Suicune's Short Stories & Poetry

**Suicune's Fire** · 02-01-2014, 01:13 PM

>> AUTHOR'S ARCHIVE <<

One-shots:

River's Vengeance
Word Count: 7,125
(Completed in June, 2009)

Beyond the Bush
Word Count: 6,998
(Completed in August, 2009)

What We Hope [2014 WAR Entry]
Word Count: 3,044
(Started and completed on the 11th of July, 2014)

.::Poetry::.

Okay, pretty much all my poems are emo so I'm only gonna post two. XDD

Memories - 2009

Spoiler:

Fading: - 2012/2014

Spoiler:

Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment. :]

**Suicune's Fire** · 02-01-2014, 01:19 PM

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!”

**Suicune's Fire** · 02-01-2014, 01:28 PM

Beyond the Bush

Also a very old image. xD

“Zigzagoon, tackle it again!”

A cream and brown blur reeled back before charging into an upside-down brown face. Both pokémon tumbled, falling over each other before coming to a stop in a mess. “Get outta there!” yelled an impatient voice, eying his normal type angrily. The pokémon zigzagged her way from under her opponent, swinging to face him once she halted. Spiked fur swayed as she shook, starting from her pointy russet head to her wheat mane, followed by layers of brown and then cream fur again. A russet and wheat tail protruding from her rear – which was also shaped in a continuous pointed fashion – tapped the dehydrated earth. The zigzagoon eagerly awaited another instruction.

“Rolling kick!” commanded a second voice, the human it was coming from directing an index finger towards his pokémon.

“Dodge it.”

With extended effort, the small normal type pounced to the left a heartbeat too late, the rapid feet smacking into the side of her face a repeated number of times. Pain burst into her head, her brown paws scraping the nearly-dried mud as they sustained the pressure. She was greatly relieved when the attack finally ceased, but the zigzagoon was left nearly ridden of her fighting health.

A sour expression overcame her trainer, and she knew she was completely letting him down. However, Fighting types were her only real weakness, and her opponent happened to be exactly that. He balanced – somehow – on his horn-like tipped brown head which, when upright, would come down almost like human hair beside his face. Black eyes and a usually determined face were worn, matching his almost fearsome, rounded, blue feet embedded with three sharp claws. Two white bands on each copper leg sat above the feet, and his torso was mostly azure with the exception of a filled in V-shaped brown patch. Two copper arms with white bands of their own ended with spherical hands, and his tail was much like his feet—but with one claw and the blueness was much more circular.

“Headbutt!” exclaimed the agitated trainer, a threatening glare piercing his pokémon’s caramel eyes surrounded by the black raccoon-like bar on her face. Her russet, spiked ears pressed into her fur, soft whimpering uttered as she swung around.

Gaining a run-up, the zigzagoon once again dashed with her head down in the hitmontop’s direction, colliding with him head-on. The force’s consequence sent the stronger fighting type pummelling to the ground, but a displeased grunt stood his opponent’s fur on end. The hitmontop quickly got to his feet, but the zigzagoon’s trainer was faster. “Headbutt again!”

The tiny-raccoon pokémon ran at her target, feeling her paws thud against the ground with each step. Her pants indicated her tiredness, and her fixed pupils suggested that her concentration was her prime focus.
“Counter.”

The Handstand pokémon suddenly became coated with a glittering red veil, taking the zigzagoon by total surprise. Her eyes snapped open wider. Her paws flung her forward too late, her jagged ears swaying as the wind whirled by. ‘Ah—!’

Just as expected by the hitmontop and his trainer, the smaller pokémon slammed into her adversary, her attack immediately being broken off as she was thrust backwards at double her headbutt’s power, fur grazing the stony ground as she slid. Coming to a halt and feeling her pelt still was the last thing the zigzagoon remembered before she blacked out...

***

Popping of a poké ball sounded, scarlet energy spilling out onto a rough surface to take the shape of an almost-spiny creature. The zigzagoon didn’t have to scan the area for long to know she was in a clearing consisting of dusty, clay-like rocks and earth. Clumps of grass here and there were withered, dry and dying from lack of water. The Sun had gone down, however, and it was quite dim.

The little pokémon yawned, stretching outwards, her rump high as her shoulders levelled out and her forelegs reached forwards. Her eyelids were squeezed shut, and her mouth became a large hole as she yawned.
Without warning, a solid object rammed into her rear, sending her rolling over herself and ending on her back. Her thoughts whizzed as it only then came to her that she was with her trainer... The zigzagoon whined as she laid eyes on a gruff face towering over her. The hard something was, in fact, his boot, which next came down on the pokémon’s chest. She held her breath as her human’s nose vibrated and his eyes flamed with hate.

“You WORTHLESS RUNT,” he spat, applying pressure to his leg. The zigzagoon cringed, a shiver rippling through her body. Beautifly swarmed in her stomach as she only imagined her punishment. “I caught you for your speed. You’re not fast—you’re pathetic!” He administered more force through his leg. “All of my pokémon are powerful,” he sneered. “...All but you.”

He removed his great foot from the linoone pre-evolution’s torso, and great relief flooded back into the pokémon’s self before she got on all fours again. However, the human then proceeded to snatch a lump of clay. He stood not far as he thrust it in the zigzagoon’s direction, and it split into a million pieces once striking her head. She yipped, cowering behind her paws as she shrunk, feeling incredibly inferior.

Next, a rather pale stick appeared in her trainer’s grip. ‘Why didn’t I win?! I should have pressed on...’ her thoughts bleated, tugging at her hidden tears.

He approached her with stomps, beginning to beat her in various places. She yowled, unable to defend herself. Memories of other trainers’ pokémon telling her how irritating it was to be in a poké ball sparked in her mind, but a poké ball would be luxury for her compared to what she had to endure half the time.

The beating stopped, and the man in his early twenties allowed the stick to bonk on her skull shortly before unravelling a chain he withdrew from the backpack he carried. He made no effort to hurry as he neared his pokémon again. He knelt down, wrapped the chain around her neck and stressed it. Any other pokémon would have gasped for breath by that stage, but truthfully—this zigzagoon was used to it. Although, she pretended to be unfamiliar with the chain’s tightness only to please her trainer so he wouldn’t pull it more in order to hurt her further, and with a smug grin, the human stepped back. He fixed the other end to a thin tree trunk, wrapping it around several times and hooking it through stumpy branches until he was satisfied.

The Hoenn-native pokémon breathed a silent sigh as her trainer strode away. She almost felt safe, but the relief was broken as he returned in a flash, booting her side with reasonable strength one last time, knocking the wind from her chest.

***

She stayed there the whole night, her trainer out of sight—he’d probably booked into a trainer’s hotel. He had tied the chain so that the majority of it was attached to the tree, and there wasn’t enough of it to let her rest on the ground—therefore, the unfortunate zigzagoon was required to stand.

She had barely managed any sleep; whenever she nodded off while propped on her hind paws, she would be woken by strangulation of the chain. She knew that slicing it with her blunt claws was no use, and if a predator of any kind had smelled her from where they were, her feeble attempts to defend herself would prove futile. Luckily for her, a pokémon such as that had never come before when in her current state—and thankfully not this time, either.

“Rrrattata!” a call exclaimed, startling the zigzagoon out of her fur. She widened her eyes, using them to look about in search of the cry’s source. She spotted something many paces away. Around six or so violet and white heads attached to small bodies poked their ways out of dried bushes lining the pedestrian glade. They all had an elongated duo of front teeth protruding from a white muzzle that sported four noticeable whiskers. Their bodies were about twice the size of their heads, and their chest and belly fur was white. They had four small paws and violet tails that curled at their ends. Their small noses all twitched as they stared at the strange zigzagoon who was strung up against a lone tree. The same elemental typed pokémon stared back, her eyes miserable and frightened.

“What is she doing?” muttered one of the rattata, his tail ticking.

“Dunno,” another replied, making the zigzagoon feel somewhat uncomfortable.

“Do you think we should ask her?”

“Watch out! She might be rabid.”

The zigzagoon removed her gaze, facing the ground. ‘I can hear them,’ she thought without particular emotion.

“I think she’s sad...” muttered a female in the back row only audible for two of her friends to catch. She was somewhat young, and her pelt was lighter than everyone else’s.

“I would be if I was tied up,” a young male to her right said in response.

“What an odd thing for a trainer to do!” pointed out a member from the middle.

“How do you know she’s got a trainer?” asked another.

The female at the back answered, “I don’t think another pokémon would have done this...”

“Maybe we should go...before it comes back!” suggested another smaller one placed to the female’s left, his voice shaky and unconfident.

“Okay!” agreed one in the next row, and began to sprint back where they came from. One by one, the rattata made haste to disappear through the bracken behind them, but the last three to leave hesitated.

The smaller one began to make off, but stopped when he realised his friends weren’t following. “Come on!” he quickly insisted.

“Gigin...” whispered the male standing on his hind legs next to the female—who was the most reluctant to move. His expression was that of a forlorn one, but the female’s face was that mixed with indecision and worry.

With one last look, Gigin pulled herself away, scurrying with her male friend who tailed the other male.
The zigzagoon sighed through her black nose, wishing to set her tired head on her paws and give her overworked leg muscles a break. However, only her trainer was capable of releasing her from her poor position.

And that wasn’t going to happen.

***

Tinkering rode the wind’s humming current, flowing through two russet ears. The rising and falling of a tree-supported pokémon’s belly was interrupted by back paws slipping as they became almost submissive as a result of exhaustion. A prickled tail was the key to the normal type’s steadiness as it assisted the paws with balance.

The Moon was still holding its position as the diurnal world slept, illuminating paths and shedding not as much light as the great Sun itself. Its time was nearing its end, however, and that was when it would descend through the darkened sky and be replaced by its twin daytime sphere.

“Go!”

More rustling quickly came and went as three rodent-like creatures raced into the clearing, their low bodies skimming the thin and uncommon strands of dull grass. They surrounded the zigzagoon’s front, juicy berries lodged in their mouths. Their cheeks bulged, and they would have spilled if it hadn’t been for the creatures’ buck teeth.

One of them – the one in the middle – padded forward. “Zigzagoon, wake up, please,” she whispered once spitting the food onto the dusty dirt. In response, the normal type stirred, her eyelids shuddering. Gigin waited, but the pokémon before her refused to wake up. “...We have food for you.”

The tiny-raccoon pokémon heaved her eyelids open, her pupils meeting with the rattata looking curious and worried in front of her. “F...food?”

“We all brought you some fruit,” a male to her left said, approaching her and dropping the berries beforehand. “Oran, sitrus and pecha berries. And apples.”

The zigzagoon lunged forward, momentarily forgetting she was tied up by metal links. The chain choked her, and she spluttered once regaining her footing. On the contrary to her assumptions, two of the purple rat-like pokémon helped her up, their worried expressions showing compassion. The other one looked somewhat shy and unsure, which was probably why he didn’t intervene.

“Th-thank you...”

“It’s our pleasure,” the female said soothingly, planting her teeth into a sitrus berry. Its yellow colour barely showed up under the moonlight and the miniscule orange freckles it was covered with complimented its plump frame. One of the other berries present – the oran berry – was spherical and deep blue. It had a silver cap-like button on its top, and was also covered in small blotches. The apples were bright red and looked rich, and the pecha berries were soft brown with a top spurting leaves.

She proceeded to pass the food to the starving zigzagoon, and she snatched it up without a word, hungrily snuffling it up while holding it in her front paws. Not many zigzagoon did this, but she really had no other choice as to how she was to eat it. Juice soaked her furry front paws, making them sticky. A soft tongue strived to get every last molecule of fluid off—she was probably used to consuming every last bit of her food.

To the duel-coloured pokémon’s surprise, an apple was passed to her next, and she, after being told she was allowed, scoffed it down slightly slower than the berry. The two male rattata joined the female, sitting either side of her as they watched the strange normal type eat.

She was half-way through her fruit piece when the female spoke. By the zigzagoon’s reaction, she was probably assuming the rattata was going to want to take the food from her. The even sadder thing was—she looked willing to. “Uh...” started the female, her voice not of a harsh tone. “My...my name is Gigin.” She eyed the zigzagoon—who didn’t remove her own gaze as she took bite after bite, rarely bothering to chew. “T-this is...Hyso and Jep,” she said, indicating to Hyso as the male to her own right but the zigzagoon’s left. He nodded, smiling a little. Jep also nodded, but hesitated. His first impression set him in the ‘timid’ category.

Crunch.

She kept munching, and not long after, her apple had vanished and she was licking the residue. Her eyes shifted between the three. “...Why are you helping me?”

Gigin drew a silent sharp breath when the zigzagoon opened her mouth, but was relieved. ‘She can talk properly...’

“You’re tied up. Don’t you want to escape?” the bigger male asked.

“A human did this to you...?” Gigin questioned, tilting her head.

“...My master,” the zigzagoon answered, no emotion being conveyed in her tone. The three gasped.

“H-h-human?!” Jep stuttered, hiding behind his tan paws.

“We want to get you out!” Gigin explained, beginning to make her way closer to the tree.

“No,” the tiny-raccoon pokémon sternly said. The three paused and stared. “I...must obey my master.”

Hyso stepped in. “No pokémon should have to obey a master who ties you up with his equipment!” he scoffed.

“Staying with your master could mean misfortune for you,” Gigin whined, her worry rising.

“...Master will catch you or kill you if you try to help me...”

The rattata fell silent, Gigin deciding to walk back a few paces to become face-to-face with the victim. “Please...what is your name?”

The zigzagoon’s eyes swept the ground, her mind searching for an answer. The two males stared in horror as they momentarily thought she had no name. How could a pokémon have no name?

Her head rose. “Master didn’t give me one,” she replied. Suddenly, Jep gave a loud, overdramatic sigh-gasp and collapsed onto Hyso—who stood still.

“No...no name?!” Gigin breathed... Having no name in the pokémon world was like having no soul...

“Master just refers to me as ‘Zigzagoon’.” Clearly, Gigin thought, that couldn’t have been her birth name. It was a name humans assigned them with—a pokémon’s species name, that was.

“What was the name...your mother gave you?”

A gasp widened the zigzagoon’s eyes, her pupils shrinking as immediate memories flooded back and a tingle jolted through her limbs. “Mother...” she spoke aloud, tears dripping from her more-rounded-than-usual eyes. “Yes, Mother did give me a name...” Her eyes once again darted about, her breathing becoming heavier. Gigin stepped back a few paces, almost frightened. She huddled close to Hyso. “...Mynk.”

Gigin lifted her eyelids. “...Mynk?” The zigzagoon nodded wildly as if she had just uncovered something brilliant—and she had!

“My name...is Mynk!”

Jep also regained consciousness. “Funny how you wake up straight after she remembers her name,” Hyso mumbled. Jep shook his head, focusing on Mynk’s first broad smile after getting to his paws. Something told him that her smile wasn’t common.

Gigin’s own smile grew, it being a quiet, ‘I’m happy for you’ smile. “Good work,” she praised, oblivious to the frozen reaction of Mynk’s. The zigzagoon stood with an unfamiliar tinge to her expression. “Do you want the rest of the berries? We brought two each.” She stepped forward to the four-berried pile, once again sliding her teeth into one and craning her neck so Mynk’s front paws could lift it to her mouth. She spent not long chomping it, and presented the watchers with happy faces while doing so.

Shuffling alerted all four normal types, jumping them out of their pelts. It was coming from Mynk’s left—everyone else’s right. ‘We came from the opposite direction,’ Gigin thought, her heart racing. Pokémon around these parts aside from her kind seldom revealed themselves—if there were any other types.

“Runt!” called a gravelly, unfriendly voice. A sharp pain suddenly jabbed Mynk in her gut, ripping her innards and sending the shooting feeling to her head. She winced, gritting her teeth and binding her eyes shut until she spoke.

“Go!” she shouted to her aides. “Please, go before he finds you too!” Mynk’s eyes locked with those of Gigin’s, and the female rattata breathed deeply before tearing herself away and ushering her comrades out of the nearly grassless glade after quickly collecting the remaining berries. All three were reluctant, but Jep led the way as they disappeared into the brush.

“Runt, where did I leave you?” Crunching of leaves echoed before a tall figure appeared, the stubble on his ugly face glinting as silver light cast itself on the human’s head. “There you are,” he sneered, trudging across the gritty dirt with heavy-looking boots that packed the earth with each step. Mynk was situated against the tree where she was last left, the chain looping her neck still threatening to strangle her if she attempted to lie. “Ready to train?” he questioned. Mynk merely eyed him, her breathing heavy. The trainer rounded the tree, unwrapping the chain from the trunk’s limbs. “Answer me!” he snapped, but Mynk continued her stare at the ground. The bitter hatred for her master got the better of her as she refused to answer, and again came the slight pain of a slap. The man gripped the zigzagoon’s chin, roughly pulling it in his direction. He sneered, his lip being tugged on by the above muscles. “Are you ready to train?!” he repeated, his eyes stabbing his pokémon’s. She finally nodded, her nose buzzing with fear and hate. “Good,” he said, shoving the normal type’s muzzle away. He snatched the end of the chain, yanking it ruthlessly as Mynk jerked and trailed behind.

***

The Sun had eventually awoken, emerging from its nest and exposing itself upon the land. Mynk had been training virtually all morning, and she had barely gotten any sleep the previous night whatsoever. The only food she had consumed recently were three serves of fruit—all of which had been donated to her by a trio of wild rattata. The only reason Mynk had been able to come up with as to why the pokémon helped her was that they secretly wished to mock her suffering, and therefore poisoned the berries which she would later feel the effects of. What didn’t occur to the zigzagoon was that they could have been sympathetic pokémon who actually did want to help her escape. Nevertheless, her mind was completely side-tracked as she stood her ground.

A trainer from around the area had lost her pokémon – she went for a walk, probably, and got lost – and Mynk’s trainer had found her. She was a faded brown pokémon with large, prickly, silver pincers atop her head. Her mouth was sideways, and had horizontal teeth that frankly intimidated the zigzagoon. She had stumpy but strong legs with two claws on each, and thin arms ending with little, clawed hands. Ironically this pokémon was referred to as a ‘pinsir’.

Mynk had been battling her for a few minutes so far, and knew that her trainer’s plan was to defeat her to get his pokémon some experience, then return her to her trainer and claim a prize of some sort. It worked out perfectly for him, but Mynk thought it was wrong—however convenient it may have been. The bug type was even disinclined to battle in the first place, and Mynk regretted starting the fight. ‘It’s not my fault,’ she kept telling herself. ‘And she’s going to be returned to her trainer...’ When Mynk thought those exact words, she meant it. The pinsir WOULD be returned, and the zigzagoon would make sure of it.

“What the hell kind of battling is that?!” barked the gruff master. He slammed down his foot, and Mynk flinched a few paces in front. “Put more effort in, or you won’t get a meal today!”

“Zagoon!” the trainer heard, and next commanded his pokémon to use a headbutt attack. The pokémon obeyed, charging toward the pinsir. In her defence, the stag beetle pokémon lowered her horns, but Mynk leapt over them, only to come at her from behind and send the bigger pokémon sprawling on her front.

“Hmph,” grunted Mynk’s master, impressed—but would never admit it to his pokémon. He shot an arm and pointed in their direction. “Headbutt again!”

As the pinsir glanced around her shoulder, a zigzagoon leapt. Momentarily after, her head collided with Mynk’s skull, resulting in a loss of her footing and a crash into the ground behind her.

“Finish it,” the trainer demanded with a somewhat evil tone and grin.

‘Her...’ Mynk corrected in her thoughts. C...corrected?

Mynk stopped in her tracks. She had just spoken back to her trainer in a way. She never did that! And for some reason, today she had more disdain on her mind than usual. Maybe...she was nearing evolution, and as a result was becoming more rebellious? She wasn’t sure, and directed herself back to the battle to avoid further punishment. She witnessed a furious pinsir pounding towards her, and rolled to the right before the pokémon landed an attack. However, all the opponent had to do was turn straight back around and drive her curled fist into the zigzagoon’s side.

Incredible force sent Mynk soaring to her right, coming to a final halt once skidding along the ground. The attack was to her type disadvantage, which gravely injured her. Her energy had almost diminished—but she wasn’t about to end it there. She knew her master would not tolerate a loss from her again, but ironically the recent opponents she’d been up against were part fighting type. She knew her master preferred it this way, however, and didn’t really have a choice or say in the matter.

“Get up!” instructed the man, swaying his hand in a particular motion. Before Mynk could shake off and lift herself up, the enraged pinsir took aim.

A deep scream filled the air as the zigzagoon spotted her opponent tailing her trainer, and stared on the spot. Secretly she hoped that the stag beetle pokémon caught him and tore him in two with her large pincers, but she knew her luck was not as abundant as she would have liked it to be.

“ZIGZAGOON!” shouted the man, attracting Mynk’s attention. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU STANDING THERE FOR?!” He paused to jump over a log in the grassless clearing, his predator merely ploughing through and crushing it. “GET YOUR USELESS **** OVER HERE AND HELP ME!!”

Mynk bolted in his direction, having to change course a few times because of the directions he chose. Her zigzag running patterns provided a good catching-up method, and reached the bug type in time to tackle her down heartbeats before she got her claws on Mynk’s trainer. Unwillingly, the zigzagoon brawled with the pinsir in the dust after the male trainer huffed and attempted to regain his status. Mynk soon sprang off, shooting kicked-up dirt in her foe’s eyes as she tried to approach her.

“Now, finish it like I told you with shock wave!”

Mynk was surprised to hear the attack so soon after her having learnt it, but then again—coming from her trainer, it was typical. Before they had come across the pinsir, Mynk’s trainer forced her to learn shock wave—a ‘TM’ that he had stolen earlier that morning. She hadn’t used it yet, but knew how, at least. She focused her energy into a mental confined space, chanting for motivation. To her expectancy, lemon electricity materialised in her mouth in the shape of an oran berry, and after what she thought was enough time spent on building it up, the energy was released, the sphere striking the ground with lightning bolts almost as if that was its way of travelling to its target. Since the pinsir was only a metre or two away, the shock wave reached her in no time, plunging itself into the defenceless pokémon and frying her body.

She lay inert on the ground, twitching as an after-effect of the electric attack. Mynk herself slumped onto her belly, her limbs relaxing as she remembered the pain she endured from the brick break attack earlier. With the memory also came the scene of the pinsir chasing the man, which made the zigzagoon chuckle.

“Finally,” came that same male’s voice as he appeared by his pokémon’s side. “You’re finally seeing battles my way.”

“W-what?!” Mynk responded worriedly. ‘I wasn’t laughing at a defeated pokémon!’ She got back on her feet, giving her trainer a cautious and a ‘you’re wrong’ look. He barely noticed as he called out one of his other pokémon to carry the pinsir with him back to the trainer hotel nearby where the girl had lost her. No doubt he would be rewarded somehow, either through money or just by upping his reputation.

“You’re not needed,” muttered the trainer, returning Mynk to her poké ball before she could do anything about it. But ultimately she’d prefer to be in there than with him...

***

The time came when Mynk was let out of her ball, and she hardly had to observe much before figuring that it was nighttime again. Out came the chain, which was wrapped once again around her neck and attached to the same tree. She was told by her poorly dressed master that since she defeated a few pokémon and had not one loss that day, she could at least be able to sit while sleeping, and she soon after discovered that if she placed herself close to the tree, she was able to only just lie. He left her a meagre handful of dead bugs probably belonging previously to another pokémon at the hotel. They were just out of Mynk’s reach on purpose, and her stomach reached out with all it had to try to get them. She knew her master frequently did this to test his pokémon’s abilities—or, at least, he did it to her.

Her master left with a strident cackle, kicking up dirt that sprayed the raccoon pokémon. She shook it off with ease as she watched her trainer exit the glade, turning her head sourly back to the measly pile of crickets and dragonflies.

After what felt like hours, the zigzagoon had finally stopped trying. She gave the mocking food a bitter huff, rotating around so her nose was touching the tree’s malnourished trunk. Her tail, without her noticing, brushed the bugs and was easily in reach of them.

***

Hours passed and Mynk was happy to have slept. Her stomach growled, however, like usual, and she drooled in her sleep as she dreamt of berries and fancy scraps of human food. The night was a chilly one, and she had to huddle against the tree in an attempt to keep warm. Her master would work on one of his pokémon at a time, train them and put them through harsh conditions and circumstances, pushing them hard and to win. When he completed their training, they would stay in their poké balls for several weeks—or even months if they weren’t needed. He would move onto another pokémon and place them in the previous pokémon’s position and do the same to them. Right now, that pokémon was unfortunately Mynk.

She moaned, tail and ears ticking as her eyes rolled leisurely open. She stretched out in front of her with both front limbs, and a wide mouth became apparent as she yawned.

“Go!” Pattering paws moved in, swarming Mynk. She was sitting up as if she was almost expecting them, and had been eying an oran berry which had been bowled from behind a bush—probably by mistake. “Hello again,” Hyso smiled, his apples lying down and coated with a thin layer of saliva before his paws. He nudged them with his nose to Mynk, and she happily gobbled them up despite the dirt they had gathered. Next, she ate Jep and Gigin’s apples, satisfied after.

Jep suddenly shrieked. “What, what?” Hyso prompted, his friend cautiously looking at the brown and cream normal type.

“S-scars! So many of them!” He caused both Hyso and Gigin to gaze back to Mynk, only then noticing a scar on her left cheek below her eye. Gigin gasped, spotting more on her paws. Hyso made his way to her zigzag body, running his eyes along her right side. There were so many old wounds...but numerous fresh ones only created days ago.

“What...what happened to you?” Hyso asked, his eyes locking with those of Mynk’s. She hung her head, speaking of how each time she lost a battle, her trainer would beat her. He sometimes even used weapons to punish her. But she then stated that it was okay, because she was now used to it.

“That doesn’t make it alright,” Gigin convinced. “That’s evil.”

Mynk’s face held no particular emotion, but her head was on a slight angle. Clearly this was all she knew. She probably assumed all pokémon under a trainer’s rule were treated like this. It was...natural...for her.

Changing the subject, her brow furrowed with concern. “...Thank you very much for the fruit... But I do not know how to repay you,” she said, not managing a smile with the comment. Hyso went back to Jep, taking a seat beside the timid rattata.

Gigin stepped forward, sitting only a muzzle-length away. “Mynk,” she started, and the zigzagoon almost forgot what it was like to be called by her birth name. “We want you to join our clan.”

Tingling raced down Mynk’s spine, and she was suddenly lost in thought as she absorbed the information. She was...being asked into a clan...? But why would they want her? Maybe it was all a con. Just a lie to mock her. Her frown reappeared. “Why?” she said solemnly.

Gigin blinked a few times in a row. “You don’t really want to be with your trainer – that human – do you?” questioned Hyso, loathing about his voice.

“H-humans are evil...” Jep mumbled, avoiding lengthy eye contact.

Mynk was secretly overjoyed, and would love to be part of a clan...but would they accept her? And what about her trainer? “...I thank you for the offer...” she began, and Gigin could tell what was to come next, “but I can’t... M-my master. He will track me down and kill me or capture me again...and you...if I abandon him.”

“Abandon?” Hyso scowled, wearing a face of scorn and disgust. “To abandon a pokémon or one’s trainer would be wrong.” He stopped to see Mynk reconsider. “You will be escaping.”

“Freedom is what you want...right?” confirmed Gigin. The zigzagoon’s face stayed neutral.

“...Yes.”

***

The work of the three rattata was helping, and Mynk was very thankful for their assistance. They gnawed at the chain, attempting to break the links while she aimed to find how it could be unhooked from the tree. Eventually Gigin had come up with a different solution. “It’s all wrong,” she had stated. Her eyes frantically darted. “We need to break the branches.”

That had worked, and the rattata’s strong teeth had all proven their worth as great tools. After only a number of minutes, they had chewed enough away to break the main branch it was tied to. It had come crashing down, and Mynk hoped with all of her damaged heart that none of the humans in the nearby hotel had heard. If they had...she’d be in big trouble.

They hauled the tree’s limb off the metal lead, and the zigzagoon was liberated. ‘I still need to disappear,’ she remembered, not quite feeling rid of her trainer just yet.

“Come on!” called Jep up ahead, ready to vanish through the plantation and keen to reunite with his own kind.

“Coming!” Gigin responded, scattering with Mynk across the dirt. A burst of adrenaline exploded somewhere inside the raccoon-like pokémon’s body...and it felt good!

‘He’s,’ she panted silently, ‘he’s gone! I...I’m free!’ “I’m free!” she yelled to the spirits of the forest, the trees welcoming her into their realm. Gigin giggled gleefully with her new friend as they ran side by side through that bush—the one she watched her free friends come from. By making it through that shrub...she was purely entering into a new—

Without warning, Mynk flew backwards with a cry of surprise and sudden discomfort as the chain choked her.

Old, miserable and recurring feelings erupted within, the mental and partly physical pain swelling and spreading like a virus inside. She thudded against the ground, barely having time to regain her senses as she was ripped upwards by a curled fist gripping her head fur as its owner stood on a long, clinkering chain-cable.

Gigin skidded to a stop, Hyso and Jep up in front mimicking her actions as they realised what happened.

“WHY, YOU—!!” thundered the demonic man. “YOU BLOODY UNGRATEFUL RUNT!” A bladed weapon revealed itself as the male trainer’s hand drew it from his belt, and it threatened her throat as it was pressed hard against her front.

“MYNK!!” screamed Gigin, bounding from her place back to the bush.

“Gigin, stop!” Hyso exclaimed, making an incredible leap backwards and onto his friend. They tumbled into the bush, only hairs away from being exposed. The rustling snatched Mynk’s attention as she hung from her head fur, but her master was too occupied to notice, and his loud shouts masked the rustling.

“I GIVE YOU FOOD, A ROUTINE AND LODGING!” he roared, for some reason livid. “And it’s not good enough for you!” He immediately dropped to the ground, taking the knife from her throat. As he did so, he kneeled on her with his right knee – the zigzagoon crying out in agony – and sliced the knife through her left ear’s base.

Mynk screamed, the shrill screech enough to be heard from the trainer’s resort. Blood poured from her wound, beginning to stream down her face as the pressure from her back wasn’t lightened. The pain was excruciating; she hadn’t ever experienced such a focused pain before. The ear-piercing wail continued as tears became mangled with blood and a crazed grin pasted itself on the trainer’s face—if he was able to be deemed one.

“GET OFF HER!” Gigin boomed, bursting through the bush and leaping at the human’s face. She landed her teeth on his right eye as his own pain-induced cry joined Mynk’s, and maroon liquid leaked out quickly as he thudded onto his back. “HOW DARE YOU TREAT HER LIKE THAT! YOU’RE HER MASTER!” the rattata screeched, tears pooling in her eyes. Of course, he couldn’t understand pokéspeech.

“ARGH!” the man cried. “Get off me!” The knife he dropped found its way back into his hand, and he swiped at her, slitting her chin. She yipped, bounding backward as he got up. Blood trickled down his front as he shrouded his wound with his left palm, the weapon wrapped in the other.

Mynk shakily regained her footing, her breathing jagged and uneven as her own tears and blood dripped off her coat.

“Get away from her!” bellowed another voice, and a second rattata emerged from the forest. The forest cheered him on as the trees’ leaves swished wildly about, providing him with suitable confidence. He sped past Gigin and into the human’s leg, gashing him with his teeth and tearing his clothing. A second cry spilled from the man’s mouth, and next he attempted to drive the knife into Hyso heartbeats too late as the rattata rushed between his legs. So, instead, the hysterical foe landed the knife in the wound caused by the escaped normal type, the blade showing from the other side of his leg. He howled, yanking it from his muscle as deep sangria body fluid spewed out into thick puddles.

With Mynk’s master in the midst of occupation, Gigin tended to her friend’s frail body. She appeared to be okay...apart from the loss of an ear and a crushed spine. “Are you...?” Gigin wanted to finish her sentence, but it seemed stupid to ask if she was alright at such a time.

Mynk was nearing her time to reply, but her face transformed rapidly. “WATCH OUT!”

But it was too late. The man had snatched her up by the tail and held the knife to her throat as he pressed her body against his to prevent movement. He stared around, his eye torn and festering. He chose to keep it open for reasons nobody watching would understand, but that wasn’t what turned their stomachs.

Hyso and Mynk were frozen in their tracks as the latter’s master backed up against the bush, facing the two pokémon. He had a psychotic facial expression, his toothy smile reaching down their throats to pull on their innards. “That’s right,” he chuckled, “by having your little friend here,” he spat at the word ‘friend’, “I control you... I control you BOTH!” He made three gashes across her underside, and when both Mynk and Hyso flinched, ready to attack, the terrifyingly creepy man returned the blade to the rattata’s throat.

Overwhelming fear and stomach-twinging hopelessness seeped into the witnesses, and they were left to stare, horrified, at what they were forced to watch. “Gigin...” they both breathed.

“But just to spite you...” he started, pressing the blade into her throat nearly with enough pressure to cut her, “I’LL KILL IT!”

The last Mynk and Hyso saw of the purple, white and red scene was a blur whiz onto the human’s shoulder and fail to hesitate before thrusting his pearly whites into the fleshy neck. The human’s face remained the same as he released Gigin—who hurried over to Hyso as if for protection. The knife dropped, a clatter ringing as it landed onto a stone. The man began to teeter, and the surrounding pokémon followed with their pupils as he leaned, proceeding to plummet flat on his front. More blood flowed out from his freshest wound, meeting with the other pools.

Gigin dug her face into Hyso’s furry chest as they sat upright. Panting and frightening whimpers surrounded the four pokémon, and Mynk suddenly felt her nose sting and settle down right before more tears generated and dripped down her fur.

The rattata standing next to the dead body then became the centre of attention, Gigin pulling her head from white fur to set her sights on the least likely hero. His expression held perplexity and almost worried hope. “...I did the right thing...didn’t I?”

***

Having released all three of her previous master’s pokémon, Mynk said her goodbyes to each of them after destroying their poké balls—hers included. Apparently, the only way to really release a pokémon from a trainer was to smash their poké ball beyond repair. Otherwise the pokémon technically was still under the trainer’s jurisdiction and was required to obey their orders.

She had buried her ear right before the famous bush deep in the ground, giving thanks to the bush’s spirit for keeping her going. The four had briefly cleaned themselves up, but knew they would do so professionally when they reached a river or lake.

“You ready?” Gigin asked the one-eared zigzagoon with a slight smile and a caring tone. Mynk nodded, half-heartedly smiling back.

“The clan’s gonna love ya,” Hyso persuaded, also beaming. Jep, faded blood still surrounding his muzzle, agreed with a friendly nod.

“Thank you, everyone... Without you all, I wouldn’t be...free.” Mynk bowed her head, and the small group flashed contentment as they padded off together. The zigzagoon paused, telling them she would catch up in just a few seconds. The raccoon-like pokémon zigzagged her way back to the bush, taking one last look at trainer-hood. Her chain had loosened, and she shook it off as she backed up, dipping her head and allowing it to slide off. She picked it up in her mouth and tossed it with one last regard onto her former master, breathing a meaningful exhaled breath.

“Farewell.”

**Dragon Master Mike** · 02-04-2014, 11:32 PM

Wow! I really like your poems! Memories describes perfectly what i have been thinking about a lot lately, particularly in the last two parts. It's her heart.... To be honest i'm not even sure what to think about it. It's really weird XD. For now i'm just going to say I have no opinion on it. Fading i think is the best one of all. I'm not 100% sure what its about, but something just drew me in. I'm going to guess: Is it about bullies? Most likely not but something towards the end made me think that as a possibility. Haven't read the stories yet, but i plan to.

Overall i think these poems are really good, and I would love to read more.

**Suicune's Fire** · 02-05-2014, 05:21 AM

Thank you! :D Glad you liked Memories. And yeah, the heart one is weird. xD I'll take it down since I wrote it a while ago. XD And yeah, I like Fading the most too. It's actually about fears. I suffered from this dumb irrational fear for over a year that affected my sleeping ability, and I hated it more than anything. >.< Bullies is a good guess though, since they basically were inner demons/bullies. XD

Thank you so much. C: If I write more I'll certainly post them! Thanks for reading! :D

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