“Once we get past the treeline, expect to be watched at all times.” Dean remarked over his shoulder as they walked. “Don’t bother looking for them, they’ll be well-hidden.” The last was directed more at the Nidoran stolidly marching besides his young partner.
Grunts of acknowledgement came from the humans in the group. Sammy looked rather refreshed despite the sullenness in his eyes while Paul cradled his rifle sling and squinted even in the soft morning light. Both were dressed as they would for a typical day. Nothing they owned would have stood up to the rodents’ piercing fangs anyway. Denim overalls, cotton shirts, leather work boots. Dean noted the incision on Sammy’s left boot; a stark reminder of what they were about to do.
They moved in relative silence, no words need be said as they stepped through the underbrush. Sammy’s head swiveled to a fro as he took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the forest. He had always wondered what lied within its depths, but the warnings drilled into all of the young folk of Pallet Town had been enough to prevent his curiosity from getting the better of him. It only took one child going missing to make unattended excursions prohibited. It was a shame that it was so dangerous.
The forest was beautiful.
Multi-colored leaves clung to their branches and allowed iridescent light to stream down onto the ground. Greens mixed with reds and yellows painted a canvas of natural splendor. Chirps from Pidgey nests far above and the crackle of dead leaves and twigs were gentle on the ears. A soft breeze danced along, bringing with it the smells of loam and bark. It was the sort of perfume that could only be found in untamed growth, nothing like the curated and manicured parks that could be found in the larger cities. Not that Sammy had ever been to one. He had seen pictures though, and wondered why people would tear down something only to create a pale mockery of the original.
Sammy looked down at Crescent. The Nidoran’s ears were flared, twitching rapidly at every sound of movement. Its spines were fully upright, but not rattling as its eyes tried to pierce the brush and grass. Sammy slowed his pace to be closer to the Pokemon, hoping his nearby presence would help calm Crescent’s clearly rattled nerves. His own eyes darted from Pokemon to the Trainer just ahead as Sammy swallowed his pride enough to ask why Crescent was like this.
“In the wild, Arma toxa and Rattus normalus…that is, Pokemon of the Nido and Rat species, are competitors. Both are omnivorous and consume essentially the same diet. Adult and evolved forms of both species will mark out their territories. Crescent can smell that he’s trespassing right now and it’s likely causing him a good amount of stress.” Dean stopped speaking for a moment, one hand drifting towards his backpack before dropping back into his swinging gait. “Normally I would suggest that he be recalled to his ball until he’s needed, but seeing as you haven’t actually caught him…”
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“I can’t.”
“Precisely.”
Sammy frowned at the man’s next words.
“He would have been better off back at the house.”
Crescent seemed to agree with Sammy’s opinion as he chuffed a snort and glared at the back of Dean’s head. The Trainer shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t bother looking back as he spoke again.
“I didn’t suggest it because I knew he wouldn’t have agreed to it.”
Paul muttered something that Sammy didn’t catch under his breath, but Crescent chuffed a different sort of chuff. Rhythmic and staggered. Clearly whatever it was that Paul said was funny. Sammy glanced over quizzically, but Paul just waved him off. Deep bags were under the man’s eyes. It would seem that he hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep the night before.
A misty memory of a laughing ghost surfaced in Sammy’s mind, but he wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly where it came from. He must have dreamt it last night. Better than the usual nightmares.
They continued to walk for another fifteen minutes or so before Dean had called them all to a halt.
“We’re here. Gram, set up a screen if you would, please?”
Both Sammy and Paul jumped as the Kadabra appeared from seemingly thin air, and gasped in awe as translucent rectangular prisms coalesced about them, forming a sort of igloo of light around them.
Dean chuckled as he undid his bag and began to pull out the jacket of a dress uniform. “Barrier. It’ll muffle our voices as if we were behind closed doors. Don’t let the appearance fool you though, in this state it’s actually quite brittle. In battle, you would typically layer all of the individual sheets together rather than spread them out like this.” Slipping into the procured jacket, Dean closed up the bag and stood. “Let’s go over the plan one more time.”
Sammy barely registered the words as he stared at the patch sewn onto the uniform. It was the same patch that his father wore. A muted blue water drop encased a stylized number two all emblazoned on an angular shield. Below it read words that Sammy couldn’t pronounce, but remembered his father’s rough translation.
Plena Fortitudinem Bellum - All Out Offensive.
“Curious about my uniform, Sammy?”
Sammy shifted his stare to Dean’s face, the shock of seeing someone who had perhaps been close to his father had frozen his thoughts and left him speechless. Sammy’s gaze followed Dean’s finger as he pointed to different pieces.
“This is…was…my company patch. Second Company, First Platoon, the Wavebreakers. These ribbons here are the different awards that I received while I was still active. Most of them good behavior or service oriented, nothing to talk about. And up here was my rank.” Dean pointed at two red and yellow ribbons with stars near his throat. “I was a 2nd Lieutenant.”
Second Company, First Platoon?
Sammy’s throat seized and no words would come out. He was grateful when Paul spoke up.
“Hey, Sammy? Wasn’t that the same Platoon your father was assigned to?”