted to the riverbank. Making sure she didn’t slip in herself, the desperate charmander screamed for her brother as he was washed ruthlessly by the river downstream. He hollered back, being plunged underwater by the fast and spiteful current after.

“FICKRE!” yelled Libbi, tears welling rapidly in her eyes. She attempted to give chase, not caring at all about the danger she was putting herself in, and ran alongside the river. The river itself seemed to laugh mockingly at her, easily outrunning her as it spat Fickre to its surface again, the oxygen-deprived pokémon gasping in an effort just to breathe. Libbi was glad to find that his flame was still burning, although weakly.

She had been educated about how their flames could keep alight even under water, which was why young charmander were required to take extra care when battling water types. As they grew older, their tail flames would become harder to extinguish—which was good. Although charmander, charmeleon and charizard didn’t die instantly if their tails were put out, their lives did depend on the flames staying ablaze.

Fickre spluttered, his own tears indistinguishable because of the fresh water as he hopelessly fluttered his arms about. “LIBB—” And the charmander was under once again after slamming into a rock and losing consciousness. Fickre’s sister witnessed her brother’s tumbling body in the water’s careless grip, parts of it occasionally erecting from the water.

“FICKRE, NO!” she cried once again, losing sight of her captured brother. The night grew more sinister and vindictive, provoking Libbi, prodding at her and nagging her to make another reaction. But she was so confused! This had all happened too fast. She stood panting and whining, tears dripping into her mouth as she kept it open. She clenched her teeth, tightly compressing her eyelids to the point where her jaw hurt and her eyelids were bursting open with the constant rush of tears. She blubbered loudly, drawing a breath one could tell was made directly after crying. She was still crying, however. Crying hysterically, the grief overpowering her.

Her head made movements to different directions. “Help,” she whinged, still sobbing. “HELP!” she screeched extremely loud, curling her fists.

“SOMEBODY, HELP ME!”