CHAPTER 11: ATLAS AND THE WORLD

Eleanor was covered in sweat and sticky silk bits, but the house was finally done.

It was a simple structure.

Their home had a leaning frame made from young sapling wood they'd dragged into a sort of pyramid shape. They lashed it together with Puck's finest silk, tying the limbs and reinforcing the connections between each post. A layer of silk webbing and grass weaving made up the walls. The floor remained sweet grass and clover, for Eleanor could hardly dream of sleeping on anything else by now.

They decorated the outside with flowers and painted it with the juice of berries, inviting neighbors to help. When it was done they held a party with many of their new friends to celebrate. They'd chosen a sheltered spot halfway between the tree line and the Skystone.

The little home was tall enough for Eleanor to stand up in the very middle of it, but she could reach either side of the structure if she held both arms out. It felt cozy and warm, and it would keep the dew off them as they woke each morning.

As they admired their completed work, Puck turned to Eleanor with an excited buzz.

"The Valley is so much larger than Skystone Meadow. I've seen it from up above, and we've only explored a fraction of it."

"That's true," Eleanor could sense where this was going and she felt a similar excitement bubble up inside. "There might be all kinds of things out there. Maybe—"

"Maybe we should go explore?" Puck flew right in her face, cutting her off mid sentence in an enthusiastic rush.

Eleanor laughed, and with a nod they were off, simple as that.

Ancient oaks stretched toward the sky, trunks so wide that Eleanor thought her and all of her cousins from Earth could hold hands and wrap around the trees and still not form a complete circle. Shafts of golden light pierced the dense canopy, creating shifting patterns on the forest floor. Moss-covered stones and gnarled roots formed natural steps that wound between the massive trunks.

"Look at these!" Puck darted between patches of tiny blue flowers that seemed to glow in the dappled light. "They're like little stars."

Eleanor bent to examine them closer.

"They almost look like they're made of glass."

A distant sound caught their attention. It was the thunder of water crashing against rocks. As they followed the sound, the air grew cooler and carried a fresh, mineral scent. The roar grew louder until they rounded a massive oak and stopped short.

A waterfall cascaded down from the mountain ridges far above. It thundered over dark stone into a wide, circular pool; to large to call a pond yet too small to call a lake. The water was crystal clear yet seemed to have no bottom, its depths fading into an impossible darkness. Tiny lights, like suspended stars, twinkled far below the surface.

Cold mist soon made Eleanor's hair stick to her neck. She belted out a laugh when she saw how Puck's fuzz had become drenched, giving him the appearance of a soaked cotton ball.

"Stop laughing!" Puck whined, shaking himself like a dog. He landed on her shoulder and started preening his wings. "I can't help it. Its just because I'm so soft. Anyway, I want to see what those water lights are."

"Alright, lets get a bit closer."

She picked her way carefully down slick, mossy stones until she reached the edge of the large pool. A twinge of fear made her hesitate.

"We can always leave." Puck looked at her perceptively.

That cemented it.

Eleanor wouldn't hold Puck back just because she was being a baby about water. He'd wanted to explore, so she would help him explore. Slowly Eleanor lowered herself onto her belly and wiggled the last few feet. With a measured breath Eleanor peered over the edge of the shore and down into the pool below.

It was impossibly deep, stretching what had to be a hundred feet or more. Surprisingly, the shoreline of the pool seemed to drop off almost instantly, as if someone had punched a great hole straight into the earth, which the waterfall had filled all the way to the brim with crystal blue water.

The water was so perfectly clear that you could see through almost as far as the sunlight carried. Eleanor gasped, leaning closer to the surface and squinting in disbelief.

Maybe eighty feet or more below the surface was the facade of a sunken building. Arching windows and graceful parapets, topped with sloping tiled roofs, stretched even further into the depths. Bridges and walkways decorated with intricate rails spanned across the pond, hinting at even more structures beyond the edges of her sight.

Everything was painted a different shade of blue by the depth of the water, but Eleanor had the distinct impression the sunken city would have been gaily painted above the water.

Schools of fish swam in abundance, some nearer to the surface than others. There were many of those delicious red ones with the long yellow whiskers, and some with delicate fins like wings. There were jellyfish of many shapes and colors, floating in unhurried schools, and long grey catfish with bright blue whiskers. And finally there were other fish that had fat, blue bodies and glowing antennae sticking out of their heads. It was this last kind of fish that were causing most of the twinkling lights they'd witnessed from far above.

"It's a city," Eleanor whispered in wonder.

"That's a city?! I thought they were tall! And less wet."

Eleanor might have responded, but all at once she noticed that one of the glowing fish was ascending rapidly, heading straight towards them. Eleanor scrambled back from the surface, standing quickly just as the creature breeched the water.

It brought a wave of icy cold droplets that landed on her toes, and she took another step back in fright.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that!"

"Ah!" Eleanor nearly fell backwards in shock. "You talked!"

"Course I talked."

"But you're a fish!"

"Why wouldn't fish talk? More importantly, how can you talk? No, no, we're getting off the subject. Are you perhaps a human?"

Eleanor nodded dumbly, and Puck buzzed down to fill the space between her and the glowing, blue fish.

"Her name is Eleanor and she's a Child of the Valley," Puck said defensively.

They'd been through this routine many times, by now. Most residents seemed alarmed by the presence of a human in their midst, which seemed to offend Puck deeply.

"We live here. We passed the Sisters' tests—"

"But you're human?" It waved it's long glow-stalk at her insistently.

"Uh, yes. I-I'm a human."

"Can you come back in a week? Only, its been generations and the school is Withering. I've told the Elders, but no one believes me. I've even begged the Highhoof about bringing a few fresh ones in our midst, but no one can agree on outsiders coming to the Valley, least of all trained Pokemon. I've tried bringing up those that Withered as proof, but seeing as they're Hollows now they won't surface and nobody seems to believe it without seeing it for themselves. I was going to insist on it this Harvestmeet, but if you're a human and you're here, then we won't need to wait at all!"

Eleanor and Puck stared blankly at each other before they slowly regarded the fish like one might a very crazy person.

"I'm sorry," she confessed, "but I have no idea what you just said."

Puck seemed to focus on the beginning of its rant. "You want us to come back in a week?"

"Yes, yes. She's a human and we might have the Withering. You'll return?"

Eleanor felt like she was missing too much of this conversation to understand what it was asking of her, but it seemed like it needed help.

"If I come back—"

It perked up visibly and Eleanor's misgivings grew.

"If I come back, you won't splash me or make me get in the water or anything like that? Because I won't get into the water." Eleanor had no idea what the fish was planning, but as long agreed to her rules, she imagined that coming back wouldn't be too dangerous.

It titled its head, seeming to consider these terms, before it nodded.

"Yea', alright. We can do it on the shoreline. Don't need all your bits in the water, just your hands, and maybe for a while, at that."

"My…hands?"

"Eleanor," Puck flew next to her ear and whispered anxiously. "I don't think we should come back. I don't like it, what does he mean by 'withering'?"

"I'm sorry, but I really don't—"

"Come back in a week, when the sun rests at the top of the waterfall. I'll have everyone gathered for ya'. Ta!" With that, the fish retreated into the blue depths with a splash.

Eleanor and Puck stood there, trying to speak and both at a loss for words.

"Lets keep exploring," Puck said eventually.

They left the waterfall and its strange pool behind, following a worn trail through the brush until the sound of the crashing water grew distant behind them.

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After a long hour of dwelling on the bizarre underwater city, Eleanor had enough of their circular discussion about the encounter. The fish hadn't explained enough to make sense, other than it had seemed clearly distressed and was asking for their help. They'd argued back and forth, until their ideas became too scary or ridiculous to be taken seriously.

Eleanor and Puck decided to return to the pond at the agreed upon time, and left the puzzle behind them.

Eleanor's eyes lit up as they rounded another bend in the path. Ancient stone pillars rose from thick moss, their surfaces etched with strange symbols that almost seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight.

"Look at these markings!" She traced her fingers over the worn carvings. "They're like nothing I've ever seen."

"Maybe they're just decorations," Puck suggested, hovering near a particularly intricate spiral pattern. "Like how you decorated our shelter with flowers."

"No, these are too precise." Eleanor shook her head. "See how they repeat? It's definitely writing. I don't think I'm the first human who's been here." Her voice shook with excitement.

"How can you be sure?"

"When have we ever seen Pokemon build cities like the one under the waterfall? Or write things down like this?" Eleanor turned to him, convinced she was right the more she thought about it.

"But all the Pokemon keep telling you that you're the first human here. Why would they all lie about that?"

"Maybe it happened before they were alive!" Eleanor spread her arms wide, running further into the ruined structure. Standing at the center of it she could see the impression of a large, temple like building in the way the pillars and crumbling walls had fallen. "Pokemon don't make buildings like this!"

"Well," Puck's seemed to fidget with uncertainty. "Maybe…Maybe Pokemon can do things you've never seen before."

"But a city, Puck? A building?"

"Your dress!" Puck suddenly exclaimed. "The Pokemon in the weald wove you that first dress, remember? And you kept saying how you 'didn't know that Pokemon could make textures'—"

"Textiles."

"—Textiles, and how you thought that was only something that humans did'!" Puck looked at her victoriously.

Eleanor frowned, staring off into the canopy, arms slowly lowering as she considered his argument.

Puck did have a point about the dress. Just because she hadn't watched the Pokemon build cities before, it didn't mean they couldn't. Ever since she'd arrived on the Forest World, she'd fallen into the trap of comparing Pokemon to the animals back on Earth. How many times had she already been proven wrong about that?

Perhaps Puck was right. Animals wouldn't have been capable of creating organized ruins like the ones they'd been finding, but Pokemon…

Eleanor quietly moved to examine another pillar. This one had partially collapsed, revealing more symbols on its inner surface. She brushed away some moss. Some spark of hidden excitement slowly faded deep inside. It had been so thrilling to think she had discovered ancient ruins. Like a Hardy Boys book, or an Indiana Jones movie. She'd felt like a real adventurer for a moment.

Puck hung back, letting her wander ahead. He seemed to regret the argument he'd made.

"Sorry," his voice sounded particularly tiny. "I didn't mean—"

"No, you're right." Eleanor couldn't explain why she felt so disappointed. "A good scientist doesn't rule out ideas without all the facts."

"Are we scientists?"

Eleanor laughed, her melancholy fading just as quick as it had arrived.

"No. I suppose if anything, we're explorers."

They continued their walk, finding more ruins scattered through the forest. Stone archways emerged from tangles of vines, and fragments of what might have been buildings peeked through the underbrush. Everything was worn smooth by time, yet retained an undeniable sense of purpose in its construction.

The path opened into a circular clearing, and Eleanor stopped short. Across the clearing was a clear divide. The trees they emerged from were warm and green, a verdant old growth forest that had already become familiar landscape. On the other side of the clearing a different wood grew, in shades of deepest purple and olive green.

The woodland they'd emerged from carried a welcoming, protective atmosphere, but the trees before them radiated an undeniable strangeness.

Unfamiliar flowers grew in perfect concentric rings, their petals an impossible shade of blue-white that seemed to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect it. The blooms swayed despite the complete absence of wind.

The branches overhead crowded out the sun, casting the ground below in shadow and darkness. From the paths between the trees mushrooms flourished, glowing in pinks and greens and whites and yellows, until the forest in front of them didn't resemble a forest at all, but a neon-lit boulevard.

Puck drifted down until he settled on her shoulder, hiding in the crook of her neck.

They stood at the threshold of this abrupt shift in the landscape, once again lost for words. Eleanor went to take a step forward, keen to explore this alien habitat, when Puck gripped her shoulder so hard it pinched.

"Ow!"

"Wait," his voice cracked. Puck's usual pink glow shifted to a sickly yellow and Eleanor stared at him in confusion.

"Puck?"

"Maybe we should go back," he whispered.

The flowers were beautiful, yet wholly unlike anything else they'd seen in the Valley. Eleanor looked ahead, trying to sense whatever danger Puck found, but the colorful woods were still and silent.

The mushrooms were perhaps the strangest feature, but they weren't ominous. Their stems curved at precise angles, creating geometric patterns that nature shouldn't form. The shapes of the leaves on branches overhead appeared almost crystalline, like fragments of starlight frozen in organic form.

Eleanor took a hesitant step forward. The ground felt oddly springy beneath her feet, as if something lay coiled beneath the surface. Dark vines with thorns like curved glass wrapped around the bases of the flowers, forming intricate lattices that reminded her of the sunken city's architecture.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

On the far side of the clearing stood a single plant unlike the others, just beyond the alien tree line, reaching towards Eleanor in a most inviting manner. Its stalk rose nearly as tall as her, crowned with a closed bud larger than her head. The surface appeared to pulse with a faint inner light.

"Eleanor..." Puck's voice trembled.

Eleanor slowly approached it, mesmerized by its unique appearance. She reached toward the central flower, fingers almost brushing its surface. The air grew thick with an odd sweetness that made her head swim.

A whisper of movement caught her eye. Tiny lights, no larger than fireflies, darted between the trees. They moved with purpose, weaving complex patterns through the air. Eleanor blinked, trying to focus on them, but they seemed to fade whenever she looked directly at their dance.

For a moment, she could have sworn she saw tiny faces in their glow.

"Eleanor!" Puck's whole body was wracked with tremors. Eleanor reached up and grabbed him, cradling his terrified form in her palms.

"Sorry, sorry, I was just curious. We can leave, Puck. I didn't mean to scare you."

Eleanor gave one last glance at the curious purple woods and turned away, walking down a separate path that led further into the Valley once more.

Puck seemed to settle the further their walk carried them away from the weird trees. Eventually their laughter and conversation resumed, the two adventurers moving on towards the next discovery.

Through the strange forest behind them, many luminous eyes tracked their departure.

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Eleanor and Puck followed a winding trail deeper into the Valley. Crystal drops of water sparkled on spiderwebs strung between branches, and songs echoed through the canopy above. As they walked, the air grew thick with an electric charge that made Eleanor's braids stand slightly on end.

"Do you feel that?" She rubbed her arms where goosebumps had formed.

"Like static before a storm." Puck's glow shifted from pink to a curious violet.

The trail opened into a grove where massive trees stretched toward the sky, their bark darker than any Eleanor had seen before. Blue-white sparks danced between their branches, crackling and snapping like tiny lightning bolts. The air smelled sharp and clean, like the moment after a thunderclap.

"Look!" Eleanor pointed to a cluster of round yellow Pokémon bouncing between the charged branches. Their cheeks sparked in harmony with the trees as they chattered and played.

"Pikachu," Puck whispered. "They're making the trees spark."

Eleanor crept closer to the nearest trunk, drawn by the mesmerizing display. The bark felt warm beneath her palm, thrumming with energy. Small arcs of electricity jumped between her spread fingers, tickling but not hurting.

"Careful." Despite his warning, Puck hovered near her shoulder, fascinated.

Above them, more electric Pokémon emerged — some small and round, others sleek and quick. They moved through the charged canopy like fish through water, their bodies trailing sparks. The entire grove pulsed with their combined energy, creating patterns of light that danced across the forest floor.

"It's beautiful," Eleanor breathed. She found a sheltered spot as near the sparking forest as she dared and began unpacking their bedrolls. "Can we camp here tonight?"

"The electricity seems safe. And the Pokémon don't seem to mind us." Puck darted around the space, checking for danger before nodding.

They settled in as dusk approached, the natural light show growing more spectacular in the growing darkness. Eleanor lay back on her bedroll, watching the endless dance of sparks while Puck's gentle pink glow bathed their camp in warmth.

The next morning, dawn painted the electric forest in soft pastels, the sparks fading as morning light filtered through the leaves. Eleanor stretched, her hair standing slightly on end from the lingering static.

"Your hair looks crazy," Puck giggled, his glow shifting to match the sunrise.

"You're one to talk."

Puck's entire body was puffed outward like he'd been rubbed against a balloon, until his striped fuzz stuck straight out at every angle, making him look twice as large as he normally did. Faint blue arcs of electricity danced across the surface of his wispy fur.

Eleanor poked him and jumped when a spark of electricity jumped between them, jolting her finger with a pinch. Puck giggled and chased her around for a while.

Eventually they ate the berries they'd brought and packed their beds, following a path that led downhill. They walked all morning, taking a leisurely approach to their exploration. The charged air gave way to something cooler, damper. The ground sloped gently until the trees thinned, opening to a vast expanse that took Eleanor's breath away.

Dozens of perfectly round pools dotted the landscape, their surfaces so still they looked like mirrors scattered across the hillside. Lilypads floated between earth and reflection, creating the illusion of being suspended in mid-air.

"Are those clouds below us?" Eleanor knelt beside the nearest pool, dizzy from the perfect reflection.

"It's just water." Puck drifted lower. He touched the pond with a tiny leg, sending ripples across the mirrored surface.

Eleanor moved between the pools, each one offering a different slice of sky. In some, clouds drifted past. In others, the morning sun fractured into rainbow patterns.

"The flowers only bloom at noon," a friendly local with a head like a Lilypad explained, reclining in one of the pools. "When the sun hits straight down, you can't tell which way is up anymore."

Eleanor sat cross-legged between two pools, watching the real and reflected worlds merge. After the crackling energy of the electric forest, the stillness here felt like a held breath.

"It's like the whole Valley is showing off," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace.

They spent the day exploring the steppes, discovering how each pool reflected the sky differently. As evening approached, they made camp on a dry patch between three mirror pools, their small fire creating a triangle of warmth reflected in each pool's surface.

Puck said nothing when Eleanor cried as the stars emerged.

He fluttered close until the two clung to each other, comfort passing between the thrumming bond they shared. The stars reflected beneath them creating an infinite cosmos in which the two were suspended, as if they'd gone for a flight in outer space. The view had a powerful affect on her, and Puck hugged her gently until long after her tears had dried.

The final day brought the discovery of a large cave system near one of the edges of the Valley. Eleanor traced her fingers along the cave wall, following a vein of crystal that glowed with its own inner light. The stone felt cool and smooth beneath her touch, humming with a faint vibration she couldn't explain. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, each drop creating overlapping echoes that made it impossible to tell distance or direction.

"Look at this." Her whisper bounced off the walls. A cluster of crystals jutted from the ceiling, their facets catching and splitting what little light filtered in from the entrance.

Puck's natural glow reflected off countless crystal faces, multiplying his pink radiance into a constellation of points.

"The whole cave is singing." His antennae twitched, picking up something her ears couldn't.

He was right.

Beyond the dripping water, a subtle tone resonated through the stone. It reminded Eleanor of running a wet finger around the rim of a glass, but deeper, more primal.

They ventured further in, following the crystal veins. The passage widened into a chamber where underground streams had carved smooth channels into the floor. Clear water flowed through these natural gutters, carrying specks of light that might have been minerals or might have been something else entirely.

A movement caught Eleanor's eye. In an alcove above the water channels, a cluster of rocky Pokémon hung from the ceiling like chandeliers. Their bodies rumbled softly as they swayed, adding to the cave's strange music.

"Wow," Puck said softly, huddling closer to Eleanor.

Eleanor found a dry ledge near the cave's mouth where they could make camp. The entrance framed a perfect view of the emerging stars, while behind them, the crystal cave continued its eternal song. She spread their bedrolls on the smooth stone as Puck arranged their supplies.

"It's like sleeping in a geode," she mused, watching starlight and crystal-glow paint patterns on the walls.

Morning light filtered through the crystal cave's entrance, painting rainbow patterns across Eleanor's face. She stretched, careful not to disturb Puck who dozed on her shoulder.

"Time to head home?" His glow shifted from sleepy blue to a warm pink as he stirred.

"Yeah. I miss our meadow."

They packed their few belongings and started the journey back. The cave's song followed them out, growing fainter with each step until only memory of the stone's music remained.

Near the mirror pools, they passed a group of Lotad learning to balance water droplets on their heads. Eleanor waved, looking wistfully out on the mirrored steppes.

"Those pools were amazing at midnight. Remember how the stars looked like they went on forever?"

"I liked the electric forest better." Puck performed a loop-de-loop. "The way the Pikachu danced in the branches."

"You just liked how my hair stood up."

"Maybe." His giggle chimed like tiny bells.

They crossed a stream where crystal-clear water bubbled over smooth stones. A Froakie demonstrated its jumping technique to younger ones, each leap creating perfect ripples.

"Everything here feels like magic," Eleanor said, watching the practice session.

"It is magic. Different from your world's magic probably, but still magic."

"Earth doesn't have any magic."

Puck stopped short at this and Eleanor was forced to stop too or leave him behind. She looked over her shoulder, watching him process.

"None at all?" His voice was barely a whisper, and his light had shifted to the deepest of blues.

Eleanor swallowed, looking down. Slowly she began to walk again and Puck drifted after her.

"On Earth," she began, "my Mom's people had lots of stories. Some of those stories had magic in them. When I was little I was so excited by the thought of men who could grow wings and fly like birds, or people who could talk to coyotes, or who ran so fast they caught up with the sun.

"Then I got older and I began to learn that most of those stories contained things that might not have happened, and I felt so sad. Dad used to say that the C'ulquim used 'symbolism' to teach important lessons. It really annoyed Mom when he talked like that."

Eleanor kicked a pebble on the path, lost in unpleasant memories.

Mom had been a scientist in her own way, having gone on to finish her degree and return to the Reservation as a Preservation Specialist, but she wasn't anything like Dad.

Dad had been a scholar. His devotion to the fundamental sciences that explained their universe had bordered on zealotry. Eleanor was old enough now to realize that Mom probably didn't actually believe their tribal legends. But just because Mom hadn't believed in the C'ulquim legends, that didn't stop her and Dad from arguing about it all the time.

Heated discussions about separating fact from fiction had crackled with an underlying tension that little Eleanor had never understood at the time. It probably all came back to the dismissive way Dad treated most things that weren't 'empirical facts'. As she'd grown older and Dad had been gone more than he'd been around, Eleanor struggled to recapture the innocent belief she'd once held as a child.

It didn't help that the few years she'd gone to a public school (before it got bad enough that Mom had pulled her out) she'd been teased mercilessly about being a 'baby' who believed in 'fairy tales'. Never mind that all those kids who'd mocked her still believed in fat men who snuck into houses to leave presents, fairies that stole teeth under pillows, and giant man-sized bunnies obsessed with candy.

The thought made her snort.

Any one of those kids would eat their words after spending two minutes in the Valley.

She looked over at Puck who'd gone quiet at her shift in mood. A smile started blooming as she considered him, growing until she felt like her whole face hurt from grinning so hard.

"I like it."

"Like what?" Puck tilted his whole head, blinking.

"The magic here. It makes me happy. All the things we've seen together and all the Pokemon, it's just…" She struggled to put it into words, how incredible her life had become ever since she'd woken up in this place. "I still want to go home. I have to go home. Mom must be so worried, and Uncle Ben and all my family… but that doesn't mean I hate it here.

"This place is like a dream, Puck. I keep finding incredible, wonderful things. Things I think my people would have told stories about, like the stories I loved growing up. And there's you, of course."

"Me?" Puck said coyly.

Eleanor giggled and made to shove him gently.

"I've never had a friend like you Puck. You're pretty magical too. I'm glad we're together."

They walked in companionable silence after that, ready to be done with their journey and return to their meadow home.

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A melodic hum drifted through the late afternoon air as Eleanor and Puck made their way along the familiar path back to Skystone Meadow. The tune was surprisingly jaunty, carrying clearly through the peaceful forest.

"Do you hear that?" Eleanor paused, tilting her head.

"Sounds happy."

They followed the cheerful humming around a massive oak tree where twisted roots created natural archways. There, wedged firmly between two thick roots, they found a Grubbin contentedly humming his song.

"Oh no." Eleanor dropped to her knees beside the trapped Pokemon. "Are you stuck?"

The Grubbin's humming tapered off.

"Indeed I am. Going on three days now."

"Three days?!" Eleanor's eyes widened. "That's terrible! Why didn't you call for help?!"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother anyone." The Grubbin's mandibles clicked thoughtfully. "Besides, it's given me time to properly appreciate these fascinating root patterns. Did you notice how they create a perfect spiral where they meet?"

Eleanor stared at him.

"But... but you're stuck."

"Yes, quite thoroughly." He wiggled slightly to demonstrate. "Though I must say, the view of the forest floor from this angle is rather enlightening. I've counted seven different species of moss."

Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows that danced across the peaceful scene. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of nearby wildflowers.

"Puck, help me figure out how to get him loose." Eleanor examined the roots. "This has to be painful."

"Actually, I've found it rather interesting," the Grubbin replied. "The bark has a lovely texture. And yesterday, a family of Pidoves built a nest just above me. Delightful conversation partners."

Eleanor circled the oak, studying the twisted roots from every angle. The Grubbin's considerable midsection was wedged firmly between two thick roots, with barely enough room to wiggle.

"If I pull here—" She gripped the smaller root giving it an experimental tug, but it was much sturdier than it looked.

"Fascinating how problems appear different from different perspectives." The Grubbin watched her work with serene interest. "Much like these roots. From above they seem chaotic, but from here I can see their perfect symmetry."

Eleanor decided to try tugging him free instead of moving the roots. She climbed over until she was straddling the rotund, grub-like insect. With gentle hands she grabbed him firmly round the middle. Eleanor threw herself into a heave, leaning all her weight back, but the Pokemon didn't budge. She tried again, before pausing for breath, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"Puck, can you create a silk line? Maybe we can make a harness."

"The nature of assistance is profound." The Grubbin clicked thoughtfully as Puck wove sticky strands around his midsection. "One moment we're trapped, the next we're lifted by unexpected kindness."

Eleanor braced her feet against the oak's trunk.

"Ready? On three..."

"Though one might question whether being 'trapped' is merely a state of mind—"

"One... two... three!"

Eleanor pulled while Puck flew upward, his silk strand going taut. The Grubbin shifted slightly.

"Oh, wow. This feels so strange. Maybe you should try it next, to see? This has been a day for new experiences." He wiggled experimentally. "Rather like that time I discovered a patch of fermented berries. Which, now that I think about it, may have contributed to my current situation."

Eleanor paused mid-pull.

"What did you say? Are you telling me you're stuck because you ate too many fermented berries?"

"The path seemed much wider three days ago." The Grubbin's fat body twitched. "Though I've found being wedged here has provided an excellent opportunity for meditation."

Eleanor and Puck shared a look of perfect disbelief.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she muttered, returning to the work of pulling him out.

With one final coordinated effort, the insect popped free with a sound like a cork popping out of a bottle. The Grubbin tumbled onto a bed of moss, looking entirely unperturbed.

"Ah, that does feel much nicer. Certainly easier to breathe." He stretched contentedly. "Though I must say, I rather enjoyed my temporary home. The acoustics were exceptional for humming."

Eleanor cradled the Grubbin in her arms, noticing the rough, bleeding patches where his skin had been rubbed raw by the roots. She stood up and began carrying him home, intent on making sure he was healthy. Eleanor wasn't quite sure what to do for him, but it felt wrong to just leave him.

Oh. Lyrii.

Eleanor relaxed, pace growing quicker as she trotted towards the meadow.

Lyrii would know what to do.

As they walked home through patches of late afternoon sunlight, his rounded body settled comfortably in her arms, surprisingly warm against her skin.

"The world looks different from up here." The Grubbin peered around with interest. "Though I suppose perspective is relative. To a Joltik, I must seem impossibly tall."

"You think about strange things." Eleanor adjusted her grip as they crossed a fallen log.

"Do I? I find it strange not to think about them. Like names, for instance. What makes a name suit its owner? Is it the sound, the meaning, or simply that someone chose it for them?"

"I don't know. When I named Puck, it just felt right."

"Ah, the art of naming! Did you know some cultures believe names hold power? That knowing something's true name gives you insight into its nature?"

They emerged into Skystone Meadow, where wildflowers nodded in the breeze. Eleanor set the Grubbin down on a patch of clover.

"Puck, could you go get Lyrii? Let her know we found someone who might need help."

Puck zipped away, leaving Eleanor with their philosophical friend.

"Speaking of names," the Grubbin mused, "I've always wondered what mine might be. Something that captures the essence of contemplation, perhaps?"

"You don't have a name?"

"Oh, I'm sure I did once. But three days of root-gazing tends to put things in perspective. Makes you question whether yesterday's name still fits today's being."

Eleanor stretched out in the grass beside him.

"You want to change your name? That's…different."

He didn't respond. He just lay there, gazing at her with an odd intensity. Eleanor shifted uncomfortably, looking for something to say that wouldn't sound rude.

"Do you…" She trailed off. It was hard to tell on such a non-human face, but she got the distinct impression that he was hanging on her every word. "Do you want help picking a name?"

"Excellent idea! You go first, then I'll name you next."

Eleanor snorted a laugh.

"I like my name fine, thanks. But if you need help picking one… Hmm…" Eleanor thought about the position she'd found him in, wedged underneath those roots like the whole tree had been on top of him.

Root?

No, that felt uninspired.

She thought about names that might have to do with trees and roots and all kinds of nature things, but each one of them felt too girly or too silly to suggest out loud. Maybe I ought to pick a name about getting drunk on berries, she thought with humor.

Dionysus?

That made her mind think of other Greek gods until she felt a stroke of inspiration.

"How about Atlas?" Eleanor looked over at him, gaging his reaction.

"Atlas? I've never heard that name before. What does it mean?"

"Atlas is… a person in a story from far away. In the story, Atlas makes a bad choice and as punishment he has to carry something really heavy. I thought, if you wanted something that represented getting caught under that big tree…"

"Atlas." He seemed to test the name out with a new appreciation, before he wiggled in her direction with a smile. "It's wonderful! I think I'll be Atlas. Here's to bad decisions with wonderful outcomes."

Lyrii burst into the meadow, Puck trailing behind.

"A Grubbin got hurt?" Lyrii bounded across the open grass in great leaps, covering the distance in record time. "I can call a Healer if he needs help, but lets get him stable first."

She skidded to a stop in front of Atlas with inches to spare, immediately running her paws over him. After seconds of inspection all of her worry seemed to evaporate, replaced by exasperated recognition.

"Oh, you should have mentioned it was Cle—"

"Atlas."

"Sorry?" Lyrii looked at the Grubbin in surprise. "What was that?"

"My name," he said with strange gravity, "is Atlas now."

All of Lyrii seemed to freeze. Slowly she turned, looking between Atlas and Eleanor and back again until she began to vibrate alarmingly.

"Did... did you name him?"

Eleanor's stomach dropped at Lyrii's tone. The playful atmosphere vanished like mist in sunlight.

"I... yes? He asked for help picking one."

"Oh dear." Lyrii's tail curled tight against her body. "Oh dear, oh dear."

Puck darted between Eleanor and Lyrii, his pink glow shifting to an anxious yellow.

"What's wrong? She was just helping."

"Naming is binding," Lyrii whispered. "It's the first step down a path that eventually creates a bond like yours, little one." She gestured to Puck with a trembling paw. "Did no one tell you?"

Eleanor's chest tightened. She looked at Atlas, who watched the exchange with the same peaceful expression he'd worn since they'd found him.

"But... but I didn't mean..." Her voice cracked and she turned on the bug. "Did you trick me?"

"The nature of intention is fascinating," Atlas mused. "Does meaning to do something make it more or less real than doing it by accident?"

"Stop that!" Eleanor's hands balled into fists. "Just tell me if you knew!"

Lyrii stepped forward, placing a gentle paw on Eleanor's knee.

"What's done is done, whether either of you intended it or not." Her voice carried a soothing authority that made Eleanor's anger fade to uncertainty. "Come with me. You should've been taught this already. When you showed up in the Valley with a True Bond to Puck, I just assumed you knew."

Lyrii gave a sharp, scolding look at Atlas, before she gestured for everyone to follow.

"Where are we going?" Puck asked.

"You're going to gather food for the feast. I've got to spread the word about tonight while there's still light out. Some stories aren't meant for casual conversation. It's disrespectful! The Highhoof would have my head if he found out." Lyrii led them towards the tree line where the fruit bushes grew in clusters.

She bounded up a trunk in nimble leaps, then stopped on a high branch and yelled down instructions.

"Gather it all! We're going to feed a lot of mouths tonight. Since we plan to talk about the Withering, everyone will want to make an appearance."

Eleanor and Puck looked at each other in surprise. Atlas hung back, being much slower than the others. He followed at a sedentary pace, his fat body undulating against the ground in an unhurried manner.

Worries crowded Eleanor's mind.

Was she in trouble? Why was Lyrii gathering a whole crowd just to have a talk? What was the Withering?

The Laws of the Valley hadn't mentioned anything about names. How was she supposed to know it was a bad thing? Was it a bad thing? Lyrii hadn't said it was bad exactly, but she'd definitely seemed worried by it. What if Eleanor had done something awful to Puck by naming him and she hadn't even realized it?

Lyrii looked down, chittering in distaste.

"Eleanor!" she barked, grabbing the girl's attention. "None of that! Remember, you're safe in the Valley, child. This lesson is one for all three of you, and it's long overdue. We're going to talk about bonds — all kinds of bonds — and what they mean in the Valley."