“Get out!”
This image is an illustration for a novella, which you can read below. The story is based in the world of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon, making reference to the first games, Red/Blue Rescue Team, and the second games, Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky. No familiarity with these games is required to read this work, and it stands alone.
This story was written barely a month after the death of my partner. It is a sad, bleak work, and one that is very personal to me. It would be easy to hide something like this away, but I think it’s important that art like this is shared. If nothing else, I hope that my experiences here will help others at some point down the line.
Given the circumstances in which it was written, please be advised that this story contains some dark themes that some readers may not be comfortable with. These include reflections on death, intense grief, and personal loss. If you’re feeling fragile right now, for whatever reason, I’d suggest moving on for now, and maybe talking to a friend or family member if you can. You can always come back and read this later, when you’re feeling better. The story will still be here.
Because of the nature of this work, I have not included my usual closing notes. However, you can still find some brief practical information after the final double tilde.
Background music:
<Runaway Faith – TehGuitahHeroe>
~
It started first as a dim awareness of pain. There was a large shard of rock biting into his chest. It wasn’t enough to pierce the skin, but it was an annoyance, and hardly comfortable.
Odd. How did it get there?
The floor he was lying on was hard and cold. Griff languidly tried to shift position to see if the rock could be dislodged, but managed only to further wedge it into his fur. He sighed a little, and stopped short as the breath caught in his throat. There was dust in the air, and the smell of soil, and his mouth was as dry as parchment. He lapsed into a weak fit of coughing.
When the fit had passed, he lay on the cool floor and pondered. It was a odd place to fall asleep, and he couldn’t remember how he –
The coughing fit had helped to wake his mind up from its stupor, and his training took over. He was waking from sleep in a strange and unusual place, and he had no memory of how he had got here. That most likely meant that the sleep was artificial, that he had been forcefully put to sleep during a fight. Even now there could be a fierce battle going on, and he and his colleagues could be in danger!
And yet, it was almost completely silent. All he could hear was a slight whistle, possibly the sound of wind passing a cliff. Something strange was going on here. The Growlithe cautiously opened his eyes.
He was lying on a sizeable ledge of rock in an underground cavern. Several body-lengths in front of him, the ground fell away into a deep, wide ravine that plunged into darkness. On the other side of the fissure was another sizeable ledge, about level with this one. It looked like both ledges had once been part of the same natural cavern, but either some disaster, or the action of running water, had split the cave in two.
The scene was illuminated from above by bright shafts of sunlight. The cavern roof arched high into the gloom over Griff’s head. However, at roughly its highest point, and near the centre of the fissure, the ceiling had collapsed, letting in the light. The collapse looked recent, and explained the dust and the wads of dirt clustered around him.
Suddenly, he remembered what had happened.
He swallowed, trying to clear the dryness from his throat, and yelled as loudly as he could muster. If he was here, then the other Growlithe he had been travelling with might be in danger.
“Growlie!”
It had been another very familiar mission. He and Growlie had been on countless trips out into the depths of the continent in recent months, giving aid and support to those most affected by the darkness descending over the world. This trip was to have been no different.
The world was in chaos. For over a year now, a strange and dangerous poison had been seeping out from across the ocean. It had quickly acquired the name ‘the Paralysis’, thanks in part to descriptions given by Xatu, one of the team’s most important advisors. The name was apt. Within its borders, the Paralysis quite literally stopped time in its tracks for all non-living things. The land inside the region was in a state of perpetual dusk. The natural rhythms of living things were greatly disrupted. Without help, there was not enough light to sustain plant life; crops quickly sickened and died. Rivers stopped flowing, cutting people off from their water supply. And the region around the Paralysis itself snarled up the weather, driving vast and deadly hurricanes into the heart of the continent.
At first, only the team’s base in the port town of Pokémon Square had been affected. But the region had been expanding relentlessly. The worst effects of the Paralysis were slowly spreading throughout the countryside, leaving a trail of panicked and desperate Pokémon in its wake.
Griff was proud to be a part of his team. Team Rangers was by far the largest rescue team on the continent, and had an impressive reputation. Its two leaders, Luke and Stan, had famously stopped the meteor that had threatened the entire world several years previously. Even now, they were right at the source of the Paralysis itself, trying to find a way to stop whatever incredible power was causing it. But they were the only ones there. The rest of the team had been left here, to try and deal with the effects of the disaster and to aid all the local Pokémon as best they could.
Rangers had been forewarned of the Paralysis by Xatu, and had spent considerable time planning for its coming. By making use of plant life and certain clever chemical reactions, it was possible to rig up sources of light above fields of crops and orchards. The light was not enough to keep the plants completely healthy, but it was enough to enable them to bear the food needed to keep people alive. Even the courses of rivers could be changed with effort and manpower.
Teams had been sent out whenever they were available to teach these techniques to those who were in the path of the Paralysis. People were encouraged to use them where possible, but small communities and those in need were helped either back to Pokémon Square, where the pooled resourced of Rangers had allowed a small city to spring up that was valiantly pushing against the darkness, or to move further inland where the effects were less serious.
He and Growlie had been on their way to visit some isolated communities in a remote forested region several days travel from the Square. The journey had been slow and uneventful, but still enjoyable. He and Growlie were fast friends, and Griff always valued the time they spent together. Whenever possible, the two Pokémon tried to work together.
They had been several miles out from the first village when the accident happened. They had been walking slowly through an unusually large clearing in a particularly dense region of the forest. The day had been cool, and there was the smell of spring flowers in the air. As they had reached the middle of the clearing, the ground had lurched underneath them. He remembered that Growlie had shouted something to him, although in the heat of the moment he didn’t hear what the other Pokémon had said. Then, a huge sinkhole had opened in the ground, and the night consumed him.
The rock was still there, pressing into his chest. Griff shook himself, realising that he was in danger of passing out again. The ground was bitterly cold, but lying on it felt strangely comfortable. Right now, sleep seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
Get a grip, Griff! If I don’t move now, I might get myself into more trouble than I already am.
The Growlithe braced himself, and then tried to stand. Little lances of agony rang through his legs, and he collapsed, whining softly. It took a few more, slightly more careful attempts, but eventually Griff was able to stand. He shook the stiffness out of his muscles, and slowly wandered around his side of the cave, trying to get the blood pumping through his system again.
This didn’t bode well. In order for him to get this weak, he must have been passed out on the stone floor for quite some time. That meant that his friend Growlie was either unable to reach him, didn’t know what had happened to him or, worse, was in greater trouble than he was.
Griff stared at the hole in the ceiling of the cavern. That settled it. The sinkhole was far too large for his friend to have escaped unscathed; the Pokémon was too close to him when the hole had opened up. That meant that Growlie must have fallen too.
His eyes crept over to the ravine.
No ...
He walked over to the cliff edge and peered down. The fissure was very deep, extending down further than the faint light from above could penetrate. On impulse, he went and picked up the sharp rock that had woken him from his sleep. He hefted it and threw it into the pit.
Good riddance!
He waited for several seconds, and then several more. Finally, he heard the faintest of splashes as the rock hit water.
I guess the fissure was caused by a river after all.
Still, the hole was very, very deep. Even with water at the bottom, anyone who fell down there wouldn’t have a chance.
He turned and scanned the other side of the cave. With the exception of the mass of soil and grass that had fallen through the sink hole with them, there was no sign that any Pokémon had been there. The dust seemed undisturbed.
At least there’s no blood. I think that would be worse.
As he turned his head to look into the far corner of the cave, a brief spark of light from within the fissure caught his eye. He turned towards it with a start.
The metal eyes of a Lucario badge glinted at him from the darkness.
The team bag was hanging from a spur of rock about ten meters down the other side of the crevasse. It hung open, the Lucario badge seemingly damaged in the fall, but the bag still seemed to be mostly full.
Great. Just great.
The bag was full of all the supplies he needed: food, water and medicines. But it was about as unreachable as if it had been on the moon. The crevasse was far too wide to even consider crossing. He doubted he could leap a quarter of that distance. And even if he could make it across, he would still have to scale ten meters of nearly sheer rock wall in order to reach it.
Fat chance. I was never the climbing type.
Still, that helped answer a question for him, and gave him new resolve. It had been his friend who had carried the bag. The fact that it was on the other side of the ravine clearly meant that Growlie had landed on the other side of the cave. If Growlie had fallen better than he himself had, he might have landed on the ledge without being knocked out. No doubt after trying to rouse him, Growlie would have left the cave in order to try and get to him. No doubt, his friend was already close at hand.
His throat was dry again.
He could idle here and wait for Growlie, but that didn’t sit well with him. He was tired and hungry, and the cave was cold and unwelcoming. He didn’t want to stay here any longer than he had to. Besides, his team training firmly told him to do his best to find his partner and continue the mission, just in case the other member of his party was in danger. Perhaps ...
No. Happy thoughts. He’s fine. Definitely fine.
He tried to quell the rising panic. What he needed now was a job to do to keep his mind off things. The most sensible course of action, he mused, was to try and find his way to the other side of the cave. That was the most likely spot Growlie could have landed, and the best place he could find evidence of where his friend might be. Besides, he could always try to climb down to the team bag from there.
Griff smiled wanly.
The Growlithe turned and walked towards the back of the cave. Thankfully, he was not cut off here. Several passageways intersected with the cavern and led off into the darkness. He chose the largest one, and set off.
It was depressing moving out of the weak sunlight of the cavern but, fortunately, the tunnel wasn’t completely dark. The walls and ceiling were lined in patches with several varieties of luminescent plants and moss that gave off a faint but welcome glow. These plants were ubiquitous in many underground areas on the continent, particularly in deep mystery dungeons. Apparently, these plants extracted energy from minerals and water locked into the rocks themselves, giving off light as a byproduct of chemical reactions. Some plants had taken advantage of this process; a number of carnivorous plants had learned to adjust how much light they gave off, and used occasional bursts of light to lure small insects. However, even the moss was thin and patchy here.
Wonderful. Even the moss doesn’t like this place.
It took some time to get used to the low light, and several times he stepped on sharp rocks that he hadn’t picked out in the gloom, much to his chagrin. Still, the more he walked, the more he found his strength returning. Perhaps he hadn’t been as injured in the fall as he had thought. Granted, he wasn’t bounding along, but he felt that he would be able to walk for some time before having to stop.
The passageway went on a little further, and then promptly divided into two past a heavy basalt outcrop. Griff paused for a moment. There was little to choose between either path, and both still headed away from the cave.
He looked from one to the other, then closed his eyes, spun around and pointed at random. His claw was pointing more towards the lefthand path than the righthand path.
He started along that path, and then caught himself. It would do no good to pick paths at random and get himself lost. He had to be able to find his way back to the cavern in case Growlie did come looking for him. He backtracked a little until he came across a large, loose stone on the passage floor. Taking it, he returned to the junction and carved a large arrow into the moss on the passage wall that pointed back towards the cavern.
There. That should do it.
With that, he headed down the passage.
The passage lead to another split, and then another. On occasion, the passages opened out into small rooms and larger caves. Apparently, this was quite a complicated warren. Perhaps, thought Griff, this had once been a mystery dungeon that had returned to a more natural state after the destruction of the meteor, or perhaps some enterprising rock types had hewn this set of tunnels out of the bedrock years before. Still, this didn’t make his job any easier.
After he had been travelling from some time, it quickly became clear that the route he was taking was only taking him further away from the cavern, and not back towards it. He backtracked, and tried another route, only with the same result. He tried again, and again, and again. Every route he took seemed to take him further away from where he wanted to be.
Eventually, Griff began to feel weariness creeping into him. It was hard to keep time down in the tunnels under the constant light of the glowing moss, but it felt like he must have been searching these tunnels for very many hours. He desperately wanted to keep on searching, but he knew in his heart that it would be futile. He would only put himself in more danger if he pushed himself past his limits.
He could always settle down to rest in the tunnels, but that didn’t seem right. He was angry and frustrated, and the tunnels felt cloying and claustrophobic. Besides, he needed to go to the most likely place he would be found by Growlie. With a heavy heart, he turned around and trudged back to the fissure.
It took some time to make the journey back. On the way, he found himself humming to himself. It was a mostly tuneless rambling, but it helped to keep his spirits up. The trip was mostly uneventful, but on a few occasions he swore that he briefly caught glimpses of shadows and movement from some of the tunnel mouths. He thought at first that there might in fact be other Pokémon in these caves after all, but he ended up putting it down to seeing things in his exhaustion.
Eventually, he made it back to the cavern. It was dark; it must have been night above ground, for no light came through the sinkhole. Moving as close to the fissure as he dared – he felt it important to be in plain sight from the other side of the cavern – he settled down to sleep.
Sleep was slow in coming. In his restlessness, he found himself gazing towards the team bag hanging from its spur on the fissure wall. He was cold, exhausted and hungry, and everything he needed to help himself was hanging just out of his grasp.
His dreams were haunted by stories Luke had once told him, of the man Tantalus who was doomed to stand forever in a pool of water under vines laden with grapes, but unable to ever reach them.
~
He awoke as the light of the sun filtered down through the sinkhole. He felt weak and woozy, but thankfully much less exhausted than he had felt yesterday. He also knew that he was in trouble.
If Growlie had not found him by now, the Growlithe might never do so. He had already gone for at least a day without food and, more importantly, without water. If he didn’t find a source of supplies soon, he would eventually become too weak to keep exploring. If that happened ...
He didn’t dare think would would happen then.
Clearly, his strategy of finding a route to the other side of the crevasse had been a failure. He needed a new plan. After musing on this for a while, it seemed like the only sensible thing to do was to try to hike all the way up to the surface. Surely somewhere in these tunnels there must be an opening above ground!
A voice in his mind told him that it was foolishness, but he kept the hope alive regardless.
With a false cheerfulness, he headed towards the passages leaving the chamber. He chose a different passage this time. Unlike the previous day, he tried to use his wits to achieve his goal. With each split in the path, he looked carefully at his options and chose the path that seemed to rise most steeply, if at all, or where the glowing moss was brightest.
At first, it looked like he was making some progress, but before too long his climb was halted, and all routes plunged downwards once again. Oddly, this served to improve his mood. It was as if the caves themselves were mocking him, and he refused to let some mere rocks grind him down! A number of times, he found passages that rose sharply for some distance, only to falter, or to blocked with rockfalls, or to peter out to nothing. But he kept going. He felt his mood getting brighter, even as he himself got weaker.
After a few hours, he saw his first Pokémon.
He was just returning down another failed passage to the surface. The floor was smooth and free of rubble, and he was moving quietly. At first, he thought he had taken a wrong turning, for in the centre of the cavern ahead was a rock formation that he didn’t recognise. Then, as he watched, the rocks turned towards him and suddenly reared back, startled.
At the sight of him, the Onix turned on its heels and fled.
Odd. Onix are usually confrontational creatures. Why is this one scared of me?
Over the next several hours, Griff occasionally chanced upon several more creatures. Each one turned and fled as soon as they were aware of him. Now that he knew there were other creatures in the caverns, he walked quietly and stealthily whenever he felt the presence of another creature. On a few occasions, he got close enough to one of the fleeing creatures to notice that they looked weak and malnourished.
That makes sense. I’ve found nothing to sustain myself here, and what there is is probably barely enough to feed those who live here. They’re probably terrified of competition.
Still, he kept his guard up, even so. Other Pokémon, even weakened ones, could still be dangerous to him in his weakened state. And who knew if these creatures were afraid of something else in these caverns?
He was contemplating giving up his search for the day when a miracle happened. He was walking down a passageway that was heading downwards once again when he passed into a low, small cave. The light of the moss was dim here, and he could barely see. He walked out into the cave in order to ascertain whether there was any exit.
Then, his claws plunged into a stream.
He whooped with joy, the sound coming out more like a croak than a shout, and plunged his head into the steam. He gulped down a few mouthfuls of the delicious, cool mountain stream before caution stopped him. He remembered that one of the most dangerous things to give someone dying of thirst was easy access to water. Often, they would drink the water so quickly that they would overwhelm their digestive system, cramp and perhaps even pass out. He forced himself to drink slowly.
The water was the most delicious thing he could ever remember tasting.
After some time, feeling much relieved, and with a belly sloshing full of water, he sat on the side of the stream, content. Granted, he was tired and hungry, but now at least the major source of danger to him had been relieved: he had access to clean, fresh water.
He found himself looking down at the stream.
While the effects of the Paralysis were only slowly making themselves felt here, clearly one of the nasty problems was already rearing its ugly head. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the lower level of light in the cave, he could see the stream more clearly. It looked perfectly natural at a glance, but a closer look revealed that the water wasn’t flowing. The stream was frozen in place, a picture postcard of a flowing river, but not actually moving.
More oddly, there was a deep hole right in the centre of the stream where he had drunk the water. As he had drunk from the stream, no water flowed into the gap he had left, resulting in a deep depression ringed by higher water on all sides, much like someone had thrown an invisible ball into the water.
This was the danger of the frozen water. Because it no longer flowed, there was only ever so much water in one place. Use it all up, and you had to find another source of water.
Perhaps I’m not out of the woods just yet. And yet ...
He started, and howled for joy. This time, with water in his belly, the sound came out as a great, joyful cry. For he had found a stream. That stream had at least once flowed down into the system of caves. All he needed to do was to follow the water uphill and, barring it becoming impassible, he would be able to find a route to the surface.
He had water and a way out. Two birds with one stone. The day was looking brighter.
He sat for a moment, and then took another drink for luck. Then, he set out from the cavern, following the stream upwards.
~
He followed the stream for what felt like about an hour. His hunch seemed to be paying off, and the ground kept rising steadily as he travelled. On occasion, he had to leave the stream; sometimes, it climbed ledges too high for him to reach, or flowed through tunnels too low or too narrow for him to pass. However, now that he had a broad direction to travel in, he always managed to find the path again.
The water had filled him with a new energy. He found himself humming again. This wasn’t the grim ditty of the previous day, but a joyful little melody he’d probably picked up from Luke at some point.
He was travelling through a small, narrow cave lined with transparent crystal deposits when he heard a sound up ahead. He stopped his tune and listened intently. His humming had obscured the sound, and he probably would have heard it sooner if he had stayed silent.
You’re forgetting your training, Griff! Don’t get overconfident.
It took him a while to place the sound, since it was so incongruous to the surroundings. It was a deep, slow, bass murmur with undulating rising and falling pitch. It was –
A Pokémon was weeping. And a large one at that.
The sound echoed down the tunnel at the end of the cavern he was traversing, and it sounded like the crying was coming from straight ahead of him. Had the crying come from another direction, he probably would have detoured to take a look and see if he could help. As it was, the Pokémon was almost certainly on the path of the stream. That made sense, after all. The stream was about the only hospitable place in these tunnels.
Still, he had to be careful. He had no idea how the Pokémon would react when they were discovered. Slowly, and as silently as he could, moving low to the ground, Griff stalked towards the exit to the cave.
After what seemed like an eternity, and numerous twists and turns later, he came across the source of the sound.
The tunnel he was travelling through opened into a medium-sized cavern with a high ceiling. The river passed along its righthand edge, opening out into a small, deep pool. The pool had clearly been used for drinking water. On the opposite wall of the cave were a number of small fumaroles. Griff imagined that these steam vents had once kept the cavern hot and comfortable with their dry steam. However, the Paralysis was taking its toll even here. The steam, clearly less affected by the Paralysis than large bodies of water, but affected even so, was slowly rising in little, feeble fits and bursts from the openings in the ground. The small quantity of steam quickly dispersed into the cave as if it had never been.
The cave was bitterly cold, not helped by the large pool of cold water.
But this was not what caught his attention. Sitting close to the fumaroles was possibly the largest Charizard he had ever seen. The creature was hunched over, claws over its eyes, its body wracked with sobs, its chest heaving. The deep bass of its cries filled the chamber with a brooding, desperate melancholy. Hanging around its neck was what looked like a deep blue bandana.
The Charizard sat a short distance from a large, blazing fire. The fire did little to alleviate the chill in the chamber – the space was too large for that – but it did take an edge off the freezing conditions, and helped light the cavern.
Behind the imposing figure were piles and piles of supplies, from apples and other food items to bottles of health drinks, gummis, berries and more besides. Griff felt his mouth instinctively water at the proximity of such a vast quantity of food, and pangs in his stomach suddenly made it clear to him just how hungry he was.
Caution, Griff. Don’t rush in before you know what’s going on.
Beside the large quantity of foodstuffs were a large number of barrels filled with what appeared to be water, although it was hard to tell at this distance. If that was so, then the Charizard was clearly dealing with the Paralysis well. The creature had noticed the problem of drinking from the stream, and had taken steps to make sure that there was access to plenty of water. Alongside this, there were stacks of wood, probably very many trees worth, and huge piles of kindling for the fire. There were enough supplies in this cave to last for months, possibly even a year if the fruit was treated properly.
But clearly something had gone wrong somewhere.
How best to deal with this?
He decided to go for an honest, direct approach. He had no idea how the Charizard would react if startled, and he wanted to make sure that the creature was comfortable with his presence before approaching too closely.
He stepped from the mouth of the tunnel, heading straight out into the cave a little way and directly into the light of the overhanging cave moss. He deliberately scuffed his feet and knocked a few stones loose as he walked. The slight sound of his passage rang through the cave. Any Pokémon as clever as this Charizard would already be clearly aware of his passage.
The Charizard didn’t stir, and it didn’t break off from its weeping.
Griff steeled himself, and walked further into the cavern. The creature must be ignoring him, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A dark voice in his mind told him that he could easily give the creature a wide berth and make off with a good number of supplies, sating his hunger and giving him the energy he needed to finish his journey to the surface.
But he knew that he couldn’t do that. The sadness of the poor Pokémon in front of him tugged at his heart. He felt compassion for the Charizard, and he knew that he had to do something to help. He was of Team Rangers, after all.
He stopped a good distance in front of the Charizard and spoke. He tried to make his voice sound confident and calming, but wasn’t successful. His voice cracked and wavered, and was full of nerves.
“Are – are you alright?”
The Charizard’s breathing slowed, and his sobbing lessened a little.
“Go away.”
The Pokémon’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but full of confidence and dripping with a cold malice.
Griff wouldn’t let himself be perturbed.
“I’m sorry. I was following the stream and I –”
“Get out!”
Griff had no time to react. As he watched, the Charizard expanded his arms and wings outward, and reared his chest upwards. The Pokémon’s body began to glow a deep, ominous red that brightened and brightened to an almost blinding intensity. Then, after barely a second had passed, the brightness coalesced into a tall ring of fire, almost white-hot. The ring hung in the air for a heartbeat, and then sped outwards. All this was done without the Charizard removing the claws from its eyes, or stopping its sobbing.
Griff was consumed by a deep wall of raging flames.
Blast Burn!
But the Growlithe was a fire type, and prepared for such situations. He angled himself into the oncoming fire, and expanded his body size as much as he could. He closed his eyes to protect his vision, and furrowed his brow in concentration. The outer hairs of his fur stood on end, and his skin tingled.
With every ounce of his strength, he focused on the heat energy that was washing over him. He dragged it towards him, and felt the response as the energy was absorbed into the special hairs and follicles of his body. He felt power flooding into him, and the heat of the surrounding flames diminished. He felt ready to pounce and attack, to run and run and keep on running. Seemingly boundless energy coursed through him, feeling almost intoxicating in its intensity.
And then the attack passed. Griff was standing in the cool air again. He had not even been singed by the passing wall of fire, and he felt stronger than ever. This wasn’t something that every Growlithe was able to do, but he had been lucky enough to learn from an early age that he could endure fire attacks this way. Some of his younger friends had had to try to learn the tactic from scratch, and they didn’t always succeed. Members of Rangers referred to the ability to resist fire in this way by the somewhat overwrought term ‘Flash Fire’, although that sounded a little dramatic to him.
He faced the Charizard, prepared for another assault. In a typical Rangers fashion, he erected a small, transparent Protect bubble around himself. It never hurt to be too careful, and the Charizard might have other move types up its sleeve.
But the creature’s posture sagged. It looked exhausted, its energy spent. Its sobbing had stopped, its energy finally spent by the attack.
It was only then that Griff noticed how ill the creature looked. Sure, the creature was large, but its skin, which would usually be bright and shiny, instead took on a dull pallor. Worse, the Charizard’s tail-flame was terribly weak, almost burned out. That was a sure sign that this Pokémon was in a bad way, to put it mildly. No doubt, the incredibly strong attack that he had just endured had only added to the Charizard’s weakness.
He had to do something.
Scattered around the creature were the scattered remains of supplies taken from the pile nearby. There were half-eaten apples, along with cores and other discarded waste. But there were a number of prime supplies within easy reach.
Confident that the Charizard didn’t pose as much of a threat as its huge bulk would imply, Griff walked slowly towards the creature and picked up an apple, huge and red. He was tempted to partake of the fruit himself, but that would only make things worse. He walked right up to the creature, and offered the apple as high up as he could muster. He barely reached above the creature’s knees.
“Look, you seem to be in a bad way. You need to conserve your strength. Please, you need to eat something.”
For a moment, the Charizard ignored him. Then, the creature slowly removed its claws from its eyes, and reached down and delicately plucked the apple from Griff’s extended claw. The Charizard’s eyes were red and shot through with agony. Griff was struck by how old the Pokémon suddenly looked.
The Charizard threw the apple into its mouth and crunched on it, swallowing it whole, core and all. After a moment, the creature breathed a small wisp of fire out of its nostrils towards him, and then proceeded to ignore the Growlithe again.
Well. It’s a start.
Growlithe walked back a step and tried to look the Charizard directly in the eyes. The creature was looking down at the ground, and refused to meet his gaze.
“I’m sure something really bad has happened here. I’m sorry. You must feel awful. And I’m sure you want to be left alone.”
The Charizard didn’t move.
“But I can’t do that. You are really not well, and you’re weak besides. If you get any worse, I’m afraid that you might get into some serious trouble. I am not leaving here until I know what has happened to you, and what I can do to help!”
The Charizard was silent for a moment. Griff stood his ground, glaring at the creature now in a pang of annoyance.
Then, finally, the creature turned to look at him.
“I doubt I’m in any more danger than you, little pup. Why don’t you go and die somewhere else, and leave me be?”
Curiously, the voice didn’t carry the anger he might have expected. It was sad and quiet, and filled with a resigned sense of hopelessness. The creature started idly scratching in the ground with a claw, once again ignoring him.
Griff’s hunger was finally getting the better of him.
“Would you mind if I took a few of your supplies first? I haven’t eaten for days, and I’m not doing so well. It would help me get away from you more quickly ...”
His voice trailed off, a little dry and cynical. But the Charizard didn’t respond, content in making his little dust pictures.
Slowly, and making his intent quite plain, Griff walked towards the piles of supplies. He took several apples from the pile, modest ones that weren’t too large, and an Oran Berry. Then, he returned to sit in front of the Charizard and started eating. He intended to do so slowly and almost reverently, but as soon as the first taste of food hit his mouth, he threw caution to the wind. He wolfed the food down, so violently that he was almost sick. It was good, sweet and nourishing, and juice dribbled down his chin. He was quiet for a few moments, appreciating the feeling of the food slowly making its way into his stomach. For the first time since he had arrived, he finally had everything that he needed.
The two Pokémon sat in silence for some time. The Charizard’s dust pictures grew more elaborate.
Griff started to feel tired. The adrenaline that had kept him going over the past few days was beginning to fade, replaced with the slow energy that was coming from the food. Still, he had to try to find out what was wrong with this Charizard. With all the supplies here, it seemed that he had all the time in the world.
Perhaps a different tactic would work.
“Listen, I was wondering if you would help me with something?”
The Charizard continued idly drawing.
“I fell into this system of caves by accident. But a friend of mine also fell in here. His name is Growlie, another Growlithe. He’s a really good friend of mine, but we lost each other after the fall. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, but I’ve been looking for him for days, and I haven’t seen any sign of him.
“Have you seen another Growlithe like me around here? I really want to find him again, and then I could get out of your hair.”
The Charizard laughed softly, a harsh, bitter laugh that carried no humour in it.
“Good luck with that. You know how many Growlithe there are around here? Trying to find one amongst all of them is a fool’s errand. Get lost, and leave me be.”
Griff stifled a stab of irritation. However, there was also hope in what the Charizard had said. If there were more Pokémon here than he had thought, including Growlithe, then perhaps the caves were more hospitable than they seemed to be. Perhaps he had been unlucky in where he had landed. If Growlie had found a better region of the caves ...
But now was not the time for such thoughts.
“Say, as we’re going to be here for a while, let me introduce myself. My name is Griff. I’m a member of the rescue team Rangers. Maybe you’ve heard of us?”
The Charizard didn’t respond.
“No matter. We do our best to help people whenever we can. Do you remember the meteor that nearly hit last year, that caused the spate of natural disasters and the formation of the mystery dungeons? It was Rangers who destroyed it!
“We’re doing our best now to deal with the problems caused by the slowing down of time. I know you’ve noticed it, and I’m impressed with how you’ve handled it. I can see that you’ve stopped drinking from the pool now that the water has stopped flowing, and that you’ve brought water supplies into the cave instead. Not every Pokémon would do that.
“We call it the Paralysis. It’s a nasty effect that seems to have originated on another continent. We’re doing everything we can both to stop it, and to help those affected.”
People tended to joke that Griff was overly chatty, and that once he got going, he was difficult to stop. The Charizard seemed too weak and tired even to show signs of irritation. He kept on ignoring the Growlithe.
“That’s why Growlie and I came here. There are some villages in the forest above ground, and we were worried that they would be having problems with their plants and crops. In fact, we were concerned that the local trees might die and collapse in the harsh weather, causing injury. But a sinkhole opened before we could reach them, and we fell into these caves.
“You’d like Growlie. I know you would. He had a good heart, and is one of the most loyal Pokémon I have ever known. He’s so energetic and, no matter what happens, he’s always cheerful. I can’t help but smile every time he’s around.
Watch your tongue, Griff. You don’t want to offend this Charizard by accident.
Still, the tiredness was starting to make him nostalgic. It seemed an age since the accident, and somehow he hadn’t really thought too much about what had happened until now. He had needed to keep pushing himself in order to survive, and now that he was comfortable, with food, water and a job to do, he started to feel curiously light-headed. He couldn’t stop thinking of Growlie.
He went on at a tangent.
“He and I grew up on Mount Thunder. It’s a tall mountain some way from here, although I’m sure you will have seen it if you’ve been above ground. It dominates the skyline for miles and miles. It’s a bleak place, filled with twisted, sickly trees and wispy grass, but it was home to us. But there was more than enough food to go around if you knew where to look, and the hostile environment kept us safe. More than that, we were protected.
“Our families, and all those on the mountain, were protected by Zapdos herself! The great bird of lightning claimed the mountain as her own, and she looked after us as if we were all her own relatives. Even when the natural disasters starting hitting the mountain during the fall of the meteor, she did everything she could to protect us and her home.
“I don’t go back there much these days. I miss it.”
He pictured the old family den, nestled by a clump of trees that grew in an elongated diamond shape, the ground rolling gently down towards the thicker forest. It was isolated even from the other Growlithe families, but it was peaceful and homely.
Maybe I should visit the old place again when this is all over.
“Of course, I never knew Growlie when I was growing up. His family lived well around the curve of the mountain from mine, and there was never too much reason to travel away from our homes. We just got on with the process of living. Life was calm, and peaceful, but cloying.
“I longed to leave, and it’s right that I did so, I think. I wasn’t mature enough to appreciate the quiet then, and I’m still not.
“So I was excited when Rangers visited the mountain when I was old enough to search for them. They had come several times before, not least right at the beginning, when the disasters first woke Zapdos. But I had been little then, and the stories that were once doubtful and confused were quickly turning into legends. Luke and Stan seem to have that effect on people.
“The team was visiting trying to recruit more members. Stan had been the first to do this, and ever since, Rangers had been trying to add to its ranks whenever it could. In the aftermath of the damage done by the meteor, there was so much that needed to be done, and so many Pokémon that needed aid, that every hand that could be used was welcome.
“They were travelling the mountain, demonstrating their skill in battle, and their knowledge of the world. They told the story of how they helped end the disasters, too. I went to seek them out as soon as I was old enough.
“I was lucky. It was Luke and Stan themselves who came when I visited! It was amazing. I had heard stories about them for years, and yet here they were, Mudkip and Treecko, on my mountain! I have never seen a team that worked together so well. It was as if they each knew what the other was thinking. They could move as a fluid unit, each one covering the other. They passed attacks from one to the other and back again. It was extraordinary.
“I challenged them to a battle, of course. It seemed only natural. They defeated my attacks easily, as I had expected. But they had been carefully testing my ability, my courage and my skill, lowering their own power and ability to my own level.”
His eyes grew distant.
“I can remember, even now, Luke smiling at me, offering me the team badge. My whole life changed, then.”
As he was musing on the past, almost forgetting the Charizard in front of him, he felt a strange sadness start to wash over him. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but he kept up his story.
“I was the first Pokémon they recruited on the mountain that day. We went together, the three of us, and recruited several others. Most Pokémon had no interest in joining the team, but those few who were more adventurous, or who were tired of the mountain, ended up slowly adding to the team’s ranks.
“As we walked round the mountain, we eventually came across another Growlithe, Growlie. You know, it’s funny. I’ve seen many of my kind in my time, but I’ve not met a Growlithe quite like him. From the first moment we met, I wanted to find out more about him. And he seemed to want to do the same.
“In fact, when he approached the team, he wanted to fight me, not the others.”
Thinking about Growlie was only making the sadness inside him grow. It was like there was a pressure in his chest, struggling to get out. He forced his voice to stay calm and level.
“I won that fight, much to my delight. But somehow, looking back on it, I have the feeling Growlie might have thrown it, after all. Whenever I’ve seen him fight since, he’s always been more confident, more powerful than he seemed on that first occasion.
“Still, it was nice to have another Growlithe around who was about my age, and shared my upbringing. Ever since then, we’ve worked together whenever we can, and we’ve gotten to know each other well. He’s a –”
And here his voice broke.
“He’s a very good friend. We even moved together when we left the mountain, setting up dens on the opposite side of a small hillock in Scorched Plains. You know, it seems like an awfully long time since I’ve done work without him ...”
He felt tears coming, welling up unbidden. The Charizard seemed unmoved, intent on its drawings. No doubt, it was hoping that its impassive behaviour would eventually cause him to get bored and leave.
He knew where the sadness was coming from, now. He had been hiding from the truth since the moment he had awoken here, but deep down he knew what was clawing at him. He couldn’t deny it forever. He voice was shaky, and he felt his legs begin to tremble. He looked down towards the ground, oddly embarrassed.
“When I woke after the fall through the sinkhole, I found myself near the side a deep ravine. It was wide, cutting across an underground chamber. And it was directly under the sinkhole. I must have been moving when the ground collapsed, because the momentum carried me away from the ravine.
“But Growlie ...”
He tried again.
“I saw his bag shortly after I awoke. He had been carrying it while we had been travelling. But now it was hooked onto a ledge some distance below the lip of the chasm. If it was there, well, I –
“I think he’s dead.”
“I only escaped the ravine through chance. I’ve been looking for him since then, holding on to the hope that perhaps he survived, and that he went for help, or landed on the other side of the cavern. Anything. But I’ve done all I can, and he’s not here. He would never abandon me. He must –”
A noise cut him off. He looked up.
The Charizard was weeping again.
The odd change of circumstances checked his grief somewhat. In fact, now that he had voiced his suspicions, he found himself feeling a little better. Besides, there were more important problems here being felt by this poor creature. Whatever had happened, there was nothing he could do about Growlie for the moment.
He wiped his eyes, and walked over to the Charizard. He put his front paws on top of the Charizard’s feet, an old Growlithe symbol of compassion and trust.
“Please. What’s wrong?”
The Charizard’s breath was coming out in fits and bursts now, rasping through the creature’s throat.
Between sobs, the Pokémon managed to get out a single word.
“Farrant!”
Griff was confused.
“Farrant? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
It seemed impossible to comfort a creature of this size, but he tried anyway. He wrapped his body around the Charizard’s shin, giving it as much of a hug as he was capable. Slowly, the creature’s sobs subsided. For a moment, the cave was quiet again.
Griff was about the speak, but he was cut off by a long sigh from the Charizard. The creature looked down at him, eyes still wet.
“You can let go now, you know.”
Griff did so, feeling oddly embarrassed, and stood back, trying to get at a better angle so that he could see the Charizard’s face more clearly.
“You said –”
“Yes. Farrant.”
The Charizard sighed once more.
“Farrant is my partner. Or rather, he was. He’s dead.”
The Charizard’s voice almost broke on that last word, but the creature held its nerve. Griff took a step backwards, dumbstruck for a moment. Then, the words came.
“I’m so, so sorry. That’s awful. I –
“I’m not sure what to say. I can’t imagine how terrible that is.”
A change seemed to come over the Charizard’s eyes, although the creature’s expression was hard to read.
“Perhaps we should try again, little Griff. My name is Sirius.”
So he’s male. It’s so hard to tell the gender of a Charizard most of the time.
Sirius waved his arm around in a faux grand gesture, taking in the whole of the cavern.
“Welcome to my cave. Please, make yourself at home, and please excuse my appearance. It might not look it now, but I usually take better care of myself than this.”
“You have nothing to apologise for. If the person I loved died, I honestly don’t know what I’d do. I probably wouldn’t deal with it as well as you have.”
Sirius snorted in annoyance, but nonetheless seemed thankful for the comment.
“I say that this is my cave. It is now, I suppose. But it’s really his. Farrant’s. He lived here originally.”
Griff sat, attentive, compassion in his eyes.
“I first came here more years ago than I care to remember. I used to live in a cave high up on the slopes of a volcano quite some way north of here. That’s not where I grew up, incidentally. I’m older than I look.”
Sirius tried to feign a laugh, but didn’t really succeed. The sound that came out was faint and miserable, and quickly tapered off.
“I was chafing a little on the volcano, and I had been looking for some new places to find food for some time. Some of my friends had told me of a large forest of fruiting trees some way away. They spoke highly of it, in fact, saying that the area was beautiful and peaceful, and full of welcoming Pokémon. Honestly, I thought they were probably bigging the place up. People tend to do that of places they know well.
“Still, I had some time on my hands, so I set out to see this place for myself. Sure enough, after flying for several hours, I came across a forest that was every bit as beautiful as my friends had said. I think one reason I took to it, actually, was that it reminded me of the small orchards near where I was born, ones that I had visited with my parents.
“But this was no small orchard. The forest stretched for miles in either direction, full of fruiting and non-fruiting trees of all kinds. Although the fruit was clearly being eaten by quite a number of Pokémon, there was still plenty enough just hanging on the trees for the taking.
“I flew above the canopy for a while, taking in the sight. Then, a little clearing caught my eye. It was a good enough size to make for an easy landing, so I circled around and headed towards the clearing. As I was landing, a Pokémon came out of the tree-line ahead of me, watching intently. It was Farrant. Even after all this time, I can still picture him standing there, grin slowly spreading over his face. Somehow, I think he had expected to be disappointed by me, but found himself thinking much the opposite.”
A distant look came over Sirius’s eyes.
“I have always enjoyed flying. There’s a wonderful freedom in it, to soar above the ground, to work with the air, to push yourself into the deep, glorious sky. I know many people who think of it as merely a tool, a simple way of getting quickly from place to place. And that’s true, and not a bad way of thinking of it.
“But that’s not flight to me. Ever since I started flying properly with my peers when I was younger, it’s always fascinated me. There’s art in it, using your body and the constantly changing ebb and flow of the wind, the air temperature, pressure and humidity. In flight, you can express yourself, bring out your emotions. You can fly boldly, or sadly, or gleefully. It all depends on how you let yourself work with the sky.
“I took pleasure that day in the landing. I was being watched, and so I decided to show off. I wanted to look my best, after all. So I banked, checking my speed as I came close to the tree line, rolled back over front and then, carrying the momentum forwards, flipped slowly head over heels. This slowed me enough that I came to a graceful stop on the fragrant grass.
“My art is important to me.
“Farrant stood still for a moment, grinning widely, and then approached. He told me that I was an impressive flyer, much more impressive than most he had seen. He seemed nice, and we chatted for quite some time, although about what I can’t now remember. We started walking through the forest after a while. I mentioned that I was in the area looking for food, and he pointed out some of the interesting local varieties as we walked.
“After some time, I realised that I was probably keeping him from whatever he was doing when I had landed. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to look after me, a stranger in the area. So I made my excuses, and said that I would pick up some of the fruit he had pointed out to me on my way back.
“But Farrant stopped me. He had a way of getting my attention, you know, of standing close to me and rubbing my right elbow. I’ve no idea what he got that from, but it was quite effective. He looked at me, clearly somewhat embarrassed, but bold nonetheless, and said that he hoped I would visit again. He offered to show me the forest properly – provided that I entertained him with some more flying. I laughed. I remember that now. I readily agreed. He was charming, and there was something nice about hearing someone compliment you as consistently as he did.
“We agreed to meet again, and I flew off, doing a slow barrel roll when I was high enough to do so.
“I came back again the following week, and he met me again in the clearing. I arrived earlier, and he showed me his forest, and all its beautiful sights, from the large waterfall that plunged into a huge sinkhole, to the small, nestled clusters of apple trees that were in full, pink blossom at that time of year.
“It was on this second trip that I noticed his interest in me. I noticed it in the body language first, the way he reacted to me in our conversations. He smiled a lot, tried to focus my attention, and was deliberately and quite frequently tactile. He’d take my arm when he wanted to show me something, or touch me on the shoulder when he wanted to ask me a question.
“I wasn’t sure what to think at first. He was charming, but I didn’t really feel the same way. Certainly, he was interesting to talk to, and funny, but we were so very different. He wasn’t, shall we say, my usual fare, nor was he like any of my other friends. Besides, at first, I thought that perhaps he had simply been impressed at my flying from the previous week, and that his attentions would be over before they had begun.
“But still, the situation was interesting. In spite of myself, I found myself liking his company, if only as a friend. We agreed to meet regularly, with my excuse that I would be gathering food for the week ahead, and his that he would help me find the best places to forage.”
Griff sat, staring up at Sirius. The Charizard was lost in the story, now, staring into space. He was probably reliving a series of memories now, playing out the story in his head.
Poor thing.
“I can remember when I changed my mind about him. It seems a strange thing, now that I think about it. This is something I’ve never told anyone, actually, including him.
“One day, I was gathering fruit, and Farrant was helping me as usual. He took a look up at the sun, and suddenly looked worried. Apparently, he had promised to gather fruits for his mother, but it had slipped his mind. He needed to be on his way right away. I was almost finished, so I offered to pack up early and walk with him.
“Curiously, Farrant looked worried at that, and started moving away quickly. He was in too much of a hurry, and he had a few things he needed to sort out in his head as he walked. He suggested that I kept on picking without him, and that we met at our usual time the following week. He turned and darted into the undergrowth.
“It was strange, but then, Farrant was a little unusual. I went back to picking fruit for a few minutes and then, bags full, took to the air.
“However, as I was banking to turn away to the north, but before I had gotten too high, I spotted Farrant below me. He was talking to a male Nuzleaf, who was accompanied by several other Pokémon. It looked like they were friends, and I thought little of it. But clearly he didn’t think the same, for Farrant caught my eye as I passed overhead. He gave me a curious look of guilt as I flew away.
“You know, it’s strange to think that I became interested in someone because of a lie. But it made me curious. Ever since then, I resolved to get to know him more, and see what else he might be hiding.
“It started out innocently enough. We kept meeting, week after week, slowly growing more friendly. We talked more, now, and I took greater interest in what he had to say. I found myself returning his affections, at first with a sense of amusement, and then genuinely. It took me a while to realise that I was falling in love, but somehow we suited each other.
“My visits grew longer, and then I started visiting twice a week, then three times. Before long, he offered to show me these caverns, and his home.”
Sirius look down at him, his voice still trembling, but firm.
“These caverns aren’t much like what they once were, you know. Back before the – what was it? – Paralysis you mentioned, these caves were beautiful. The moss on the walls started dying back months ago, and used to be much brighter. The walls are lined with crystalline deposits, and they used to sparkle in the reflected light of the plants. There was enough light that small flowers used to be able to grow in places.
“When he showed me this cave, something felt very right about the whole thing. The place was perfect, with enough room for the two of us, a source of running water, and heated by the glorious steam from those vents nearby. Yes, the same vents that are spewing pitiful wisps of air now.”
Sirius gestured to the fumaroles in annoyance.
“The place felt like home. Apparently, Farrant had been living here for years, and he was overjoyed that I liked the place so much.
“That was one way in which we were similar. This cave, as you’ve probably found out, is quite isolated. Not many Pokémon live near here, and these caves are somewhat hard to get to. Neither of us were particularly social people, and we liked our privacy and solitude. To both of us, the quietness and seclusion of this place was perfect.
“I put it off for a few weeks, but I finally decided to move in permanently. It seemed only natural, after all. I kept thinking of him when I was away, as apparently he also did, and our time together was so fruitful that it only seemed fair for us to start living together. Besides, his home was far nicer than the one I was living in in the volcano.
“I bid farewell to my friends on the mountain, and spent several days with them making preparations to leave, and holding small parties with those closest to me. Then, I took what I owned, and took flight to my new home.”
Sirius looked around the cavern.
“And what a glorious home it is.”
His voice was a curious mix of pain, sarcasm and genuine affection. Then, he broke into a laugh. It came out better than before, but it was still sad.
“I never did find out what that business with the Nuzleaf was all about. I meant to tell him, but somehow I never quite got around to it.”
Sirius sighed.
“We lived here for years, he and I, and they were some of the happiest times of my life. I have never known anyone so charming as he was to me. He was intelligent, and we shared some of the same interests. He could tell me about the history of Pokémon on the continent, of their ancient cultures and languages. I could tell him of my art of flight, of the nuances of the wind, of the science of heat, ground and water. And his face would light up whenever I entered the room. I could hold his attention, enraptured almost, whenever we were talking, and he held mine.
“He always came across in public as the confident one, but under the surface, he was nervous and unsure of himself. His almost arrogant confidence was, in part, an act. I, on the other hand, let him take the lead among others, but I helped him through his doubts when we were alone, and when he was having difficulties.
“Despite our differences, we were a good couple. I miss him.”
Sirius took a pause for a moment.
“That’s not to say we didn’t have our differences, of course. Sometimes, we needed time alone when things didn’t work out, or when one of us ended up irritated at the other. But those little tiffs always passed, and our love was the stronger for it.”
Sirius looked down, clearly hesitant about going on with his story. Griff shifted uneasily, not wanting the Pokémon to start weeping again.
“Look, Sirius, if this is too hard for you, you don’t have to tell me any more. I understand. You only need to say what you want to.”
Sirius gave him a long, calculating look.
“No. I – I think I need to talk to someone about this. I think it will help. This is hard, but I’ll see if I can get through this without ...”
He trailed off.
“Well, you know.”
Griff knew all too well.
“The problems began when the effects of the Paralysis started rearing their ugly head. Farrant had heard that Pokémon out by the coast were having problems, and some of my friends at the volcano had told me on recent visits that something was wrong even there.
“Down in the caves, the storms thankfully weren’t too bad. We took supplies down when we saw the clouds on the horizon, and holed ourselves up here until the worst was over. It was like a small adventure for us, and our cave was warm and cozy even as the hurricane waged its war overhead. Many of the trees above died in the high winds and lashing rain, but those trees are hardy, and the ones that did survive quickly budded again once the main storm had passed.
“The rain was good for us. In fact, our stream actually flooded a little on those first few days. There was enough water to have a decent bathe in!
“That first storm was the worst, and the others after that slowly diminished in intensity. It seemed that our problems were over.
“But then something strange started to happen to the water. It started slowly. Over the course of several weeks, the water level in our pool began to drop. It was almost imperceptible at first, but eventually it became clear what was going on.
<The novella continues in the following upload.>
This image is an illustration for a novella, which you can read below. The story is based in the world of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon, making reference to the first games, Red/Blue Rescue Team, and the second games, Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky. No familiarity with these games is required to read this work, and it stands alone.
This story was written barely a month after the death of my partner. It is a sad, bleak work, and one that is very personal to me. It would be easy to hide something like this away, but I think it’s important that art like this is shared. If nothing else, I hope that my experiences here will help others at some point down the line.
Given the circumstances in which it was written, please be advised that this story contains some dark themes that some readers may not be comfortable with. These include reflections on death, intense grief, and personal loss. If you’re feeling fragile right now, for whatever reason, I’d suggest moving on for now, and maybe talking to a friend or family member if you can. You can always come back and read this later, when you’re feeling better. The story will still be here.
Because of the nature of this work, I have not included my usual closing notes. However, you can still find some brief practical information after the final double tilde.
Background music:
<Runaway Faith – TehGuitahHeroe>
~
It started first as a dim awareness of pain. There was a large shard of rock biting into his chest. It wasn’t enough to pierce the skin, but it was an annoyance, and hardly comfortable.
Odd. How did it get there?
The floor he was lying on was hard and cold. Griff languidly tried to shift position to see if the rock could be dislodged, but managed only to further wedge it into his fur. He sighed a little, and stopped short as the breath caught in his throat. There was dust in the air, and the smell of soil, and his mouth was as dry as parchment. He lapsed into a weak fit of coughing.
When the fit had passed, he lay on the cool floor and pondered. It was a odd place to fall asleep, and he couldn’t remember how he –
The coughing fit had helped to wake his mind up from its stupor, and his training took over. He was waking from sleep in a strange and unusual place, and he had no memory of how he had got here. That most likely meant that the sleep was artificial, that he had been forcefully put to sleep during a fight. Even now there could be a fierce battle going on, and he and his colleagues could be in danger!
And yet, it was almost completely silent. All he could hear was a slight whistle, possibly the sound of wind passing a cliff. Something strange was going on here. The Growlithe cautiously opened his eyes.
He was lying on a sizeable ledge of rock in an underground cavern. Several body-lengths in front of him, the ground fell away into a deep, wide ravine that plunged into darkness. On the other side of the fissure was another sizeable ledge, about level with this one. It looked like both ledges had once been part of the same natural cavern, but either some disaster, or the action of running water, had split the cave in two.
The scene was illuminated from above by bright shafts of sunlight. The cavern roof arched high into the gloom over Griff’s head. However, at roughly its highest point, and near the centre of the fissure, the ceiling had collapsed, letting in the light. The collapse looked recent, and explained the dust and the wads of dirt clustered around him.
Suddenly, he remembered what had happened.
He swallowed, trying to clear the dryness from his throat, and yelled as loudly as he could muster. If he was here, then the other Growlithe he had been travelling with might be in danger.
“Growlie!”
It had been another very familiar mission. He and Growlie had been on countless trips out into the depths of the continent in recent months, giving aid and support to those most affected by the darkness descending over the world. This trip was to have been no different.
The world was in chaos. For over a year now, a strange and dangerous poison had been seeping out from across the ocean. It had quickly acquired the name ‘the Paralysis’, thanks in part to descriptions given by Xatu, one of the team’s most important advisors. The name was apt. Within its borders, the Paralysis quite literally stopped time in its tracks for all non-living things. The land inside the region was in a state of perpetual dusk. The natural rhythms of living things were greatly disrupted. Without help, there was not enough light to sustain plant life; crops quickly sickened and died. Rivers stopped flowing, cutting people off from their water supply. And the region around the Paralysis itself snarled up the weather, driving vast and deadly hurricanes into the heart of the continent.
At first, only the team’s base in the port town of Pokémon Square had been affected. But the region had been expanding relentlessly. The worst effects of the Paralysis were slowly spreading throughout the countryside, leaving a trail of panicked and desperate Pokémon in its wake.
Griff was proud to be a part of his team. Team Rangers was by far the largest rescue team on the continent, and had an impressive reputation. Its two leaders, Luke and Stan, had famously stopped the meteor that had threatened the entire world several years previously. Even now, they were right at the source of the Paralysis itself, trying to find a way to stop whatever incredible power was causing it. But they were the only ones there. The rest of the team had been left here, to try and deal with the effects of the disaster and to aid all the local Pokémon as best they could.
Rangers had been forewarned of the Paralysis by Xatu, and had spent considerable time planning for its coming. By making use of plant life and certain clever chemical reactions, it was possible to rig up sources of light above fields of crops and orchards. The light was not enough to keep the plants completely healthy, but it was enough to enable them to bear the food needed to keep people alive. Even the courses of rivers could be changed with effort and manpower.
Teams had been sent out whenever they were available to teach these techniques to those who were in the path of the Paralysis. People were encouraged to use them where possible, but small communities and those in need were helped either back to Pokémon Square, where the pooled resourced of Rangers had allowed a small city to spring up that was valiantly pushing against the darkness, or to move further inland where the effects were less serious.
He and Growlie had been on their way to visit some isolated communities in a remote forested region several days travel from the Square. The journey had been slow and uneventful, but still enjoyable. He and Growlie were fast friends, and Griff always valued the time they spent together. Whenever possible, the two Pokémon tried to work together.
They had been several miles out from the first village when the accident happened. They had been walking slowly through an unusually large clearing in a particularly dense region of the forest. The day had been cool, and there was the smell of spring flowers in the air. As they had reached the middle of the clearing, the ground had lurched underneath them. He remembered that Growlie had shouted something to him, although in the heat of the moment he didn’t hear what the other Pokémon had said. Then, a huge sinkhole had opened in the ground, and the night consumed him.
The rock was still there, pressing into his chest. Griff shook himself, realising that he was in danger of passing out again. The ground was bitterly cold, but lying on it felt strangely comfortable. Right now, sleep seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
Get a grip, Griff! If I don’t move now, I might get myself into more trouble than I already am.
The Growlithe braced himself, and then tried to stand. Little lances of agony rang through his legs, and he collapsed, whining softly. It took a few more, slightly more careful attempts, but eventually Griff was able to stand. He shook the stiffness out of his muscles, and slowly wandered around his side of the cave, trying to get the blood pumping through his system again.
This didn’t bode well. In order for him to get this weak, he must have been passed out on the stone floor for quite some time. That meant that his friend Growlie was either unable to reach him, didn’t know what had happened to him or, worse, was in greater trouble than he was.
Griff stared at the hole in the ceiling of the cavern. That settled it. The sinkhole was far too large for his friend to have escaped unscathed; the Pokémon was too close to him when the hole had opened up. That meant that Growlie must have fallen too.
His eyes crept over to the ravine.
No ...
He walked over to the cliff edge and peered down. The fissure was very deep, extending down further than the faint light from above could penetrate. On impulse, he went and picked up the sharp rock that had woken him from his sleep. He hefted it and threw it into the pit.
Good riddance!
He waited for several seconds, and then several more. Finally, he heard the faintest of splashes as the rock hit water.
I guess the fissure was caused by a river after all.
Still, the hole was very, very deep. Even with water at the bottom, anyone who fell down there wouldn’t have a chance.
He turned and scanned the other side of the cave. With the exception of the mass of soil and grass that had fallen through the sink hole with them, there was no sign that any Pokémon had been there. The dust seemed undisturbed.
At least there’s no blood. I think that would be worse.
As he turned his head to look into the far corner of the cave, a brief spark of light from within the fissure caught his eye. He turned towards it with a start.
The metal eyes of a Lucario badge glinted at him from the darkness.
The team bag was hanging from a spur of rock about ten meters down the other side of the crevasse. It hung open, the Lucario badge seemingly damaged in the fall, but the bag still seemed to be mostly full.
Great. Just great.
The bag was full of all the supplies he needed: food, water and medicines. But it was about as unreachable as if it had been on the moon. The crevasse was far too wide to even consider crossing. He doubted he could leap a quarter of that distance. And even if he could make it across, he would still have to scale ten meters of nearly sheer rock wall in order to reach it.
Fat chance. I was never the climbing type.
Still, that helped answer a question for him, and gave him new resolve. It had been his friend who had carried the bag. The fact that it was on the other side of the ravine clearly meant that Growlie had landed on the other side of the cave. If Growlie had fallen better than he himself had, he might have landed on the ledge without being knocked out. No doubt after trying to rouse him, Growlie would have left the cave in order to try and get to him. No doubt, his friend was already close at hand.
His throat was dry again.
He could idle here and wait for Growlie, but that didn’t sit well with him. He was tired and hungry, and the cave was cold and unwelcoming. He didn’t want to stay here any longer than he had to. Besides, his team training firmly told him to do his best to find his partner and continue the mission, just in case the other member of his party was in danger. Perhaps ...
No. Happy thoughts. He’s fine. Definitely fine.
He tried to quell the rising panic. What he needed now was a job to do to keep his mind off things. The most sensible course of action, he mused, was to try and find his way to the other side of the cave. That was the most likely spot Growlie could have landed, and the best place he could find evidence of where his friend might be. Besides, he could always try to climb down to the team bag from there.
Griff smiled wanly.
The Growlithe turned and walked towards the back of the cave. Thankfully, he was not cut off here. Several passageways intersected with the cavern and led off into the darkness. He chose the largest one, and set off.
It was depressing moving out of the weak sunlight of the cavern but, fortunately, the tunnel wasn’t completely dark. The walls and ceiling were lined in patches with several varieties of luminescent plants and moss that gave off a faint but welcome glow. These plants were ubiquitous in many underground areas on the continent, particularly in deep mystery dungeons. Apparently, these plants extracted energy from minerals and water locked into the rocks themselves, giving off light as a byproduct of chemical reactions. Some plants had taken advantage of this process; a number of carnivorous plants had learned to adjust how much light they gave off, and used occasional bursts of light to lure small insects. However, even the moss was thin and patchy here.
Wonderful. Even the moss doesn’t like this place.
It took some time to get used to the low light, and several times he stepped on sharp rocks that he hadn’t picked out in the gloom, much to his chagrin. Still, the more he walked, the more he found his strength returning. Perhaps he hadn’t been as injured in the fall as he had thought. Granted, he wasn’t bounding along, but he felt that he would be able to walk for some time before having to stop.
The passageway went on a little further, and then promptly divided into two past a heavy basalt outcrop. Griff paused for a moment. There was little to choose between either path, and both still headed away from the cave.
He looked from one to the other, then closed his eyes, spun around and pointed at random. His claw was pointing more towards the lefthand path than the righthand path.
He started along that path, and then caught himself. It would do no good to pick paths at random and get himself lost. He had to be able to find his way back to the cavern in case Growlie did come looking for him. He backtracked a little until he came across a large, loose stone on the passage floor. Taking it, he returned to the junction and carved a large arrow into the moss on the passage wall that pointed back towards the cavern.
There. That should do it.
With that, he headed down the passage.
The passage lead to another split, and then another. On occasion, the passages opened out into small rooms and larger caves. Apparently, this was quite a complicated warren. Perhaps, thought Griff, this had once been a mystery dungeon that had returned to a more natural state after the destruction of the meteor, or perhaps some enterprising rock types had hewn this set of tunnels out of the bedrock years before. Still, this didn’t make his job any easier.
After he had been travelling from some time, it quickly became clear that the route he was taking was only taking him further away from the cavern, and not back towards it. He backtracked, and tried another route, only with the same result. He tried again, and again, and again. Every route he took seemed to take him further away from where he wanted to be.
Eventually, Griff began to feel weariness creeping into him. It was hard to keep time down in the tunnels under the constant light of the glowing moss, but it felt like he must have been searching these tunnels for very many hours. He desperately wanted to keep on searching, but he knew in his heart that it would be futile. He would only put himself in more danger if he pushed himself past his limits.
He could always settle down to rest in the tunnels, but that didn’t seem right. He was angry and frustrated, and the tunnels felt cloying and claustrophobic. Besides, he needed to go to the most likely place he would be found by Growlie. With a heavy heart, he turned around and trudged back to the fissure.
It took some time to make the journey back. On the way, he found himself humming to himself. It was a mostly tuneless rambling, but it helped to keep his spirits up. The trip was mostly uneventful, but on a few occasions he swore that he briefly caught glimpses of shadows and movement from some of the tunnel mouths. He thought at first that there might in fact be other Pokémon in these caves after all, but he ended up putting it down to seeing things in his exhaustion.
Eventually, he made it back to the cavern. It was dark; it must have been night above ground, for no light came through the sinkhole. Moving as close to the fissure as he dared – he felt it important to be in plain sight from the other side of the cavern – he settled down to sleep.
Sleep was slow in coming. In his restlessness, he found himself gazing towards the team bag hanging from its spur on the fissure wall. He was cold, exhausted and hungry, and everything he needed to help himself was hanging just out of his grasp.
His dreams were haunted by stories Luke had once told him, of the man Tantalus who was doomed to stand forever in a pool of water under vines laden with grapes, but unable to ever reach them.
~
He awoke as the light of the sun filtered down through the sinkhole. He felt weak and woozy, but thankfully much less exhausted than he had felt yesterday. He also knew that he was in trouble.
If Growlie had not found him by now, the Growlithe might never do so. He had already gone for at least a day without food and, more importantly, without water. If he didn’t find a source of supplies soon, he would eventually become too weak to keep exploring. If that happened ...
He didn’t dare think would would happen then.
Clearly, his strategy of finding a route to the other side of the crevasse had been a failure. He needed a new plan. After musing on this for a while, it seemed like the only sensible thing to do was to try to hike all the way up to the surface. Surely somewhere in these tunnels there must be an opening above ground!
A voice in his mind told him that it was foolishness, but he kept the hope alive regardless.
With a false cheerfulness, he headed towards the passages leaving the chamber. He chose a different passage this time. Unlike the previous day, he tried to use his wits to achieve his goal. With each split in the path, he looked carefully at his options and chose the path that seemed to rise most steeply, if at all, or where the glowing moss was brightest.
At first, it looked like he was making some progress, but before too long his climb was halted, and all routes plunged downwards once again. Oddly, this served to improve his mood. It was as if the caves themselves were mocking him, and he refused to let some mere rocks grind him down! A number of times, he found passages that rose sharply for some distance, only to falter, or to blocked with rockfalls, or to peter out to nothing. But he kept going. He felt his mood getting brighter, even as he himself got weaker.
After a few hours, he saw his first Pokémon.
He was just returning down another failed passage to the surface. The floor was smooth and free of rubble, and he was moving quietly. At first, he thought he had taken a wrong turning, for in the centre of the cavern ahead was a rock formation that he didn’t recognise. Then, as he watched, the rocks turned towards him and suddenly reared back, startled.
At the sight of him, the Onix turned on its heels and fled.
Odd. Onix are usually confrontational creatures. Why is this one scared of me?
Over the next several hours, Griff occasionally chanced upon several more creatures. Each one turned and fled as soon as they were aware of him. Now that he knew there were other creatures in the caverns, he walked quietly and stealthily whenever he felt the presence of another creature. On a few occasions, he got close enough to one of the fleeing creatures to notice that they looked weak and malnourished.
That makes sense. I’ve found nothing to sustain myself here, and what there is is probably barely enough to feed those who live here. They’re probably terrified of competition.
Still, he kept his guard up, even so. Other Pokémon, even weakened ones, could still be dangerous to him in his weakened state. And who knew if these creatures were afraid of something else in these caverns?
He was contemplating giving up his search for the day when a miracle happened. He was walking down a passageway that was heading downwards once again when he passed into a low, small cave. The light of the moss was dim here, and he could barely see. He walked out into the cave in order to ascertain whether there was any exit.
Then, his claws plunged into a stream.
He whooped with joy, the sound coming out more like a croak than a shout, and plunged his head into the steam. He gulped down a few mouthfuls of the delicious, cool mountain stream before caution stopped him. He remembered that one of the most dangerous things to give someone dying of thirst was easy access to water. Often, they would drink the water so quickly that they would overwhelm their digestive system, cramp and perhaps even pass out. He forced himself to drink slowly.
The water was the most delicious thing he could ever remember tasting.
After some time, feeling much relieved, and with a belly sloshing full of water, he sat on the side of the stream, content. Granted, he was tired and hungry, but now at least the major source of danger to him had been relieved: he had access to clean, fresh water.
He found himself looking down at the stream.
While the effects of the Paralysis were only slowly making themselves felt here, clearly one of the nasty problems was already rearing its ugly head. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the lower level of light in the cave, he could see the stream more clearly. It looked perfectly natural at a glance, but a closer look revealed that the water wasn’t flowing. The stream was frozen in place, a picture postcard of a flowing river, but not actually moving.
More oddly, there was a deep hole right in the centre of the stream where he had drunk the water. As he had drunk from the stream, no water flowed into the gap he had left, resulting in a deep depression ringed by higher water on all sides, much like someone had thrown an invisible ball into the water.
This was the danger of the frozen water. Because it no longer flowed, there was only ever so much water in one place. Use it all up, and you had to find another source of water.
Perhaps I’m not out of the woods just yet. And yet ...
He started, and howled for joy. This time, with water in his belly, the sound came out as a great, joyful cry. For he had found a stream. That stream had at least once flowed down into the system of caves. All he needed to do was to follow the water uphill and, barring it becoming impassible, he would be able to find a route to the surface.
He had water and a way out. Two birds with one stone. The day was looking brighter.
He sat for a moment, and then took another drink for luck. Then, he set out from the cavern, following the stream upwards.
~
He followed the stream for what felt like about an hour. His hunch seemed to be paying off, and the ground kept rising steadily as he travelled. On occasion, he had to leave the stream; sometimes, it climbed ledges too high for him to reach, or flowed through tunnels too low or too narrow for him to pass. However, now that he had a broad direction to travel in, he always managed to find the path again.
The water had filled him with a new energy. He found himself humming again. This wasn’t the grim ditty of the previous day, but a joyful little melody he’d probably picked up from Luke at some point.
He was travelling through a small, narrow cave lined with transparent crystal deposits when he heard a sound up ahead. He stopped his tune and listened intently. His humming had obscured the sound, and he probably would have heard it sooner if he had stayed silent.
You’re forgetting your training, Griff! Don’t get overconfident.
It took him a while to place the sound, since it was so incongruous to the surroundings. It was a deep, slow, bass murmur with undulating rising and falling pitch. It was –
A Pokémon was weeping. And a large one at that.
The sound echoed down the tunnel at the end of the cavern he was traversing, and it sounded like the crying was coming from straight ahead of him. Had the crying come from another direction, he probably would have detoured to take a look and see if he could help. As it was, the Pokémon was almost certainly on the path of the stream. That made sense, after all. The stream was about the only hospitable place in these tunnels.
Still, he had to be careful. He had no idea how the Pokémon would react when they were discovered. Slowly, and as silently as he could, moving low to the ground, Griff stalked towards the exit to the cave.
After what seemed like an eternity, and numerous twists and turns later, he came across the source of the sound.
The tunnel he was travelling through opened into a medium-sized cavern with a high ceiling. The river passed along its righthand edge, opening out into a small, deep pool. The pool had clearly been used for drinking water. On the opposite wall of the cave were a number of small fumaroles. Griff imagined that these steam vents had once kept the cavern hot and comfortable with their dry steam. However, the Paralysis was taking its toll even here. The steam, clearly less affected by the Paralysis than large bodies of water, but affected even so, was slowly rising in little, feeble fits and bursts from the openings in the ground. The small quantity of steam quickly dispersed into the cave as if it had never been.
The cave was bitterly cold, not helped by the large pool of cold water.
But this was not what caught his attention. Sitting close to the fumaroles was possibly the largest Charizard he had ever seen. The creature was hunched over, claws over its eyes, its body wracked with sobs, its chest heaving. The deep bass of its cries filled the chamber with a brooding, desperate melancholy. Hanging around its neck was what looked like a deep blue bandana.
The Charizard sat a short distance from a large, blazing fire. The fire did little to alleviate the chill in the chamber – the space was too large for that – but it did take an edge off the freezing conditions, and helped light the cavern.
Behind the imposing figure were piles and piles of supplies, from apples and other food items to bottles of health drinks, gummis, berries and more besides. Griff felt his mouth instinctively water at the proximity of such a vast quantity of food, and pangs in his stomach suddenly made it clear to him just how hungry he was.
Caution, Griff. Don’t rush in before you know what’s going on.
Beside the large quantity of foodstuffs were a large number of barrels filled with what appeared to be water, although it was hard to tell at this distance. If that was so, then the Charizard was clearly dealing with the Paralysis well. The creature had noticed the problem of drinking from the stream, and had taken steps to make sure that there was access to plenty of water. Alongside this, there were stacks of wood, probably very many trees worth, and huge piles of kindling for the fire. There were enough supplies in this cave to last for months, possibly even a year if the fruit was treated properly.
But clearly something had gone wrong somewhere.
How best to deal with this?
He decided to go for an honest, direct approach. He had no idea how the Charizard would react if startled, and he wanted to make sure that the creature was comfortable with his presence before approaching too closely.
He stepped from the mouth of the tunnel, heading straight out into the cave a little way and directly into the light of the overhanging cave moss. He deliberately scuffed his feet and knocked a few stones loose as he walked. The slight sound of his passage rang through the cave. Any Pokémon as clever as this Charizard would already be clearly aware of his passage.
The Charizard didn’t stir, and it didn’t break off from its weeping.
Griff steeled himself, and walked further into the cavern. The creature must be ignoring him, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A dark voice in his mind told him that he could easily give the creature a wide berth and make off with a good number of supplies, sating his hunger and giving him the energy he needed to finish his journey to the surface.
But he knew that he couldn’t do that. The sadness of the poor Pokémon in front of him tugged at his heart. He felt compassion for the Charizard, and he knew that he had to do something to help. He was of Team Rangers, after all.
He stopped a good distance in front of the Charizard and spoke. He tried to make his voice sound confident and calming, but wasn’t successful. His voice cracked and wavered, and was full of nerves.
“Are – are you alright?”
The Charizard’s breathing slowed, and his sobbing lessened a little.
“Go away.”
The Pokémon’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but full of confidence and dripping with a cold malice.
Griff wouldn’t let himself be perturbed.
“I’m sorry. I was following the stream and I –”
“Get out!”
Griff had no time to react. As he watched, the Charizard expanded his arms and wings outward, and reared his chest upwards. The Pokémon’s body began to glow a deep, ominous red that brightened and brightened to an almost blinding intensity. Then, after barely a second had passed, the brightness coalesced into a tall ring of fire, almost white-hot. The ring hung in the air for a heartbeat, and then sped outwards. All this was done without the Charizard removing the claws from its eyes, or stopping its sobbing.
Griff was consumed by a deep wall of raging flames.
Blast Burn!
But the Growlithe was a fire type, and prepared for such situations. He angled himself into the oncoming fire, and expanded his body size as much as he could. He closed his eyes to protect his vision, and furrowed his brow in concentration. The outer hairs of his fur stood on end, and his skin tingled.
With every ounce of his strength, he focused on the heat energy that was washing over him. He dragged it towards him, and felt the response as the energy was absorbed into the special hairs and follicles of his body. He felt power flooding into him, and the heat of the surrounding flames diminished. He felt ready to pounce and attack, to run and run and keep on running. Seemingly boundless energy coursed through him, feeling almost intoxicating in its intensity.
And then the attack passed. Griff was standing in the cool air again. He had not even been singed by the passing wall of fire, and he felt stronger than ever. This wasn’t something that every Growlithe was able to do, but he had been lucky enough to learn from an early age that he could endure fire attacks this way. Some of his younger friends had had to try to learn the tactic from scratch, and they didn’t always succeed. Members of Rangers referred to the ability to resist fire in this way by the somewhat overwrought term ‘Flash Fire’, although that sounded a little dramatic to him.
He faced the Charizard, prepared for another assault. In a typical Rangers fashion, he erected a small, transparent Protect bubble around himself. It never hurt to be too careful, and the Charizard might have other move types up its sleeve.
But the creature’s posture sagged. It looked exhausted, its energy spent. Its sobbing had stopped, its energy finally spent by the attack.
It was only then that Griff noticed how ill the creature looked. Sure, the creature was large, but its skin, which would usually be bright and shiny, instead took on a dull pallor. Worse, the Charizard’s tail-flame was terribly weak, almost burned out. That was a sure sign that this Pokémon was in a bad way, to put it mildly. No doubt, the incredibly strong attack that he had just endured had only added to the Charizard’s weakness.
He had to do something.
Scattered around the creature were the scattered remains of supplies taken from the pile nearby. There were half-eaten apples, along with cores and other discarded waste. But there were a number of prime supplies within easy reach.
Confident that the Charizard didn’t pose as much of a threat as its huge bulk would imply, Griff walked slowly towards the creature and picked up an apple, huge and red. He was tempted to partake of the fruit himself, but that would only make things worse. He walked right up to the creature, and offered the apple as high up as he could muster. He barely reached above the creature’s knees.
“Look, you seem to be in a bad way. You need to conserve your strength. Please, you need to eat something.”
For a moment, the Charizard ignored him. Then, the creature slowly removed its claws from its eyes, and reached down and delicately plucked the apple from Griff’s extended claw. The Charizard’s eyes were red and shot through with agony. Griff was struck by how old the Pokémon suddenly looked.
The Charizard threw the apple into its mouth and crunched on it, swallowing it whole, core and all. After a moment, the creature breathed a small wisp of fire out of its nostrils towards him, and then proceeded to ignore the Growlithe again.
Well. It’s a start.
Growlithe walked back a step and tried to look the Charizard directly in the eyes. The creature was looking down at the ground, and refused to meet his gaze.
“I’m sure something really bad has happened here. I’m sorry. You must feel awful. And I’m sure you want to be left alone.”
The Charizard didn’t move.
“But I can’t do that. You are really not well, and you’re weak besides. If you get any worse, I’m afraid that you might get into some serious trouble. I am not leaving here until I know what has happened to you, and what I can do to help!”
The Charizard was silent for a moment. Griff stood his ground, glaring at the creature now in a pang of annoyance.
Then, finally, the creature turned to look at him.
“I doubt I’m in any more danger than you, little pup. Why don’t you go and die somewhere else, and leave me be?”
Curiously, the voice didn’t carry the anger he might have expected. It was sad and quiet, and filled with a resigned sense of hopelessness. The creature started idly scratching in the ground with a claw, once again ignoring him.
Griff’s hunger was finally getting the better of him.
“Would you mind if I took a few of your supplies first? I haven’t eaten for days, and I’m not doing so well. It would help me get away from you more quickly ...”
His voice trailed off, a little dry and cynical. But the Charizard didn’t respond, content in making his little dust pictures.
Slowly, and making his intent quite plain, Griff walked towards the piles of supplies. He took several apples from the pile, modest ones that weren’t too large, and an Oran Berry. Then, he returned to sit in front of the Charizard and started eating. He intended to do so slowly and almost reverently, but as soon as the first taste of food hit his mouth, he threw caution to the wind. He wolfed the food down, so violently that he was almost sick. It was good, sweet and nourishing, and juice dribbled down his chin. He was quiet for a few moments, appreciating the feeling of the food slowly making its way into his stomach. For the first time since he had arrived, he finally had everything that he needed.
The two Pokémon sat in silence for some time. The Charizard’s dust pictures grew more elaborate.
Griff started to feel tired. The adrenaline that had kept him going over the past few days was beginning to fade, replaced with the slow energy that was coming from the food. Still, he had to try to find out what was wrong with this Charizard. With all the supplies here, it seemed that he had all the time in the world.
Perhaps a different tactic would work.
“Listen, I was wondering if you would help me with something?”
The Charizard continued idly drawing.
“I fell into this system of caves by accident. But a friend of mine also fell in here. His name is Growlie, another Growlithe. He’s a really good friend of mine, but we lost each other after the fall. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, but I’ve been looking for him for days, and I haven’t seen any sign of him.
“Have you seen another Growlithe like me around here? I really want to find him again, and then I could get out of your hair.”
The Charizard laughed softly, a harsh, bitter laugh that carried no humour in it.
“Good luck with that. You know how many Growlithe there are around here? Trying to find one amongst all of them is a fool’s errand. Get lost, and leave me be.”
Griff stifled a stab of irritation. However, there was also hope in what the Charizard had said. If there were more Pokémon here than he had thought, including Growlithe, then perhaps the caves were more hospitable than they seemed to be. Perhaps he had been unlucky in where he had landed. If Growlie had found a better region of the caves ...
But now was not the time for such thoughts.
“Say, as we’re going to be here for a while, let me introduce myself. My name is Griff. I’m a member of the rescue team Rangers. Maybe you’ve heard of us?”
The Charizard didn’t respond.
“No matter. We do our best to help people whenever we can. Do you remember the meteor that nearly hit last year, that caused the spate of natural disasters and the formation of the mystery dungeons? It was Rangers who destroyed it!
“We’re doing our best now to deal with the problems caused by the slowing down of time. I know you’ve noticed it, and I’m impressed with how you’ve handled it. I can see that you’ve stopped drinking from the pool now that the water has stopped flowing, and that you’ve brought water supplies into the cave instead. Not every Pokémon would do that.
“We call it the Paralysis. It’s a nasty effect that seems to have originated on another continent. We’re doing everything we can both to stop it, and to help those affected.”
People tended to joke that Griff was overly chatty, and that once he got going, he was difficult to stop. The Charizard seemed too weak and tired even to show signs of irritation. He kept on ignoring the Growlithe.
“That’s why Growlie and I came here. There are some villages in the forest above ground, and we were worried that they would be having problems with their plants and crops. In fact, we were concerned that the local trees might die and collapse in the harsh weather, causing injury. But a sinkhole opened before we could reach them, and we fell into these caves.
“You’d like Growlie. I know you would. He had a good heart, and is one of the most loyal Pokémon I have ever known. He’s so energetic and, no matter what happens, he’s always cheerful. I can’t help but smile every time he’s around.
Watch your tongue, Griff. You don’t want to offend this Charizard by accident.
Still, the tiredness was starting to make him nostalgic. It seemed an age since the accident, and somehow he hadn’t really thought too much about what had happened until now. He had needed to keep pushing himself in order to survive, and now that he was comfortable, with food, water and a job to do, he started to feel curiously light-headed. He couldn’t stop thinking of Growlie.
He went on at a tangent.
“He and I grew up on Mount Thunder. It’s a tall mountain some way from here, although I’m sure you will have seen it if you’ve been above ground. It dominates the skyline for miles and miles. It’s a bleak place, filled with twisted, sickly trees and wispy grass, but it was home to us. But there was more than enough food to go around if you knew where to look, and the hostile environment kept us safe. More than that, we were protected.
“Our families, and all those on the mountain, were protected by Zapdos herself! The great bird of lightning claimed the mountain as her own, and she looked after us as if we were all her own relatives. Even when the natural disasters starting hitting the mountain during the fall of the meteor, she did everything she could to protect us and her home.
“I don’t go back there much these days. I miss it.”
He pictured the old family den, nestled by a clump of trees that grew in an elongated diamond shape, the ground rolling gently down towards the thicker forest. It was isolated even from the other Growlithe families, but it was peaceful and homely.
Maybe I should visit the old place again when this is all over.
“Of course, I never knew Growlie when I was growing up. His family lived well around the curve of the mountain from mine, and there was never too much reason to travel away from our homes. We just got on with the process of living. Life was calm, and peaceful, but cloying.
“I longed to leave, and it’s right that I did so, I think. I wasn’t mature enough to appreciate the quiet then, and I’m still not.
“So I was excited when Rangers visited the mountain when I was old enough to search for them. They had come several times before, not least right at the beginning, when the disasters first woke Zapdos. But I had been little then, and the stories that were once doubtful and confused were quickly turning into legends. Luke and Stan seem to have that effect on people.
“The team was visiting trying to recruit more members. Stan had been the first to do this, and ever since, Rangers had been trying to add to its ranks whenever it could. In the aftermath of the damage done by the meteor, there was so much that needed to be done, and so many Pokémon that needed aid, that every hand that could be used was welcome.
“They were travelling the mountain, demonstrating their skill in battle, and their knowledge of the world. They told the story of how they helped end the disasters, too. I went to seek them out as soon as I was old enough.
“I was lucky. It was Luke and Stan themselves who came when I visited! It was amazing. I had heard stories about them for years, and yet here they were, Mudkip and Treecko, on my mountain! I have never seen a team that worked together so well. It was as if they each knew what the other was thinking. They could move as a fluid unit, each one covering the other. They passed attacks from one to the other and back again. It was extraordinary.
“I challenged them to a battle, of course. It seemed only natural. They defeated my attacks easily, as I had expected. But they had been carefully testing my ability, my courage and my skill, lowering their own power and ability to my own level.”
His eyes grew distant.
“I can remember, even now, Luke smiling at me, offering me the team badge. My whole life changed, then.”
As he was musing on the past, almost forgetting the Charizard in front of him, he felt a strange sadness start to wash over him. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but he kept up his story.
“I was the first Pokémon they recruited on the mountain that day. We went together, the three of us, and recruited several others. Most Pokémon had no interest in joining the team, but those few who were more adventurous, or who were tired of the mountain, ended up slowly adding to the team’s ranks.
“As we walked round the mountain, we eventually came across another Growlithe, Growlie. You know, it’s funny. I’ve seen many of my kind in my time, but I’ve not met a Growlithe quite like him. From the first moment we met, I wanted to find out more about him. And he seemed to want to do the same.
“In fact, when he approached the team, he wanted to fight me, not the others.”
Thinking about Growlie was only making the sadness inside him grow. It was like there was a pressure in his chest, struggling to get out. He forced his voice to stay calm and level.
“I won that fight, much to my delight. But somehow, looking back on it, I have the feeling Growlie might have thrown it, after all. Whenever I’ve seen him fight since, he’s always been more confident, more powerful than he seemed on that first occasion.
“Still, it was nice to have another Growlithe around who was about my age, and shared my upbringing. Ever since then, we’ve worked together whenever we can, and we’ve gotten to know each other well. He’s a –”
And here his voice broke.
“He’s a very good friend. We even moved together when we left the mountain, setting up dens on the opposite side of a small hillock in Scorched Plains. You know, it seems like an awfully long time since I’ve done work without him ...”
He felt tears coming, welling up unbidden. The Charizard seemed unmoved, intent on its drawings. No doubt, it was hoping that its impassive behaviour would eventually cause him to get bored and leave.
He knew where the sadness was coming from, now. He had been hiding from the truth since the moment he had awoken here, but deep down he knew what was clawing at him. He couldn’t deny it forever. He voice was shaky, and he felt his legs begin to tremble. He looked down towards the ground, oddly embarrassed.
“When I woke after the fall through the sinkhole, I found myself near the side a deep ravine. It was wide, cutting across an underground chamber. And it was directly under the sinkhole. I must have been moving when the ground collapsed, because the momentum carried me away from the ravine.
“But Growlie ...”
He tried again.
“I saw his bag shortly after I awoke. He had been carrying it while we had been travelling. But now it was hooked onto a ledge some distance below the lip of the chasm. If it was there, well, I –
“I think he’s dead.”
“I only escaped the ravine through chance. I’ve been looking for him since then, holding on to the hope that perhaps he survived, and that he went for help, or landed on the other side of the cavern. Anything. But I’ve done all I can, and he’s not here. He would never abandon me. He must –”
A noise cut him off. He looked up.
The Charizard was weeping again.
The odd change of circumstances checked his grief somewhat. In fact, now that he had voiced his suspicions, he found himself feeling a little better. Besides, there were more important problems here being felt by this poor creature. Whatever had happened, there was nothing he could do about Growlie for the moment.
He wiped his eyes, and walked over to the Charizard. He put his front paws on top of the Charizard’s feet, an old Growlithe symbol of compassion and trust.
“Please. What’s wrong?”
The Charizard’s breath was coming out in fits and bursts now, rasping through the creature’s throat.
Between sobs, the Pokémon managed to get out a single word.
“Farrant!”
Griff was confused.
“Farrant? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
It seemed impossible to comfort a creature of this size, but he tried anyway. He wrapped his body around the Charizard’s shin, giving it as much of a hug as he was capable. Slowly, the creature’s sobs subsided. For a moment, the cave was quiet again.
Griff was about the speak, but he was cut off by a long sigh from the Charizard. The creature looked down at him, eyes still wet.
“You can let go now, you know.”
Griff did so, feeling oddly embarrassed, and stood back, trying to get at a better angle so that he could see the Charizard’s face more clearly.
“You said –”
“Yes. Farrant.”
The Charizard sighed once more.
“Farrant is my partner. Or rather, he was. He’s dead.”
The Charizard’s voice almost broke on that last word, but the creature held its nerve. Griff took a step backwards, dumbstruck for a moment. Then, the words came.
“I’m so, so sorry. That’s awful. I –
“I’m not sure what to say. I can’t imagine how terrible that is.”
A change seemed to come over the Charizard’s eyes, although the creature’s expression was hard to read.
“Perhaps we should try again, little Griff. My name is Sirius.”
So he’s male. It’s so hard to tell the gender of a Charizard most of the time.
Sirius waved his arm around in a faux grand gesture, taking in the whole of the cavern.
“Welcome to my cave. Please, make yourself at home, and please excuse my appearance. It might not look it now, but I usually take better care of myself than this.”
“You have nothing to apologise for. If the person I loved died, I honestly don’t know what I’d do. I probably wouldn’t deal with it as well as you have.”
Sirius snorted in annoyance, but nonetheless seemed thankful for the comment.
“I say that this is my cave. It is now, I suppose. But it’s really his. Farrant’s. He lived here originally.”
Griff sat, attentive, compassion in his eyes.
“I first came here more years ago than I care to remember. I used to live in a cave high up on the slopes of a volcano quite some way north of here. That’s not where I grew up, incidentally. I’m older than I look.”
Sirius tried to feign a laugh, but didn’t really succeed. The sound that came out was faint and miserable, and quickly tapered off.
“I was chafing a little on the volcano, and I had been looking for some new places to find food for some time. Some of my friends had told me of a large forest of fruiting trees some way away. They spoke highly of it, in fact, saying that the area was beautiful and peaceful, and full of welcoming Pokémon. Honestly, I thought they were probably bigging the place up. People tend to do that of places they know well.
“Still, I had some time on my hands, so I set out to see this place for myself. Sure enough, after flying for several hours, I came across a forest that was every bit as beautiful as my friends had said. I think one reason I took to it, actually, was that it reminded me of the small orchards near where I was born, ones that I had visited with my parents.
“But this was no small orchard. The forest stretched for miles in either direction, full of fruiting and non-fruiting trees of all kinds. Although the fruit was clearly being eaten by quite a number of Pokémon, there was still plenty enough just hanging on the trees for the taking.
“I flew above the canopy for a while, taking in the sight. Then, a little clearing caught my eye. It was a good enough size to make for an easy landing, so I circled around and headed towards the clearing. As I was landing, a Pokémon came out of the tree-line ahead of me, watching intently. It was Farrant. Even after all this time, I can still picture him standing there, grin slowly spreading over his face. Somehow, I think he had expected to be disappointed by me, but found himself thinking much the opposite.”
A distant look came over Sirius’s eyes.
“I have always enjoyed flying. There’s a wonderful freedom in it, to soar above the ground, to work with the air, to push yourself into the deep, glorious sky. I know many people who think of it as merely a tool, a simple way of getting quickly from place to place. And that’s true, and not a bad way of thinking of it.
“But that’s not flight to me. Ever since I started flying properly with my peers when I was younger, it’s always fascinated me. There’s art in it, using your body and the constantly changing ebb and flow of the wind, the air temperature, pressure and humidity. In flight, you can express yourself, bring out your emotions. You can fly boldly, or sadly, or gleefully. It all depends on how you let yourself work with the sky.
“I took pleasure that day in the landing. I was being watched, and so I decided to show off. I wanted to look my best, after all. So I banked, checking my speed as I came close to the tree line, rolled back over front and then, carrying the momentum forwards, flipped slowly head over heels. This slowed me enough that I came to a graceful stop on the fragrant grass.
“My art is important to me.
“Farrant stood still for a moment, grinning widely, and then approached. He told me that I was an impressive flyer, much more impressive than most he had seen. He seemed nice, and we chatted for quite some time, although about what I can’t now remember. We started walking through the forest after a while. I mentioned that I was in the area looking for food, and he pointed out some of the interesting local varieties as we walked.
“After some time, I realised that I was probably keeping him from whatever he was doing when I had landed. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to look after me, a stranger in the area. So I made my excuses, and said that I would pick up some of the fruit he had pointed out to me on my way back.
“But Farrant stopped me. He had a way of getting my attention, you know, of standing close to me and rubbing my right elbow. I’ve no idea what he got that from, but it was quite effective. He looked at me, clearly somewhat embarrassed, but bold nonetheless, and said that he hoped I would visit again. He offered to show me the forest properly – provided that I entertained him with some more flying. I laughed. I remember that now. I readily agreed. He was charming, and there was something nice about hearing someone compliment you as consistently as he did.
“We agreed to meet again, and I flew off, doing a slow barrel roll when I was high enough to do so.
“I came back again the following week, and he met me again in the clearing. I arrived earlier, and he showed me his forest, and all its beautiful sights, from the large waterfall that plunged into a huge sinkhole, to the small, nestled clusters of apple trees that were in full, pink blossom at that time of year.
“It was on this second trip that I noticed his interest in me. I noticed it in the body language first, the way he reacted to me in our conversations. He smiled a lot, tried to focus my attention, and was deliberately and quite frequently tactile. He’d take my arm when he wanted to show me something, or touch me on the shoulder when he wanted to ask me a question.
“I wasn’t sure what to think at first. He was charming, but I didn’t really feel the same way. Certainly, he was interesting to talk to, and funny, but we were so very different. He wasn’t, shall we say, my usual fare, nor was he like any of my other friends. Besides, at first, I thought that perhaps he had simply been impressed at my flying from the previous week, and that his attentions would be over before they had begun.
“But still, the situation was interesting. In spite of myself, I found myself liking his company, if only as a friend. We agreed to meet regularly, with my excuse that I would be gathering food for the week ahead, and his that he would help me find the best places to forage.”
Griff sat, staring up at Sirius. The Charizard was lost in the story, now, staring into space. He was probably reliving a series of memories now, playing out the story in his head.
Poor thing.
“I can remember when I changed my mind about him. It seems a strange thing, now that I think about it. This is something I’ve never told anyone, actually, including him.
“One day, I was gathering fruit, and Farrant was helping me as usual. He took a look up at the sun, and suddenly looked worried. Apparently, he had promised to gather fruits for his mother, but it had slipped his mind. He needed to be on his way right away. I was almost finished, so I offered to pack up early and walk with him.
“Curiously, Farrant looked worried at that, and started moving away quickly. He was in too much of a hurry, and he had a few things he needed to sort out in his head as he walked. He suggested that I kept on picking without him, and that we met at our usual time the following week. He turned and darted into the undergrowth.
“It was strange, but then, Farrant was a little unusual. I went back to picking fruit for a few minutes and then, bags full, took to the air.
“However, as I was banking to turn away to the north, but before I had gotten too high, I spotted Farrant below me. He was talking to a male Nuzleaf, who was accompanied by several other Pokémon. It looked like they were friends, and I thought little of it. But clearly he didn’t think the same, for Farrant caught my eye as I passed overhead. He gave me a curious look of guilt as I flew away.
“You know, it’s strange to think that I became interested in someone because of a lie. But it made me curious. Ever since then, I resolved to get to know him more, and see what else he might be hiding.
“It started out innocently enough. We kept meeting, week after week, slowly growing more friendly. We talked more, now, and I took greater interest in what he had to say. I found myself returning his affections, at first with a sense of amusement, and then genuinely. It took me a while to realise that I was falling in love, but somehow we suited each other.
“My visits grew longer, and then I started visiting twice a week, then three times. Before long, he offered to show me these caverns, and his home.”
Sirius look down at him, his voice still trembling, but firm.
“These caverns aren’t much like what they once were, you know. Back before the – what was it? – Paralysis you mentioned, these caves were beautiful. The moss on the walls started dying back months ago, and used to be much brighter. The walls are lined with crystalline deposits, and they used to sparkle in the reflected light of the plants. There was enough light that small flowers used to be able to grow in places.
“When he showed me this cave, something felt very right about the whole thing. The place was perfect, with enough room for the two of us, a source of running water, and heated by the glorious steam from those vents nearby. Yes, the same vents that are spewing pitiful wisps of air now.”
Sirius gestured to the fumaroles in annoyance.
“The place felt like home. Apparently, Farrant had been living here for years, and he was overjoyed that I liked the place so much.
“That was one way in which we were similar. This cave, as you’ve probably found out, is quite isolated. Not many Pokémon live near here, and these caves are somewhat hard to get to. Neither of us were particularly social people, and we liked our privacy and solitude. To both of us, the quietness and seclusion of this place was perfect.
“I put it off for a few weeks, but I finally decided to move in permanently. It seemed only natural, after all. I kept thinking of him when I was away, as apparently he also did, and our time together was so fruitful that it only seemed fair for us to start living together. Besides, his home was far nicer than the one I was living in in the volcano.
“I bid farewell to my friends on the mountain, and spent several days with them making preparations to leave, and holding small parties with those closest to me. Then, I took what I owned, and took flight to my new home.”
Sirius looked around the cavern.
“And what a glorious home it is.”
His voice was a curious mix of pain, sarcasm and genuine affection. Then, he broke into a laugh. It came out better than before, but it was still sad.
“I never did find out what that business with the Nuzleaf was all about. I meant to tell him, but somehow I never quite got around to it.”
Sirius sighed.
“We lived here for years, he and I, and they were some of the happiest times of my life. I have never known anyone so charming as he was to me. He was intelligent, and we shared some of the same interests. He could tell me about the history of Pokémon on the continent, of their ancient cultures and languages. I could tell him of my art of flight, of the nuances of the wind, of the science of heat, ground and water. And his face would light up whenever I entered the room. I could hold his attention, enraptured almost, whenever we were talking, and he held mine.
“He always came across in public as the confident one, but under the surface, he was nervous and unsure of himself. His almost arrogant confidence was, in part, an act. I, on the other hand, let him take the lead among others, but I helped him through his doubts when we were alone, and when he was having difficulties.
“Despite our differences, we were a good couple. I miss him.”
Sirius took a pause for a moment.
“That’s not to say we didn’t have our differences, of course. Sometimes, we needed time alone when things didn’t work out, or when one of us ended up irritated at the other. But those little tiffs always passed, and our love was the stronger for it.”
Sirius looked down, clearly hesitant about going on with his story. Griff shifted uneasily, not wanting the Pokémon to start weeping again.
“Look, Sirius, if this is too hard for you, you don’t have to tell me any more. I understand. You only need to say what you want to.”
Sirius gave him a long, calculating look.
“No. I – I think I need to talk to someone about this. I think it will help. This is hard, but I’ll see if I can get through this without ...”
He trailed off.
“Well, you know.”
Griff knew all too well.
“The problems began when the effects of the Paralysis started rearing their ugly head. Farrant had heard that Pokémon out by the coast were having problems, and some of my friends at the volcano had told me on recent visits that something was wrong even there.
“Down in the caves, the storms thankfully weren’t too bad. We took supplies down when we saw the clouds on the horizon, and holed ourselves up here until the worst was over. It was like a small adventure for us, and our cave was warm and cozy even as the hurricane waged its war overhead. Many of the trees above died in the high winds and lashing rain, but those trees are hardy, and the ones that did survive quickly budded again once the main storm had passed.
“The rain was good for us. In fact, our stream actually flooded a little on those first few days. There was enough water to have a decent bathe in!
“That first storm was the worst, and the others after that slowly diminished in intensity. It seemed that our problems were over.
“But then something strange started to happen to the water. It started slowly. Over the course of several weeks, the water level in our pool began to drop. It was almost imperceptible at first, but eventually it became clear what was going on.
<The novella continues in the following upload.>
Category Story / Fanart
Species Pokemon
Gender Male
Size 2283 x 1614px
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