~~~ Chapter 49 - Campfire ~~~

Rolls of distortion had burst out, passing over me, momentarily shifting my visual senses in the waves, the way Oust's portals did, as if I was back at the entrance of the mountain. Lanky had decided to let the detective go, either not noticing the wave, or ignoring it. Lanky had called me back, telling me to keep from trying to pursue the guy.

I just had to hope that my nest-mates would be safe.

With the man gone, and things calmed down, we walked into a small clearing nearby. Lyra was saying things and Lanky was ignoring them. Lanky and Lyra both pulled out their packs, Lyra setting up a small tent as Lanky pulled a bunch of rocks in a circle—they were going to build a fire!

Not being a mountain girl in my past life, didn't mean I couldn't help with that they needed kindling. The midnight trip into the woods was fine, there was plenty of now-dried cotton. And sticks. A stick about as tall as me was not far off. With a quick chop, it was about as long as my arm.

With two halves I held up the stick and wrapped it up in my stickier silk. With the two sticks wrapped up, I rolled them around until I had a lot of now-dry cotton on the end, kinda like a stick of candy. Walking up to the firepit, both Lanky and Lyra had stopped their chatter and just watched.

The sticks dropped in the circular pit the trainers had tossed together, both Lyra's and Lanky's heads had followed me.

~~~

"Uh, did you teach her to do that?" Lyra asked Art, watching Leah go back out to the edge of the treeline of virizion's meadow.

His chuckle was wry. "No." He said, "no, I did not teach her how to build a fire. In fact, I'd never even built a fire around her. I haven't built a fire since I became a trainer. You should see how deftly she finds her way past locks. Though she seems to have trouble with zippers and tiled floors." He was smiling.

He was happy that Leah's own peculiarities managed to break through the heavy mood. He hoped Dawn was okay, of course, and maybe in a few years, he'd be able to help people like her.

"Huh. Meg doesn't like fires. To this day, she won't help me build one."

"Meeeg!" her pokemon said.

"Don't worry hon," Lyra said, "I'm not asking you to do anything!", and gave her pokemon a hug around its neck. Leah made another supply run, dropping the silk-covered sticks in the center of the circle of rocks.

"This seems really dangerous for Leah to be so gung-ho about."

"Yeah. Uh. Makes me wonder if I… what she would do," Lyra said, before dismissing the thought.

"Let's not instill sheer terror in my best friend," he said. "She already is terrified of anything that comes from the sky… I'm not sure what pokemon you have on your belt, but…" he followed Leah, who had picked up a couple of bigger sticks, too tall for her to carry, leaned them up next to the side of a tree, then did a spinning chop, slicing the branches in two, before picking them up and carrying them into the pit.

When no stick poked out from the pitiful fence of rocks, Leah seemed satisfied.

Then she stared. At Art. As if she expected him to light it.

"That's not natural," Lyra said.

"Exactly!" he said. "Isn't she so weird!"

Lyra chuckled. "Okay, first off, bugs are weird. That's why they give psychic, fighting, and dark types so much trouble."

"I know," he said rolling his eyes, "I can read the pokedex and 'pedia, too. I'd just figured most of the recent weirdness was from psychic feedback or… But that's probably not how it works, is it?"

"It shouldn't? I mean, you'd need to complete an actual rigorous scientific study, and I'm only studying ancient hieroglyphics." Lyra said, as Meg returned with a spot for her trainer to sit on. "Psychics are more vulnerable to feedback from bugs, but it shouldn't be the reverse…" Lyra trailed, before her eyes lit up.

"Let's watch her over the next few days, because this doesn't feel to me like the kind of behavior she'd pick up. If Leah did pick anything up from Dawn, it would be more from Dawn's mindset, not an obscure memory like setting up a campfire. At least, I'm eighty-percent sure."

"Eighty-percent?" he asked, partially chiding her for the silly response.

"Yeah, I don't know everything," Lyra said. He flinched a bit, but was amused because he was raising his eyebrow at her oddly-high and specific number.

Whatever, it didn't matter. "I still don't know why you want to stay up so late. Getting up tomorrow is going to be really rough."

~~~

Lanky and Lyra had both stared at me for a moment, as I stood in front of them, waiting for Lyra to pull out a lighter, when Meg let out a soft grunt. I turned around, and with a loud thud, a log dropped onto the ground, kicking up a wave of dirt, causing me to yelp in slight surprise as I was sprayed by dust and leaves. Lanky detached Leaf from his belt, releasing the goober.

Trying to listen to their words was hard and frustrating. It was as if I was just missing a few links, a puzzle with a few pieces. One where the bottom half had been filled in first, and each new word, it was like filling in the gaps.

It was a lot closer to having the full picture now, when you actually start prioritizing learning some extra words. Though, the motivation and desire to keep going with it was already leaving me. Other pokemon didn't really need to learn this shit, did they? God, this shit sucked. Was it really required if you wanted to live with humans?

Perhap if you wish to decide your own fate? Rather than getting nightmares of being stuck in an eternal grind.

The involuntary shudder shook me from the bottom of my tarsi, to the top of my antennae.

I would have to stand up and fight the bird as it stood in front of me. Watching the confidence and casualness that Meg exuded from her scent, nothing, nothing bothered her. As if she'd hit the top of the totem pole and nothing could knock her down. As if she had nothing which would predate upon her that kept her up at night.

I salivated over the desire for that to be me. I would have to deal with the threats of pokeballs, of humans taking me, but if I was strong? Could they control me? No. And being strong doesn't just mean physically-strong. It meant understanding the world and putting myself in it. I loved Lanky, but I wanted to get stronger because—I wanted to get stronger because—

You don't actually want to fight.

And how do you, as a pokemon, if you enjoy being a pokemon, get out of fighting, while still being around humans? How do you get your sugars and eat them too? How does a pokemon-pacifist thrive?

So you'll become strong enough that nothing else can fight you.

Looking at Lyra, her honed confidence, the way everything just slid off her. The way her scents said she had nothing to worry about, contrasted with Lanky's more restrained… anxiousness, the way he twitched when she spoke, the way his tone had wavered even while we had the upper hand. I needed to fill the puzzle in. I needed to not be afraid of every bird that flew overhead. Lyra's lighter flipped on, and I reflexively hopped back.

She said something to Lanky, but that flame was a reminder of how terrible fire was. Bug-me was NOT okay with fire. There was no fire in the sky. No birds cawing to eat me, at least. It was not a nightmare.

And compared to the slight ripple in Meg's leaves, it was as if I was standing at the base of a mountain—one that went on thousands of feet, all the way up, up into the clouds. And I felt like I was at the bottom. I knew I wasn't really that far down, but no matter how much my thinking brain would try to console me, I would be having a rough time with the birds and fires in my dreams that night.

I'd found myself in a tree, facing the campsite, next to Leaf, who had already found a branch. Together, we had found our way to a tree at the edge of the meadow, and I hadn't even registered it. Resting for the night, at least, at this distance, I was comfy, only occasionally stirred from slumber during my nightly torpor as a piece of smoke drifted our way.

~~~

Leah was still staring at Lyra, unmoving. Art's senior shivered a bit, before opening the lighter and flicking it, the spark causing the bug to flash into motion, hopping back. He pulled out his phone, checking his messages—Kate had left Castelia, and was crossing the SkyArrow, but was told to stay out of Pinwheel proper by rangers, but wasn't told why.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She'd probably cross paths with them in the morning, if she didn't fall asleep on her bike, that was. He wasn't about to ask Lyra if his friend could join them—felt a bit like too much imposition when he was lucky Lyra was letting him follow her around, at least until they needed to meet in Opelucid City.

Lyra didn't offer him a seat, or to have Meg chop it up for him. So he instead just pulled his sleeping bag a distance away from the sparks, as the little campfire trickled first, then roared to life as the fire spread from the little piece of paper, then to the dry leaves and kindling. It was Lyra who broke the silence, sitting on top of her log.

"Leah didn't just gather the wood, you know," Lyra said.

"I know." Smiling, he stared into the flames, the teeth slowly fading into a more passive, contended and pleasant smile. She'd chopped up the largest sticks, then stuffed cotton and dry leaves into the center.

"Shit's weird, Burgh."

"Yeah. And?" He already knew he was weird. He already knew Leah was weird. Didn't need another person telling him that.

"Makes me wonder," Lyra said.

"That she had another trainer already?" he asked. "She wasn't registered to anyone in the pokemon system. I mean, she could be modified by some group for nefarious reasons," he said, only half-joking.

"She could be a Faller," Lyra said.

"I'm sorry?" He asked. "A Faller?"

Lyra choked. "A Faller is a person who's woken up and only has a few memories of their past life. They remember few minor details, and often still have things like muscle memory and dreams which hint at their past."

"I don't think that's what she is," Art said, "because that still wouldn't explain why she wasn't registered to anyone."

"But you're sure no members from her nest demonstrate the same level of intelligence or behavior she does?" Meg knelt down, before lying on her belly, wrapping her face around her prone body, ensuring it was away from the fire. She'd avoided looking into it at all.

"Yeah. None of them, even the ones imitating her, are quite so natural. It's like watching a nine year old, followed by siblings half their age. For the record, I did try to get her comprehensively tested at Professor Juniper's Lab."

"And he said no, because he's an asshole?" Lyra said.

"Asshole is a bit mean, but pretty much. The Lab isn't allowed to do anything without his permission, and he won't give it."

"Good thing he's retiring next month, then." Lyra said, smiling.

"Wait, what!? How would you know that? The man doesn't say anything like that to me. Not even Aurea said that."

"Have you checked the news?" Lyra asked.

"Not since I got into town, no. I've been avoiding the news for obvious reasons."

"Ah. Well, the old man's a bit old-fashioned, and Aurea beat Grimsley yesterday morning. Took her three tries, apparently. She has a scary, well-rounded team." Lyra said.

"Does she scare you?" He asked, following her detour of the conversation.

"I think Alder's the only person in the region that would give me any pause, even without his volcarona. Bad luck, that," she said.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad. He'd just buried her that morning, when I was moved to Castelia gym, to try and raise the swadloons and become a trainer."

"Oh? Do you know where she's buried?" Lyra asked. "We can give the man time on his own, but I'd like to pay my respects," she said. Meg adjusted her position, a small vine tapping Lyra on her leg. "Shh Meg, it'll be fine," she said.

"Alder has a cottage out to the northwest of Castelia. I'm not sure where exactly, but the Junipers might know. I have Alder's phone number, I could text him, I guess?"

"Oh for fuck's sake kid! No, we're not bothering Alder while he's out grieving just so we can di—" Lyra said, before hushing her voice.

"You're going to dig up the grave of his dead pokemon!?!" he exclaimed. "And I thought I was weird! But no, if you're going to try and dig up his grave, I know I can't stop you, but… wow."

"Oh shut up, don't pull that moralistic horseshit on me," Lyra said, standing up, causing him to shift back from her, as if Lyra was going to breathe flames over him. She looked down at him, across the fire pit, before sitting back down on her log.

"Look kid, I'm not mad, all right?" she said. "You just… accidentally hit a sore spot."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not really, no," she said.

"All right," he said. Then asked, "Are you really going to dig up his bug's grave? You're not a necromancer, are you? Commanding legions of dead pokemon?"

"What? Fuck no, no I'm not. I'm just a twenty-nine year old woman trying to get her PhD."

"...who also—" he said, getting sassy, but Lyra held up her finger, keeping him from speaking any further.

She began again. "Ahem—who also may or may not have reached full cathexis with Ho-Oh, unwittingly."

His eyes went wide. Art made a mental note to look up the exact meaning of 'cathexis', then decided that probing her knowledge a bit would be better.

"Bonded with, you mean? Synchronized?"

"Hmm," she hummed, before continuing. "That's not far off, but how do I put it," she said, pulling the peculiar pokeball off her belt, rolling it around in her hands.

"I'm not going to give you the full story, because believe it or not, I am starting to get tired," she said, yawning, "but recall the stories of trainers performing superhuman feats, ones that just don't happen for non-trainers, right?"

He nodded. There were plenty. And he'd already read a few of the papers Aurea had sent him, loading them up onto his old pokedex. There was even scientific evidence saying those things should be happening for any active trainer or person well-specialized in pokemon. He wasn't completely sure himself, but he'd noted he was tempted to munch on the occasional candy he'd bought for Leah and Fidget at Looker's behest. He'd even noted himself getting hungry earlier that morning, until watching bugs get roasted took his enthusiasm away.

"Yeah, that. They're all themed from the pokemon in your team, the ones you spend the most time with. You'll note that I don't have the same sturdy disposition Meg does, despite her being out all the time," Lyra said. "In fact, I'm only 120 pounds, and I assure you—" she said, smiling, "I do not have any eating disorder. I was 160 lbs of pure muscle, before then, actually. I'd been fully bonded with Meg for so long by that point."

Art looked at the woman who'd called him Burgh. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be resentful of the unwanted for and unconsented-for title or not. Not that it mattered too much, at the end of the day. In fact, he was coming around to the idea that it would be better to own the title anyway. If the Press was going to deny him his self-identification, then he would lean into the more harmless aspects which they tried to use to slander him for anyway.

As far as Lyra went, though, she didn't seem that skinny, though… She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt in the middle of spring time. And also, she kept her brown hair long, and was wearing a pair of jeans. Perhaps if someone saw her arms they would try and take advantage? No, Meg was and would always be there. No pushover, that monster was.

"Do you have a craving to eat worms?" he blurted out, that niggling bit of curiosity that was better left alone finally getting to him.

"What? No. I have no cravings to eat bugs of any kind," she said. Words, tone and expression all summed up to be a moment of taken aback, and then clear exasperation, as if she'd had the conversation with others before.

It was a half-second before she found the words to say. "Fires," she said, "I just want to burn it all down sometimes. Now it's my turn to ask you questions!" she said, pointing her finger at him, as Art was kneeling on the ground, the waves of fire and smoke drifting into the air, turning to coals as the largest of sticks Leah had gathered were finally burning down.

"Shoot," he said.

"First off, do YOU get a craving to eat bug food?" She said,

"Yeah," he said, her attitude deflating.

"Wait, what?" she said. He opened the back of his backpack, pulling out a pair of the Leavanny-specialized candy, putting one in his mouth.

"Firing bags of shit," Lyra said, watching him, her face contorting as she processed just what was happening.

"See, if you're going to go around digging graves, to perform some kind of phoenix voodoo or whatever on Alder's dead bug," he said, "then you can't judge me for my taste in candy. Here," he said, "try one. It's literally just layers of crystallized sugar with rock-hard fertilizer in the center. Leah and Fidget both love this stuff." He tossed the rock to her. It fell to the ground in front of her. She picked it up, sniffed it, then gave it a light lick, her mouth turning from a sneer, into a more neutral one.

"I think I'm taking psychic damage right now" she said, putting it into her mouth, before spitting it back out onto the ground, seconds later. "That's the most concentrated sugar I've ever had," she said. "My tastebuds immediately curled up the moment the sugar actually started to melt."

"I know, it's great!" he said, swishing it around in his mouth, as the first layer melted off. "Feht snexsht schelayer" he said, "raily melchs em yooor mooauf," he said, Lyra watching him. Meg grunted, her vine picking the piece of sugar Lyra had spat out of the ground, before choking, spitting it back out onto the fire, kicking ashes into the air, causing Artemus to cough at the unwelcome substances making their way into his lungs.

"Unfortunately," he said, spitting the remaining rock out into the grass— "I probably shouldn't digest fertilizer."

"Did you just do that to spook me!" Lyra asked.

"What? No! I just had the impulse to try it," he said, smiling as the sugar was probably going straight to his brain.

"Okay, well…" she said, "don't ever try to woo a girl with that."

He chuckled. "Don't think I'll be worried about that any time soon."

"I just…" she said, "that stuff's meant for bugs" she said, exasperated.

"And?" He asked.

"Fine, be that way," she said. Then her grin returned. "Second question! Why bugs? You know that they are some of the weakest-type pokemon, right? A single bird or fire pokemon and your team's in trouble. A single fire bird on the enemy team, and your team will be running for the hills," she said.

"I've always had a thing for the weird. And the bugs," he said, "it wasn't ever about strategy or planning the perfect team for me."

"Makes sense, but even so, why do you have two Leavanny? Surely you could trade one away and spec out into other bug types and keep your team more rounded," Lyra asked.

"I was thinking about rounding the team out, actually, now that I have my first badge," he said. "But I actually got Leah and Fidget as rescues, strays caught outside Anville from the pokecenter. Leah had even saved me from a couple bullies. And she's the reason I'm out here with you, rather than in Anville, doing who-knows-what, maybe following after my dad," he said, staring into the red-hot embers of the dying fire. "He was never home, practically living along the rail lines. But he is living his dream now, and I'm living mine."

Lyra was quiet. How long since she had talked to her own mother? A few months. Going out, socializing, even calling her mom. Just... talking to other people it had gotten hard for her.

"One more question from me," he said. "Seriously though, what do you plan to do if you dig up volcarona's grave? Surely ho-oh's power isn't that literal," he asked.