Fighting 3.12: Echoes
Pixie
January 17, 2020
You lead Skysong back through the field of death. She plods on behind you much slower than normal. You hurry up and the little bell she put on your collar rings loudly. Good. She can move faster and stop dragging her stupid stick behind her. And if she’s annoyed and out of breath then she will not be in the mood to make friends and you will not have to deal with smelly bugs.
You reach the edge of the meadow after passing the scents of five butterfree.
“Haven’t found anything yet?”
“No.” No butterfree. But there’s a sound of howling wind and the scent of ice users nearby. You want to investigate. “There are ice-types nearby. Can I hunt them?”
“Pix,” she groans.
“There may be butterfree in the cave.”
“There aren’t. I know what it is. Come on. Please.”
You walk into the cave with Skysong behind you. Once her footsteps are answered from all sides she stops. “No. Out of the cave.”
“Okay.”
You keep walking forward. Skysong stops and stands strong. “Out. Now.”
A hiss leaves your lips before you can stop it. This is strange for her. Is she finally showing who she really is? Or is she that upset over her stupid rock. You walk forward and the cave rings with the sounds of your bell. “Fine. We’ll come back later. That good? I just want to be back soon in case Noci returns.”
“No. Play!”
You haven’t smelled this many ice users in ages. Not… not since the mountain. You want to explore.
“The Pokémon Center sells frozen blood sticks. I can get you one if you find me more than one butterfree. And then I’ll take you back here tomorrow for as long as you want.”
What. She could have bought you frozen blood at any time? And she didn’t? Why? Do all of the places she stays sell frozen blood? Because now you want one whenever you have to sleep inside. At least one per night. Maybe three.
“Three.”
“One a day for three days? I want you to leave room for real food.”
“One a day always.”
“Pix… I’m sorry, but I don’t have the money.” You can hear her legs crunch up and her voice gets lower to the ground. “When my sister and I got kicked off our mountain, our father sent us to different places. I need money to find her. I’m already spending too much as it is and…” She takes a deep breath. “One a day until we get back on the trail. Final offer.”
Humans keep six. This means that Skysong was in a full litter of nine. One got sick and died. Skysong says it’s her fault. You still don’t understand why. Two were kicked off. Eight out of nine lived. She must have had a very good father.
Still. This is a problem. She wants her stupid rock when it’s gone. She wants her sister back, even if it means making you mad—and you are definitely better than her sister. Skysong won’t settle for what she has. She wants to give love to everyone, like Ho’oilo. It’s a problem that you’ll have to tell her about later.
The wind picks up and you can faintly smell rain on it. You really need to hurry up now.
“Deal.”
It doesn’t take too long to find a smelly bug. They always come out when it rains, and they can sense it coming almost as well as you do. “Found one.”
{Thanks.}
“Hey,” Skysong calls out. “Butterfree. With the big wings and antennae. I can catch you if you want. Take you some place warm with enough food.”
The bug immediately starts flying closer. Weird. Pokémon usually don’t trust humans that much. You certainly didn’t when you first saw one. With good reason, too. They can take you far, far away from home and never let you go back.
“Oh, and I can hear you if you say something. We can talk if you want.”
“Freeeee!” The bug trills.
{I’ll try to let you listen…}
Good. You deserve it. And it makes you trust her a little bit.
“Warm! Where is it warm!” It’s a little garbled and it doesn’t sound much like the stupid bug.
“We have big… caves that are still warm. And nectar we got before the sun went away. I can take you to one.”
“Is there light?”
“There will be, yes. In a few days. We’ll have to move you some place with light first.”
“I remember when there was light everywhere! It wasn’t there when I grew wings. I thought that winged ones just couldn’t see until an older winged one told me what happened.”
Skysong pauses. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”
The butterfree trills in an obnoxiously high pitch. “That’s because you live for ages.”
“I guess. I’m only—actually that probably is a long time for you.”
“Ooooh! How old?”
You snort. You never needed to worry about these things taking your place. There’s no way that Skysong could ever want one of these stupid, smelly bugs.
“Fifteen years. That’s fifteen dry seasons and fifteen wet seasons.”
You can hear the bug’s wingbeats slow as she lands on the ground. “Many generations ago… I’ve never even heard of anyone that old.” She beats her wings again. “Are you sure they let winged ones in to this place? There’s a patch of light nearby but they keep us away. Say it’s for other bugs. I think all of the winged ones should storm it at once: they can’t stop us all if we fly really fast and low to the ground. But the others say that the humans have fire pokémon and they’d still win.”
Maybe. You could easily defeat eighty-one butterfree yourself, even if they did attack all at once. Your ice is stronger than it’s ever been and you can cast it out wide. You flick the nub of your eighth tail. Soon it will become a full tail and then you will grow a ninth and then you will be unstoppable.
“You would have to live in a human-built cave. Just making sure you get that, right?”
Fool. Trying to talk her prey out of being preyed upon. This is why she needs you.
“But it has light and food?”
“Yes.”
“Good!”
Skysong hums, faintly. “Do you know where the big building where people stay is?”
“I think so! It’s near the big water?”
“It is.”
The bug trills again. “I can smell big water! And you make lots of noise.”
“Good. Do you think some of the other winged ones would like to go with me as well?”
“Yes! We all need warm. And food. Many have already…” The bug’s mental voice falters and the physical cries stop. “They needed warm and food.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The bug doesn’t answer. “I’ve also lost family. I want to help you.” She sounds sincere. You remember a pokémon one of your earlier humans told you about. It has big eyes and a fluffy tail. It cries and prey comes closer. Then the tail whips around and it’s actually a giant mouth and it eats whatever wanted to help it. Skysong is like that now, pretending to be something she isn’t so that her prey comes to her.
“I’ll…” Water starts trickling down from the sky. The bug’s scent shifts. “I’ll find others. Bring them to the big water.”
“Thank you.”
On the way back Skysong hums a strange melody. It’s hard to tell with the water falling from the sky washing scents away, but you think she’s leaking salt from her eyes.
*
You’ve just finished your delicious treat when the first bug arrives. Skysong asked you to bark when it happened, and you do it because you’re the best and you deserve at least two of these snacks a day. The door opens and she steps out. “You here to be caught?”
A shrill cry, harsher than the last butterfree’s, answers.
“Alright. Come to my voice. I’ll catch you once I can feel you.”
It takes a lot of restraint to let the bug get that close to your human, but you hold back. Catching these means more money means more treats. And maybe not another ‘sister.’ Maybe. If you just keep eating enough frozen blood than she won’t have money for that and you win.
The bug disappears in a big red flash. Skysong stands still before sighing and turning around with one of her spinning things. “How many more do you think are coming?”
You can hear at least one.
*
The bloodsicle is delicious. Perfectly cold with the iron aftertaste of a good meal. None of the heat of fresh blood, though. You can’t tell if you like that or not. It feels wrong and you don’t get your stomach warmed from the inside. But cold is great. When there’s barely any left you tip over the bowl and roll around in it like it’s the snow you’d make on a hot day. You can clean your fur out later. Vulpix spit is great at getting blood out of fur. Otherwise, you would be pink all the time, which is a terrible color. The color of being dirty. Of being seen. Of being killed or starving.
So much better than food rocks, or even the birds Skysong sometimes burns up on her hot slab. How did you ever live without these?
*
Liar and Skysong are sharing a room. Liar claimed the top beds, but there are still two down low. Eggbreath claimed one entirely for herself because she’s greedy. You let her. This way Skysong is all yours.
“What was the song about?” you ask. Maybe it can be explained. Maybe it can’t. If she is studying your stories, you can at least try to study hers at the same time. If only to see how much worse they are.
“Two things,” she says. Which isn’t an answer. “The world is reborn after it ends. One of the old gods has to sacrifice their life to become the sun and start the world again. The one who was supposed to, he didn’t want to. Couldn’t sacrifice himself for other people he didn’t even know. Another leapt at the chance. Lit himself on fire so that humans could live.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
If it’s true, then he probably didn’t do it for humans. It was for vulpix and ninetales. But it’s not actually how the world started, so it doesn’t matter.
“That’s the first half of the song. The second is about a mother who dies giving birth. Her hopes for her children and…” She sighs and flops down on the bed. You take the opportunity to move from being curled up in her lap to being sprawled across her torso. “And other stuff. Neither of them are sad, the woman or the god. They’d do it again. It’s. I like it.”
You wonder if that’s how your living siblings think about you. Let go for their comfort. Do they think you happily left the mountain to them?
“Fools.”
“What?”
“They aren’t happy about it. Just stuff other people make up to feel less bad.”
She idly scratches your ear. “I… guess.”
Skysong takes a very long time to silently think about your genius. Long enough that you start to wonder if she disagrees.
“It’s just how you justify sending people off your mountains.”
“Off your…” Her paw locks up before coming to rest on her chest. “I guess that’s one way to think about sacrifice.”
Her scent is off. Something is bothering her, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. Humans are like that, sometimes. They won’t shut up until it’s actually important. You knead a paw against her. Your mother used to when she was checking for parasites or wounds. It felt nice. Maybe she’ll like it. At first she jolts a little but then you can feel her muscles relaxing. And you can’t feel any wounds. Or ticks. But since she doesn’t have fur—maybe you should try her head? You get off her chest and walk behind her to try.
She laughs. A good sign? You keep going.
Something lurches and—Eggbreath took your spot. What. Was she awake the whole time?
“Mine,” she growls.
Fine. But she doesn’t know how to groom Skysong. You’re still her favorite.
You’re so sure of it that you can’t even bring yourself to ask her.
However good the moment is it can never last. Skysong’s stomach roars and she shifts awkwardly beneath you. “Guess we should be going out again,” she says. “Still butterfree to catch.”
You’ll allow it. She’s just hunting them. They won’t stick around. This is fine.
You walk Skysong over to the big room with the flickering rat and then out into the wonderful cold. Eggbreath immediately screeches and Claws answers. They run towards each other and start their ‘can I bite harder than you can scratch’ game. You would play and easily win just by breathing cold breath, but then they’d attack you together and you might get their blood on your fur and that’s terrible.
“How many have you caught?” Skysong asks.
“Seventeen butterfree for fifty-nine total,” Liar answers. “Plus, five metapod.” Why is she here with Bloodrage’s stupid bird? And that is far, far too many bugs. Almost seven full sets of tails.
“Metapod?” Skysong asks. “How?”
“Butterfree carried them here. I don’t know if VStar wants them, but maybe the DNR will.”
It takes Skysong a while to answer that one. You take the opportunity to wander off a little bit into the cold. Sure enough there are some patches that need marked over. “Why would the DNR want them?”
“This feels like something they would do, like…” Liar sighs. “All it took was showing one butterfree that we had food and light, and then they all wanted here, right? Why couldn’t the DNR do that? Then they could’ve gone to some conservation facility on the mainland and not just random collectors or whatever.”
“Better collectors than dead.”
“I know that. I just… hate that the pokémon dealers have a point for once.” Liar huffs. “Still think you should quit though.”
Skysong just hums in response. You hear her humming get lower to the ground before she softly settles into the grass near Liar. Since her lap is on the ground you run over to sit in it and get scritches. “Do we need to buy more balls?” she asks. “I don’t think we had that many.”
“I bought them. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.” Her scratches are a little half-hearted. You gently nip her finger so she knows to do better. And she does. After pulling her finger away and flicking your ear. Weakling.
“You know you could’ve traded off with Kekoa a while ago, right?”
“I know. He offered. I just needed to be alone for a bit. And you seemed, um, a little down.”
“Oh.” Her face scratches turn into long, slow strokes down the back. Also fine, but not quite as good. You’ll let her keep doing it for a while. “I’m just worried about Noci. That’s all.”
Liar shifts closer to Skysong, pushing you aside while she embraces your trainer. Rude. “She’s a steel-type. I’m sure she’s fine. Probably just exploring something interesting.”
“Yeah…” Skysong gently leans away and Liar takes the hint to stop crowding you. And you didn’t have to growl at either of them. “And you’re still thinking about the florges.
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Skysong slowly gets up, gently pushing you off her lap as a butterfree approaches. She catches it quickly enough and sits back down, letting you retake your throne. “She just reminded me of something bad that happened a long time ago. That’s all.” The scent of salt fills the air as she says it. Must have been really bad. Kicked-off-a-mountain bad.
This time Skysong scoots closer to Liar. You almost fall off! You don’t whine because you’re a beautiful, irreplaceable fox, but you grumble on the inside. The two stay locked together, irritatingly close, until another butterfree comes.
*
There are metal beams leading into the cave. Otherwise, the humans probably would have spent ages running their hand over a rock to find it. Once you step inside its. It’s wonderful! So, so cold! Like the air coming out of one of their cold storage things, but everywhere! You remember the time that you got into Hummy’s and slept there overnight. This is like that. But maybe better, because it feels so big. And there’s wind. Cold wind. Like the mountain. Wait. How come none of your other humans took you here? You’ve been in the area before. Now you feel cheated.
Skysong’s hold on the leash relaxes and it drops to the ground. She groans and starts lowering herself down beside you. “I think I’ll sit here for a bit. Don’t wander too far.”
You won’t. Probably. She’d be helpless if something attacked her. And maybe she’ll make good bait for something you could eat. For now you sniff around the rocks. No. It isn’t exactly like the mountain. There’s the gargling sound of water that keeps echoing off the walls. You don’t like that. Water messes up your fur. And it smells too much like bats. It’s fine to eat bats, but you wouldn’t want to live around them. They stink. And sometimes they try to bite you. You kill them instantly, of course, but it’s annoying that they try.
You lose track of time wandering around the cave. Nothing ever dares approach you. A few birds fly around nearby but even they back off after you fire a blast of glowing cold at them. You’ve been getting better at it. Soon you will be able to send off pulses of ice or even control the blizzards like a nine-tails can.
You hear strange choking noises coming from Skysong’s direction. Oh no. You rush over and can only hear her heartbeat. “What’s attacking?” you ask. Wait. No. If she’s choking she can’t say it. Except maybe with her mind?
“N-nothing Pix,” she says. “Just worried.”
“About Eyerock?”
“Yeah.” The wind picks up and you can hear her pull the falsefur closer around her. “I’ve lost too many people already. I don’t want to lose another one.”
Oh. That again. You nuzzle her and think of how to introduce this.
“I know a story that might help. Do you want to hear it?”
“Sure,” she says in little more than a breath. “Why not?”
*
Ninetales do not believe that love comes from the heart. Any fox who can hear knows that vulpix hearts start beating well before they are born. The mother does not have to give them blood after that. She does have to breathe for them, give them air. Love comes from the lungs. Sometimes children are born and the mother does not want to let go, wrapping her tether around the neck so they can never breathe on their own. They are choked with their mother’s love.
You are supposed to accept death. Supposed to let go.
There’s a video story that the humans watched on The Sun’s Peak before The Long Night fell. It was about a grass-type human whose heart was too small, so he stole things from children to make up for it. The ninetales have no such story. Instead, they speak of Ho’oilo, a fox who had too much breath to give.
Ho’oilo delivered eight kits. One was choked by her mother’s breath and seven kits remained. Ho’oilo was devastated and vowed that she would never lose another. For three long years she and her mate watched over them at every moment of every day and night. No more fell and the kits began to grow their third tail.
Others on the mountain became aware of this and began to fear she would keep them all and break the ancient laws. They went to the eldest of elders, Voice of the Moon, and pled their case. The eldest calmed them and descended to the territory of Ho’oilo to see the mother for himself. He approached the ninetales and her seven kits and calmed the storms around them.
“Ho’oilo,” he said, “your children have begun to grow their third tail. Have you picked which two you will keep?”
“My lord, voice of the moon, I will keep all of my children.”
The eldest snarled. “The mountain never grows. More ninetales means less food for all. No, you will keep two and only two.”
Her mate bowed his head and lowered his tails to the ground. “Please, oh eldest one, let us keep them within our own territories. The balance need not be upset.”
The eldest pondered this. “Very well,” she said. “When all but two have starved everything will be resolved.”
The parents did not believe her. They had protected seven kits thus far and they could continue to protect and feed their seven.
Word spread quickly of the eldest’s judgment. Others began to obsess over their children’s protection. Soon nearly every pair had many kits. Even older couples joined their territories once more so that they might have another litter.
The ice crabs were the first to go. Then the bats. Then the red birds. Soon almost nothing remained to eat. Some ninetales went down to hunt in the burning heat. Others began to turn on each other, first for hunting territory and then for fresh meat. The whole mountain fell into bloody war as the ninetales hunted each other. Many families found their litters dwindling to one kit or even none at all.
The eldest finally roared with the full power of the moon. All the ninetales that remained went to the peak to speak with him. Some were proud of recent victories and carried their heads high. One was still pink from a recent kill. He dragged his tails behind him while the mother of his victim held back a vicious snarl.
“We must return to the old ways so that we all might live,” the eldest proclaimed. “Only two kits for every pair.” All agreed, for none can argue with the eldest of elders when he speaks on the ancient laws. “All will return to their old territories, but the lands of Ho’olio shall remain forever vacant.”
“Then where shall I go, my lady?” the cursed mother asked. “Where will my children live?”
The elder fanned his tails. She took no pride in what she must do, but this was hers to bare for her part in the bloody war. “Send your children forward to me.”
The kits were nearly grown now. Some had seven, even eight tails. One, the most beloved child of Ho’olio, had grown her ninth but not yet ascended. The eldest stepped forth and took the smallest kit in his jaws like a loving mother reprimanding her child. He dug in his teeth and shook until the corpse stopped moving. The older ones whimpered as they each met the same fate one by one. None dared resist, for none can argue with the eldest of elders when they enforce the ancient laws.
Ho’olio and her mate were spared the elder’s wrath. Ho’olio returned to her territory with the bodies of her children and buried them under the snow. Then she leapt into the deepest crevasse in her lands, which is still known today as The Mother’s Grave. Her mate took the excess vulpix of other parents with him when he left the mountain. No one knows what happened to them next.
All kits are taught the story of Ho’olio, the ninetales who almost choked the whole mountain with a mother’s love.
*
“And you believe that?”
“It’s true.”
“Humans don’t work like that. We can have—”
“You should stop caring about rocks and sisters and—”
“—anyone that isn’t you?”
“Yes.”
She hisses. “Pixie, I like you. Not enough to give up on everyone else. Just—”
“It’s a dumb rock. Ugly. Keeps spying on you.”
“You didn’t hurt her, did you? Or run her off?”
“Maybe I did.” You’re very pretty. And strong. You might have scared her away.
She gets up to her full height, shoving you off of her as she does. “I’m going back to the entrance with Coco. Stay here as long as you want. Stay long enough and I’ll leave. You can follow on your own.”
Fine.
You will.
You sit down on your haunches and bask in the lovely cold air. This is all you need. This is all you ever needed.
“She will never understand that story,” a deep and majestic voice calls out from the dark. From the cave behind you. Where the wind is blowing to, not from. You whirl around and growl as the darkness is pushed back by light. Standing before you is a very old nine-tails. His fur has become shaggy and not quite as white as it should be and there are nicks on his ears. He still holds himself tall.
“Are you why this cave is cold?” you ask. It makes sense. If all the nine-tails can make a cold mountain, one could make a cold cave.
“Yes,” he says. “I am. Although I wander the world more than I stay here.”
“What’s your name?” you ask. All nine-tails are name. You should address him as such.
“Windcaller.” He tilts his head. “Yours?”
You consider calling him the one the humans do. No. That’s embarrassing. Not a real vulpix name. “Sixthborn of Avalanche.”
He continues to regard you with his gorgeous blue eyes. “And you were born on the mountain?”
Oh. He would know what it means that you left. You can’t let him make the wrong guess.
“My mother made a mistake.”
He continues to stare at you unmoving. Almost unblinking. “They all say that.” Then he cranes his neck down and starts grooming the hair at the base of his left front leg. Between licks he continues. “Always the same. Everything is always the same.”
You don’t like being dismissed but. He’s beautiful. You won’t tell him no. Instead, you’ll ask the question he gave you.
“Why won’t she understand?”
He stops licking and looks back towards you. “Because humans live in a world without limits. They see it as good to expand forever because the world can—has—supported it. We only have one mountain. Less than one mountain now that the humans have built at the top. We have limits. Lines we cannot cross. They will never understand why we do the things we do.”
“Why can’t we make more of the land cold? You did it here.” It’s something you’d never thought of before but, now that he says it, why can’t the mountain grow? Its only as cold as it is because of the nine-tails. And now that everything is cold everywhere you can take over everything.
He stares at you for a few breaths before turning away to face the wall of the cave. “They don’t teach their kits anymore, do they?”
“Don’t teach them what?”
“The truth.”
“About what?”
He turns back to you with a maddeningly empty stare. What aren’t you told? Why wouldn’t Avalanche tell you? You were—did she tell the others? Was she planning to leave you the whole time?
“About what?” you ask again.
“I guess it was too hard for them to accept it, so they deny it instead.” He snorts. “How typical.” Something seems to snap him out of his musings and he turns back to you. “It’s too cold for humans. You should go help yours get back home.”
But. “We were fighting.”
He flicks a tail. Annoyance. “At least you can talk to your caretaker. That’s more than most of the rejects get.”
His eyes are stern. He won’t accept your arguments. And you wouldn’t want to argue with him now anyway. He’s a ninetales. Gorgeous, powerful, smart. Perfect.
You turn around and walk towards your idiot trainer. Even if you want to turn back and learn more from the mysterious ninetales who lives free away from the mountain.