Liftoff 1.5

April 2015

I woke up with the dawn, a habit that had been long ingrained in me by this point. When you backpacked without electricity, you rose and slept with the big blinker in the sky, sleeping sometimes as early as seven or eight at night and rising to catch as much daylight as you could, while you could.

That didn't mean I was happy about it though. It was a chore, an inconvenience I'd simply resigned myself to suffering. I looked forward to the day we could get electricity up and running and I could sleep in like God (Arceus?) intended. I had no idea where I'd find a magnemite or something, but now that I had a camper of my own, I'd almost be willing to tangle with those not-pikachu things again if it'd give me the convenience of modern amenities.

I shoved Rocket off me with a grunt. His seventy-some pounds of fluff and muscle was great in the cold, but not so much in a camper.

Rocket let out a keening whine that only subsided when I gave him a scritch between the ears. Whatever else there was to say about the power difference between pokemon and humans, we had opposable thumbs.

"Come on, Rocket. It's time to get up."

"Lin…"

"I know it's warm. We should figure out what all's in this little town though."

So saying, I kicked the blanket off and got ready for the day. The night prior, I'd taken two abandoned plastic containers and drawn water from the main pump next to the communal kitchens. I used one now to quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before wandering outside.

I trudged over to the small fire pit I'd had Rocket dig for us and went about making breakfast. I'd been lucky; the walk from Sierraville to Carnelian Bay had taken only a few days so the canned and frozen foods I'd packed were still mostly uneaten. I asked Ranger Swanson if I ought to add them to the communal larders yesterday, but he told me that they were mine to do with as I pleased as I wasn't part of the community when I foraged for them.

Which meant breakfast could be a bit more indulgent with the expectation that I wouldn't need to conserve quite as much as I was used to.

I tossed a hunk of frozen deer fat into a pan and waited for it to melt before throwing in a handful of chopped mushrooms that I knew for a fact were safe to eat. I also tore open two frozen breakfast burritos from their plastic packagings and tossed them into the pan before covering the lid. The oven-like heat would hopefully melt the ready-meal all the way through. A breakfast burrito with a side of fried mushrooms wasn't what I would have gone for back in the Before, but it was a fair bit more luxurious than I'd come to expect while backpacking through the Pacific Northwest.

Rocket and I ate quickly. Ranger Swanson said he'd come find me in a few days and left me to settle in. He recommended I see about introducing myself to everyone properly so they could call on me for jobs if I, or more likely, Rocket, became necessary.

I thought about who I wanted to visit first and ultimately settled on Guilermo Chavez, the owner of the sporting goods store that currently doubled as an armory. I'd left my crossbow with the bent rail with him yesterday and wanted to know if he'd fixed it already. If not, I at least wanted to know how long it would take. After all, I didn't exactly have many marketable skills besides hunting and woodsmanship, and though I did have the Springfield M1911 pistol Ranger Swanson left behind at Sierraville, firearms were too loud to be my weapon of choice.

I walked off the golfing green and down the dirt road towards the town proper, Rocket at my heels. My partner was still taking it all in. He'd had friendly-ish interactions with people before in Bend, but the last he remembered was probably the start of the riots and food shortages that made us skip town.

We were on our way to Guilermo's when we crossed the schoolhouse. I didn't know if it was already in place or had been some other building repurposed into a school, but the fledgling town did have one. The building was one of the first from the golfing green and I could see a few teachers waiting outside to usher kids to their classrooms.

Made sense. I didn't know how many of the roughly 2,300 residents were children, I suspected fewer than in normal towns, but even if that ratio was only ten percent, that was still 230 kids who needed to be cared for. I briefly wondered what educational materials people could have here but dismissed it from my mind; it wasn't really my business.

One of the kids, a boy of about twelve or thirteen, pointed Rocket out to his friends. "Dude, that's a linoone!"

"That's an obese ferret," another chimed in.

Rocket's ears perked up in recognition, only to twitch with irritation immediately after. I couldn't help it; I let out a bark of laughter that had him nipping at my fingers.

"Oi!" I yelped.

"Oone," he chuffed.

"Can we touch your pokemon?" the first boy said. He was a brave one. Most kids his age had the wonder of "real life pokemon" beaten out of them by now.

I glanced down at Rocket. He shuffled around to my other side, not quite hiding, but not exactly happy with the proximity. He flipped his upper lip up to show a flash of fangs. "Better not, kid. Rocket's not comfortable with most humans. Don't touch any pokemon if you can help it."

"Come on, it's just a little."

"Nope. Now get out of here."

He reached out a hand and I slapped it away. I grabbed him by the shoulder and bodily marched him towards the school. Rocket sat on his haunches, not following the kid.

At the school's main door, I saw one of the teachers, an elderly woman with graying hair and a tired smile. She stared back at my linoone, then at me with naked mistrust. As I got closer, she grabbed the boy by the ear and began to tug him inside.

"I told you not to approach the pokemon, Daniel," she chided. "They're dangerous! You know what they can do to a person?"

"Ow! Lemme go," he whined, flailing but not quite willing to lash out.

I rolled my eyes and turned back towards Rocket. "You're welcome," I muttered.

I had the sneaking suspicion that this "school" was more of a daycare for children as it was an educational institution. The teachers were older, probably to let the younger men and women do something productive with their time. The students, a few hundred, seemed to be grouped up broadly by age group rather than individual years, either because there weren't enough educational materials or students.

On the plus side, they did have a good teacher-student ratio as there wasn't much else the elderly could do to contribute beyond administrative tasks. This wasn't anything I'd personally considered before, but seeing it now made the whole institution seem incredibly pragmatic, if perhaps a bit insensitive. I did find it a little funny that this place had a better teacher-student ratio than any school I'd attended pre-apocalypse.

Who knew all it'd take to improve the education system was to start a nuclear war?

"Lin?" Rocket asked. I realized I'd been smiling like an idiot.

"Ehh, don't worry about it. Just thinking about something stupid."

"Linoone."

"Oi, I might not understand you perfectly, but I knew what that meant."

"Oone," he chuffed, about as clear a "You were supposed to," as I'd ever heard.

"Ass. I oughta leave you with the kids. Let them shave you bald."

"Linoone-lin," he growled low, fur floofing out. It made him look adorably huggable, but I knew it for what it was.

"No, you may not turn kids into pin cushions," I said dryly.

"Li-oone…"

"I'm joking. We need you fluffy so we can hunt better anyway."

"Oone."

"Yeah, I know. We'll go hunting again soon. I need my crossbow back though."

X

Guilermo Chavez had his store set up on what amounted to Carnelian Bay's main street. Neither the store nor the street had a real name, chiefly because both were the only ones of their kind.

The man himself was a squat, tan fellow in his early thirties with a big, bushy mustache on an otherwise clean-shaven face. He offered Rocket and I a nod of acknowledgement as we walked into the store. He sat behind the counter and in front of a wall filled with different weapons. Around the store were shelves laden with gear ranging from paracord bracelets and firemen's axes to sticks of flint and rolls of waterproof tarp.

"Shane, was it?" he asked rhetorically.

"That's right. Guilermo, right? Came by to see if my bow's fixed."

"Nah, not yet. I've got a few more orders. I should have it back to you tomorrow."

"Pity, I was hoping I could go out hunting today."

He dug around beneath the counter and pulled out a box of bullets. I noticed he was missing a pinky in his dominant hand. ".45 ACP. Swanson said he gave you his M1911. You can use this in the meantime, should be enough to hunt rabbits and whatnot anyway."

"Thanks, Guliermo. A bit loud for me, but I'll deal."

"Yeah, crossbows are great for a huntsman, especially when you're not the baddest thing in the woods anymore." He must have caught me glancing at his hand because he let out a rueful chuckle. "Heh, this ol' thing? Got it when I stabbed one of them giant hornets. The ones with them stinger-arms."

"Beedrill? We have those around here?" I asked, alarmed. Those things were infamous in the anime for being the pissiest sons of bitches in the forest. Just looking at a kakuna wrong could get a hive sent after you. I hadn't seen them around, but I also hadn't exactly gone looking either.

"Heh, too cold. Ya gotta head down the mountain a ways."

"Shut up, Guliermo," came another voice behind me. The newcomer too was a man in his early thirties. He had dark skin and a buzzcut and was dressed in a typical ranger's getup, vest and all. "I went to college with the lazy ass. Guy lost his finger trying to work a table saw in woodshop while high off his ass. Was way back before these pokemon showed up."

"Hey, fuck you, Jarvis. Let me have my fun, yeah?" the storekeeper huffed.

"Maybe if you'd stop telling people you fought a pokemon bare-handed. Last time it was a mightyena."

"Heh, next time it'll be a tyranitar. Watch me."

"Don't be proud of it, you idiot. One of these days, one of these newbloods will believe your horseshit."

"I know. It'll be hilarious," he said with a gap-toothed grin that had his mustache wiggling merrily.

I rolled my eyes. "Just wanted to know if I should be watching for pissy bug types."

"For that, you want to talk to Sabrina," Jarvis said. He held out a hand for me to shake. "Jarvis Smith by the way. Used to be a hiking guide before shit went down, studied environmental science with this chuckle-fuck over here back in college."

"Shane Hayes," I greeted back. "Was a university student in Arlington. Took a backpacking trip here when the world ended. Best decision of my life."

"Yeah, best decisions are the ones that let you live longer."

"Amen to that. So, Sabrina? Sounds familiar."

"Right. Ranger Swanson's daughter. She's about your age, was studying to be a vet back in the Before. She's got it into her head to make a pokedex. Not a digital one or anything, just a notebook of observations and the like. If you want a list of pokemon around Tahoe, she's your gal."

"Thanks, Jarvis, that's helpful."

"You're welcome, kid. She can usually be found handling the administrative side of running the ranger station, has a little lab and clinic set up and everything. You came into town yesterday, right? Swanson tell you about the bounty board?"

"Bounty board?"

"So that's a no then. He probably wanted to tell you when you next met up with him so you could have some time to explore town a bit. The board's outside on the wall around the porch here. It's a list of jobs people need doing around town that isn't too urgent."

"Why's it called a bounty board?"

"You'll sometimes see things. Someone gets a taste for venison, it'll go on the board. Dangerous pokemon? On the board."

I nodded. It sounded more or less like a standard Adventurer's Guild setup in cookiecutter fantasy settings. "Why not just tell people?"

"We don't have a rigid setup," Jarvis said with a shake of the head. "Anyone who goes out into the forest is considered a ranger. And with no phones and very limited walkie-talkies…"

"Communication's shit so it makes things easier to have a single place where people can come and go for jobs."

"Yup, bingo. Gully here does more than mind the bullets. He's also the one who keeps the board updated and whatnot."

"Oi, don't call me Gully, fucker," the shopkeep grunted in mild annoyance. "It's Guliermo or Chavez."

"Sure, Gully," Jarvis shot back. No one could get on your nerves like an old friend. "Anyway, take a few jobs around town. Shit works mostly on the honor system, but if you're found cheating the client, or if the client's cheating you, it's your ass. You really don't want that kinda rep."

"I hear you," I said with a nod. I didn't doubt some people could be assholes about payment, but that was just part of living in a society. This low-tech nonsense probably was the best they could manage for the moment. "Thanks for giving me the lowdown, Jarvis."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Yeah, yeah, get the hell out of my shop," Guliermo grunted. Despite his words, he slid the box of bullets across the table. "Freebie, kid. Just this once. You're gonna need to find some cash though."

"I need to know what cash is first," I said sheepishly. "I don't think you use good ol' Washingtons anymore."

"Ehh, we do, sometimes, but there ain't enough bills in circulation, not like we can print money here. I also accept favors, game, or smooth river rocks."

"River rocks. Not bottlecaps?"

"Heh, Fallout fan too?" I nodded. "Funny as that'd be, there aren't enough caps either, and the ones we have, we kinda want to use. Same for bullets."

"Got it. I want money, I can dig around the creek somewhere."

"Between you and me? I'd prefer fresh game meat. Or some herbs and shit. You know, something tangible. Mayor McAllen added rocks as currency we won't burn through a few weeks back. I can see the logic in it, but it doesn't have the same legitimacy as the dollar did, you know?"

"Yeah, I hear you. Thanks Guillermo."

I walked out of the store with a lot on my mind. During my trek down from Bend, I'd wondered what this new world would do about money. Jokingly, I'd wondered if I ought to stock up on bottle caps and the like. I hadn't seriously considered the problem until I'd arrived here however.

It made sense for the town to want to move past a barter economy, but the trouble with fiat currency was that it was fiat, faith. So long as important members of the town like Guilermo didn't adopt it, it just wouldn't catch on. I didn't know if there were any other options, I wasn't an economist, but I suspected it'd take a while for a standard rate of exchange to form around river rocks.

Before I left, I decided to take a glance at the bounty board Jarvis pointed out. They weren't "quests." If anything, they were more like chores.

Chop forty pounds of firewood for the school. - 20 stones.

Teach a class on edible wild plants to older students at the school (Must be an established ranger). - 45 stones.

Kill, capture, or chase away a flock of spearow that have been pecking around the crops. - 10 stones/spearow, 100 stones upon confirmation of the entire flock.

Looking for a boathand to fish with us. - 80 stones per day and fresh fish from the catch.

None of them appealed to me. Fighting spearow sounded like a great way to get Rocket more experience, but depending on the size of the flock, it was also a great way to get jumped and overwhelmed. Considering how hard it would be to find a hundred river rocks, I had to assume a "stone" was the smallest denomination and bigger rocks would be worth more.

I didn't take any requests, but they did give me a fair idea of what I could expect to be paid. An inexperienced fisherman was worth eighty stones? That sounded like a lot, but that was probably a full six to eight hours of work.

Tabling thoughts of money for now, I headed off to find Ranger Swanson's daughter. No matter what else I had to do, I felt that talking to the resident poke-nerd was a good idea. Luckily, the ranger station wasn't too far from the main road.

X

I stepped into the ranger station proper, not the little tollbooth set up just behind the gate. The lobby was what I'd come to expect from my backpacking trips, a whole lot of wood and cork boards with different signs and maps and whatnot. There was a large statue of an anthropomorphic elk in one corner, maybe the mascot of this place.

Behind the counter sat a young woman about my age with the thickest coke bottle glasses I'd ever seen. She was kinda cute in that waifish super-nerd way, with dirty blonde hair trimmed short into a pixie-cut and hazel eyes that peered out from behind her glasses. The lenses made her eyes look rather large on her, which, added to her short, slim build, made her look a bit comical.

"Hello? I haven't seen you-Eeeh!" She cut herself off as soon as her eyes spotted the linoone, breaking into a high-pitched squeal that made Rocket flatten his ears in annoyance. She skipped out from behind the counter to get a closer look. "It's a linoone!"

"And that must make you Sabrina Swanson," I said dryly. She was the opposite of her father. Ranger Thomas Swanson was a tall, broad-shouldered man who had a real "lone ranger" aesthetic and mutton chops that made his face and neck seem even thicker than it was. His daughter was… not that.

"Oh! Sorry! Yes, I'm Sabrina. I handle the administrative stuff for dad and the other rangers. You must be Shane."

She'd been inching closer to Rocket with every word, slowly, as though he wouldn't notice. I reached out and placed a finger on her forehead before pushing her back gently. "I am. Please don't try to pet Rocket. He doesn't like it."

"Aww, just a little?"

"Nope. He bites and I don't want to explain to Ranger Swanson why his daughter lost a finger."

"Come on, I'll tell him I wrestled a haxorus. You know, like Guilermo. Wait, you wouldn't know who that is yet. Or do you?"

"We've met. Guy's fixing up my crossbow. And you're distressingly cavalier about losing appendages."

"Ehh. It's for science."

"Right, of course it is."

"It is! I'll have you know I'm the foremost authority on pokemon in the Tahoe region. Which makes me a pokemon professor," she said, chest puffed out with pride. I stared deadpan and watched her deflate. "You're no fun."

"I'm loads of fun. I just need more vodka to start."

"You know, girls don't like guys who can only hold a conversation when they're tipsy."

"And guys don't like girls with missing fingers."

"Ugh, fine. I wanted to run a physical for him. You know, get a linoone's size, weight, number of teeth, that sort of thing. I was studying to be a vet and everything."

"So I've been told. I've also been told you have a pokedex, of sorts."

"Hehehe, yeah… It's really more like a notebook with all my observations than anything. Guess you're here for that?"

"I'd like to know what else I might come across if I go off the trails," I said blandly.

"Of course. Keeping our boys informed is a big part of what I do anyway. I played all the games, read the manga, watched the anime, the whole shebang."

"You too? Nice."

"Yup! Which means, as the pokemon professor, I have to ask you just one question before I give you my pokedex."

"Shoot."

She leaned forward and peered up at me through squinted eyes. "Now, this is very important: Are you a boy or a girl?"

"Hah!" I reeled back in surprise. "Alright, that was good."

"I know. You sure you can't convince Rocket to let me give him a physical?"

"He can understand us just fine. What do you think, bud? Let the weird bug-eyed lady feel you up?"

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm only wearing these because I broke the pair fitted for me and these are the spares I had," she said with a pout.

Rocket stared up at me, then at Sabrina. He let out a noise through his nostrils that was halfway between a huff and a bark before looking away. "Lin."

"And that means…?"

"He thinks we're idiots and he doesn't want your grubby fingers in his fur. Then again, I'm sure he's open to being convinced. Got any treats?"

"Treats? What does he eat?"

"Everything. I've been giving him an even share of whatever I eat. I figure he'll just spit out whatever he can't digest."

"That's a horrible method."

"Yeah, well, there aren't any linoone experts I can go for consulting anyway. Besides, didn't Ash's pikachu have a ketchup addiction in the anime?"

"Well, yesh, but…"

"If you want to bribe him with food, try something smoky. He's taken a real liking to smoked foods."

"Fine." She knelt so she could meet Rocket at eye-level. "If I get you a whole smoked pheasant, can I run a few tests on you?"

"Lin? Linoone… Oone," he chuffed, shaking his head.

"Two birds?"

"Lin."

"Two birds and a smoked trout. Final offer."

I rolled my eyes and nudged the ornery ferret with my foot. "Just let her. She can't go higher than that anyway."

"Wait, has he been trying to make me give him more food?"

"Linoone," Rocket grunted. He had a distinctly smug smile.

"I… I think I just got ripped off by a ferret…"

I laughed. "Pokemon are smart. Just because we can't understand them doesn't mean they don't know what's going on. He'll still make sure you deliver on that price though."

"Yeah, I know. Ugh, I'm going to be so poor after this," she moaned.

"Tough. So, the dex?"

"Right, let me go get you a copy." She ducked into a side room before coming back with a small notebook and pen. She also had a disposable camera in her hand, one of those you could find in a gas station. She slid the lot over to me with a smile. "Camera has forty pictures per roll of film. If you find any other pokemon that aren't listed in the notebook, snap a picture and show me. I'm not loaded or anything, but I can give you some things to make it worth your while."

I quickly flipped through the entries. I saw lists of pokemon I'd already known about; spearow, pidgey, hoothoot, taillow, zigzagoon, rattata, poochyena, drilbur, the new, goat-like pokemon called skiddo, diglett, oddish, and the like. They'd been sorted alphabetically, though I wondered if making a threat system of some sort might be more useful. Then I spotted something I hadn't expected. "Sneasel?"

"Ah, yeah. That's a maybe though. One of the rangers spotted a clawed creature with dark fur and a red crest on its forehead. He said he only saw it out of the corner of his eyes so couldn't be sure."

"Fair enough. I'll have to be careful then. Do you make copies of all of these entries by hand?"

"Yeah, when I have time. Which is why you shouldn't lose it!" she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am. Thanks for this, Sabrina."

"Yeah, yeah, take care, Shane."

X

After that, Rocket and I took a leisurely stroll around the town. Despite Ranger Swanson's quick tour, I wanted to get the lay of the land on our own.

The walls of Carnelian Bay were short and stout, built thick so most pokemon would have trouble breaking through the dirt. They stood just high enough to give watchmen a clear line of sight into the treeline, but not so high as to harm nearby buildings if they should ever come down. It was honestly a little impressive what a dozen graveler could get done in a month or so.

Rocket and I waved to a different set of guards at the southern end of the town as we headed out to see the farming area. A lot of the job posts on the bounty board were from farmers so I felt we should make ourselves familiar. It'd be disastrous if Rocket got shot at because the farmers didn't recognize him as my partner after all.

The town covered almost three miles of shoreline from the end of Agate Bay southward. I could see the general idea: Maximize the waterfront for improved fishing, especially since agriculture was a dodgy prospect when the town was first being set up. It was also a good thing for defensive reasons too, assuming there weren't any dangerous water types around.

The farmland was therefore to the immediate south of the walls. The moment I stepped outside, I could tell at least one person in the decision-making committee had been a fan of Chinese vistas. Like in old postcards, the farmland was terraced. Each plot of land sat flat, forming a sort of stairway upwards and away from the lake. Interspersed among the farmland were meadows of green where goats with foliage instead of fur grazed.

I assumed those were the skiddo.

We walked along the hard-packed dirt pathways. They were narrow but sturdy, dense enough that the occasional rain or snow wouldn't turn them soggy. All of this, it could only be done with the ground and rock types around. There was no way in hell a random collection of modern-day people could have converted this much forest into farmland, built crude roads, and erected walls. I found myself respecting the graveler and Mayor McAllen more. Whatever could be said about politicians, from what I saw, he looked like a man who knew what he was doing. Or at least, a man who knew how to delegate.

The plots of land weren't very large, maybe a quarter of a football field in length each. They were a far cry from the industrialized, corporate agriculture that used to exist. Instead of fields of green and gold, the plants looked more like tiny polka dots of green in a sea of brown. Interestingly, some plots of land were noticeably further along than others. I could see tomatoes that were starting to ripen red in one plot while another had sprouts of an unknown crop that had only just begun to germinate.

People moved between the plants, watering them or spreading fertilizer or whatever else farmers did. They had no machines or insecticides so everything had to be done by hand. Dotted all along the dirt pathways were junctions where metal dumpsters had been emptied and laid out. From the smell, they contained manure and compost, probably placed closer to the fields so people wouldn't have to lug them out everywhere.

The primary mode of transportation seemed to be wooden carts. Those were a strange, anachronistic clash of modern and medieval. The wheels were obviously stripped from cars, bikes, and the like, they were worthless without gas anyway, while the body of the carts had been made from lumber derived from clearing this farmland.

I looked around for someone who could give me a quick tour. Off at the highest point of the terraced farmland, a man sat on a bench with a towel slung over his neck. He had one of those timeless faces that made it impossible to guess his age and a thin frame with whipcord muscles. At his side was a skiddo, the little grass-goat eating something out of his hand.

I walked over to say hello. The skiddo saw us coming, took one look at Rocket, and scampered off. "Hey there, are you the boss around here?"

He gave me a once over and nodded. "Yeah, that's me. Pat Myers. You?"

"Shane Hayes, and this here's Rocket. We're new in town and thought we'd go see the sights."

"So I see. Come sit down here with me a while. Anyone give you the grand tour?"

"Ranger Swanson, but it was a very brief thing. He told me I oughta see my way around town for a day or two on my own so that's what I'm doing."

"Heh, ol' Tom's like that. Real hands off, except when it comes to his daughter."

"Sabrina? Yeah, I met her too. She's the 'pokemon professor,' right?" I said with a joking smile.

"That's her. Cute little thing, spunky too. You'll be seeing her often if you join the rangers."

"It's all I know. I mean, I went to college, but it's not like I studied anything that'd be helpful here."

"What'd you study?" Pat asked, more for the sake of asking than any real curiosity.

"You're gonna laugh, but philosophy. Got my BA in it with a minor in music."

"Why?"

"So I can work at McDonald's and ask people why they want fries with that," I deadpanned.

"Hah! You had it pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Family wasn't loaded or anything, but I could afford to get a useless degree. I was studying for the LSAT, but then the world went to shit."

"I hear you. What do you play?"

"Piano. Violin. I sing a bit. Probably rusty as hell. How 'bout you? How'd you end up here?"

"Shit, I'm just the delivery guy. Grew up in a farm in bumfuck Washington. You know, the east side of the state, not Seattle. Wanted to leave home and see the world, realized I had no qualifications, and eventually ended up a delivery driver to places like this."

"Then shit happened," I finished for him.

"Then shit happened," he agreed with a nod. "Ain't all bad though. I know how to farm and that makes me worth something, you know?"

"I can see it. I bet those grass types help too. How'd you end up with all the skiddo and oddish though?"

"Haha, you think they're all mine? No way, Shane. I played Pokemon Red more than a decade ago. I don't know much about pokemon. Don't even know what kind Rocket here is. I fed one skiddo and the rest just kinda followed me. I think I lucked out with the queen of the herd. She likes me so all the rest fall in line."

"Huh, nice. Guess with them being herd animals, it helps them fit in easy with us humans."

"Yup. I had some produce in my truck. Gave the herd some and talked about how we can grow more. Next thing I know, Queenie and her herd did something and the soil's as good as can be. We've got a few harvests of the fast-growing stuff already. Radish? Stuff's supposed to grow in three weeks. We got ours in one."

I let out an impressed whistle. "I guess feeding ourselves won't be too much of a problem. I didn't think grass types could do so much though."

"It's not just the skiddo. The diglett and drilbur turn the soil for us. The graveler gather up minerals they don't eat. Then the oddish do… something… I'm not sure what, but soil seems loamier after they pass by. We still gotta do the harvesting and watering, but that's a good problem to have."

"Color me impressed then. I'm not sure what I was expecting when I came out here, but this wasn't it."

He scratched his chin in thought. "Hey, you said you're not busy, right?"

"Not much planned except touring the town."

"How about you do a job for me? It's on the bounty board but no one's taken it yet."

"Is it the spearow one?"

"Yup. Interested? It's decent pay and the bodies are yours to keep."

I'd eaten spearow before, pidgey too, and they tasted more or less like any other game bird, albeit with a bit more chew. They were rich, savory, and went wonderfully with rosemary and wild garlic. I suspected that the feathers could be used to fletch arrows if I could find a bowyer. If nothing else, Rocket was always happy to grab another bite.

I frowned in hesitation. "Rocket's not that great at ranged combat. I'm afraid he might not be the help you think he is. He can probably handle himself against a few, but how big's the flock?"

"We have no idea. I've seen four. Tim, another guy, saw nine."

"If one's a fearow, we're in deep shit. We might have to have some of the graveler standing around."

"Maybe… We've all got hunting rifles just in case. We should be able to drive one off, right? You'll have all of us at your back too."

"Then sure, guess I have plans today."

"Right. I'll pay you both the going rate for each head of spearow."

"Actually, mind if I just get food? Fresh produce means more to me than rocks."

He held out a hand. "Sure, Shane. You got yourself a deal. Something to go with that spearow roast."

I hadn't planned on accepting a job, but I figured getting in good with Pat Myers wasn't bad. More than the promise of fresh poultry, I was a little wary of saying no and being seen as not contributing. Besides, considering a fearow hadn't been seen yet, it was likely that none of them evolved yet. Now was the ideal time to take them out before they could graduate from nuisance to menace.

Author's Note

The skiddo used Grassy Terrain but they don't know that because they're only aware of pokemon up to Unova. Skiddo wasn't a species they knew about until Queenie kept saying her own name.

Animal fact? Sure.

Goats have horizontal bar-shaped pupils. These pupils will naturally reorient to be parallel with the ground, no matter what the head is doing. If it's grazing, you'd expect the rectangular bars to be perpendicular and align with the nose, but no, it's always parallel to the ground.

This is because that extra-long pupil catches more light from the periphery. Slitted pupils also allow for more dynamic contraction and expansion, protecting them from harsh light.

They're not the only ones that have this either. Deer, sheep, and toads all have similar setups for similar reasons.

Note: Vertical slits, found on foxes, cats, and snakes, optimize depth perception. This doesn't work however for larger animals with their heads higher from the ground. This is why big cats, despite common misconceptions, do not in fact have "cat's eyes."

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.