I'll admit that I was surprised by the woman's words, though they did explain why I hadn't seen Florence since the previous night. I thought Florence was annoying, sure, but I didn't want to think that anyone I knew could be – missing? dead? I had no idea what the woman even meant by her words.

That just made it feel even more unexpected when the two other trainers didn’t seem phased at all.

"Not again," Michael droned, brushing his dark bangs out of his eyes. "My apologies, Maybelle, but we have traveled out there to rescue your wayward daughter dozens of times in the past. She has survived all of her excursions before; why worry now?"

Richard elbowed his upper arm, making Michael yelp in protest. "Do let me apologize for this worthless excuse of a trainer's lack of manners, Maybelle. Unfortunately, I must agree with his conclusion. Florence is quite capable of taking care of herself. You need not panic."

"Manners? What do you know of manners, you giant oaf?"

"Better an oaf than a flimsy excuse for a fighter!"

The two continued flinging insults at each other, completely ignoring the woman wringing her hands next to them. I gathered from the resigned looks on the villagers' faces and the muttering and giggling that spread through the crowd that this was not an unusual occurrence; it seemed as though I had managed to land myself in the middle of some kind of power struggle. Such was my luck.

Florence's mother – Maybelle, they had said? – still looked upset, and I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to be able to get Drowzee back for a while anyway, so I decided to go over and figure out exactly what Florence was getting up to. After all, she was one of the only two people I could claim to know in this new time. Okay, maybe three, but I didn't want to know Michael, he had been a total jerk for not believing me.

Maybelle didn't even wait for me to open my mouth; she just skittered forward and grasped my hand in her two small palms. "You are a trainer," she babbled, her gray-brown eyes darting around my face anxiously, "so you must help her. Please, she is my only child!"

I squirmed, feeling way awkward. "Um," I mumbled, "of course I'd help if she needed it, I just don't think she does. I mean, she seemed fine yester–"

"No, no," she interrupted while shaking her head vigorously, which made several tendrils of hair escape from the messy bun she had pulled it back in. "You do not understand; she has not snuck off again, for I saw her leaving. I asked where she was going, implored her to stay, but she did not listen! She simply told me there was something she needed to see and left. That is not like my daughter, Trainer Monroe."

I wanted to argue that it seemed perfectly normal for Florence to ignore anything she didn't want to hear, but I did remember how she had seemed softer around her mother the day before. I frowned as I tried to think of a nice explanation that would make the situation better, maybe a comforting word or two.

"I would go after her myself," the woman whispered, her voice trembling, "but I cannot leave these grounds, not even for her. I am too great a coward." She sniffed, casting her eyes down, and I tried desperately to find an interesting-looking heap of sand that I could stare at so I wouldn't have to look at her. I had thought people only behaved this way in books or movies, really. "You wouldn't leave her alone out there if she was in trouble, would you, trainer?"

"Of course not!"

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I wanted to warp them, somehow, to say that of course I didn't want to but I had a lot of troubles of my own to deal with just then, so why couldn't she just explain this to the two nice trainers over that way while I escaped, thanks and goodbye. Unfortunately, life doesn't work that way.

"Oh, thank you!" she cried, smiling up at me in a teary way that immediately made me feel like a selfish jerk for not wanting to help. "I did see the direction she ran off in – south, towards the forest. She only left recently, so your majū should be able to track her with ease."

"Right." I looked back over the water, where Drowzee was now clinging to the Tentacruel's head and squealing as the water Pokemon flapped its tentacles around, generating medium-sized waves that turned the water rough and choppy. "Ease. Sure."

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

"I never heard that Drowzee were particularly good trackers," Michael drawled. We both turned back towards the two trainers, who had apparently stopped arguing at some point. Michael had his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, while Richard was standing with his hands on his hips.

The second trainer snorted as his mouth inched into a smile. "Ha! Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Well, I do want to observe the boy more closely," Michael snapped. "Besides, I have not surveyed the southern forests in quite some time. It would be a useful experience."

"If you hurt the boy, Michael, I swear –"

"Oh, do not become melodramatic." Michael turned towards the woman and nodded. "It is settled. Trainer Monroe and I will find your daughter."

I had been busy looking back and forth between the two, wondering when they had decided to stop hating each other, so it took me about five seconds to figure out what had happened. By then the entire village had sprung into action, calling out to each other for traveling supplies and the like as they bustled their way away from the shore. I was almost swept away with them before I managed to shout that I still needed to get Drowzee back, thanks.

Time moved too quickly for me to keep up with as Richard got my starter back on the shore, as one of the village women measured my limbs with a knotted rope and thrust a scratchy outfit at me (exclaiming at the 'fine sewing' of my jacket as she did so), as Michael pulled me along to collect food, emergency bandages, and flint, as people who had shunned me the night before suddenly clustered all around, giving Drowzee a bit of space but otherwise treating me like I was one of them.

In the midst of the chaos, I checked my pockets for my own supplies and found that my notebook was missing. Thinking back, I realized that Florence had had it last and started to form hazy conclusions.

"D'ya think Florence might've seen something in my notes that made her run off?" I whispered to Drowzee as soon as I could, unable to approach anyone else for advice. He waved his trunk ambiguously in reply, which I took to mean 'maybe, but what do you want me to say about it?'.

Then, far too quickly, Michael had said his goodbyes, Richard had slapped my back with a gruff 'good luck', and I was back on the road with the addition of an extremely useful bag of supplies and an entirely different person than I'd had with me before.

Michael didn't say anything at first; he just pointed out the appropriate direction and led the way while his Hoothoot flew quietly overhead. Drowzee and I followed close behind, silent as well. It turned out that Michael walked at a much more reasonable pace than Florence, to my great relief, so neither I nor my Pokemon got exhausted right away.

… of course, you can only walk in silence for so long before it becomes mind-numbingly boring. About an hour into the hike the plain started to fill up with trees, and I gave up on acting professional and started teaching Drowzee how to play I Spy. He caught on quickly enough and was able to make his guesses known by pointing and his choices clear by pantomime. Occasionally he'd just stare at me blankly when it was my turn to guess and I'd said something unusual, at which point I'd have to add on details upon details while he kept watching me with no expression whatsoever.

Michael tolerated this for around ten minutes before he abruptly stopped and turned around to glare at us.

"You –" he started, almost growling; then he sighed and started again in a dangerously patient tone. "Why, Trainer Monroe, are you playing children's games with your partner?"

I looked at Drowzee, and he looked back at me. "... 'cause I'm a child?" I ventured, scratching my ear.

"Clearly. However, you are a trainer primarily, and trainers must be mature, responsible, and useful," Michael proclaimed, tucking in his chin and staring down at me. "How is playing this guessing game supposed to help others?"

"I'm useful!" I protested, annoyed; when he didn't respond, I frowned. "Seriously! I mean, I... I can make all sorts of stuff. Practical stuff."

"Such as?"

I opened my mouth, about to brag about how I could (theoretically) make a working poke ball from scratch, but stopped myself when I realized that that wasn't the best example, given the situation. "Well... I could make us a compass, if I had a magnet."

Michael raised his eyebrows.

"I could!" I snapped, ignoring the fact that he hadn't said anything, and stomped past him as I glared at the ground. "And I am mature and responsible, especially for my age, so if you'd just give me half a chance –"

I stopped mid-stomp, balancing precariously on one foot while staring at the ground directly under the other. A Kakuna was lying there, its beady black eyes staring up at me. I wavered, trying to stay balanced, and ended up falling backwards in a heap. I could distinctly hear Hoothoot twittering somewhere behind me. Michael, on the other hand, walked up and stared down at the wild Pokemon with a vague and disinterested expression.

"Well then. It would seem that we've officially entered the Forest of Ilex."