SPENCER’S POV

As I opened my eyes, I let out the mother of all yawns. And I’ll admit it: At that moment, I would have been very happy to have my own mother right beside me, ready to wrap me in her arms and never let go. That would have been vastly preferable to my new reality.

No. Instead I found myself in the heart of a vast, unforgiving landscape, without any hint about where to go or what to do in order to get help.

The first evening, after trudging through the snow for an indeterminate length of time, I’d eventually called it quits. It’s not like I was going to have any more success at night than when I could actually make out my surroundings. Navigation was a fantasy in the land without light.

Failing that, my only choice was to bed down and hope for the best in the morning. But this prospect raised some doubts in itself.

Shouldn’t I try to stay awake? If I fall asleep now, if I even stop to REST, there’s every possibility that I won’t feel like starting again. And I CANNOT let that happen.

But my eyelids were growing heavy, and all I wanted was to wrap myself in a cocoon of blankets and forget about the sheer frigidity of the winter air. How bad could it be to imagine myself in bed, just sleeping in on a lazy Sunday?

Before going to bed that night, I’d tried my luck at making a fire. I’d seen enough episodes of reality TV to know that fire represented your life in the wild, and that when your fire was gone, so were you. And yet, much like having a comfy mattress to lie on, getting fire here was wishful thinking.

No matches or flint had been provided with our backpacks, so the next best thing I could do was to rub two sticks together and hope for the best. Before long, it became clear that this would only result in burning more calories that I wouldn’t be able to afford to lose before long.

So I went close to a deciduous tree and draped my legs around it. This was another thing Hunter had told us - if we were in the path of an avalanche, we should seize hold of a tree or any other solid object so that we wouldn’t be swept away by the slide. Even if this wouldn’t really help, it gave me peace of mind to have a tree trunk to embrace at each.

And so, in a position that would probably have looked awkward to an outsider (how else would you describe the appearance of making love to a tree?), I drifted off. Sleep was easier than you’d think, probably due to the chilly weather. Didn’t they always say it was easiest to sleep in a cold room?

I spent much of the next day trekking through the trees, hoping against hope that I’d find a hot spring or somewhere else to warm up. There was no telltale steam rising from the earth, nor were there any sources of food to satiate the hunger pangs that were slowly but surely rising within me.

Not for the first time, I cursed Hunter for his recklessness. Yes, if not for my poorly-timed bathroom break, I might have stayed with the group. But even before that, if our guide hadn’t thrown caution to the wind, I wouldn’t have been thrown to the Lycanroc.

But you didn’t have to follow him, part of my brain chastised me. And yet you did it anyway. You went into the woods with your friends even though you had every reason to feel unsafe. Why did you do that?

The answer came down to simple peer pressure, as embarrassing as it is to admit. By the age of twenty-one (possibly as old as I’d ever be), I’d thought one should be immune to it, and yet here we were.

I might never reach twenty-two.

Determined not to let that horrific prospect come to pass, I waded through the increasingly deep white stuff for hours. It did not matter how far I had to follow the trail - eventually I would find salvation. That’s what I had to believe.

In order to keep my balance, I stayed close to the trees. For reasons stated above, this also made me feel safer in the event that worse came to worst. But there was another hazard I had not considered.

I’ve said that the snow in the backcountry is akin to quicksand. Well, in this case the emphasis was on quick.

As soon as I set foot on this patch of snow surrounding an evergreen, I plummeted into darkness. “Fuck!” I shouted, not that I expected anyone to hear me.

Before long I reached the bottom of the tree well, having landed at an awkward angle. I didn’t think I’d broken anything, which I knew made me lucky. Yet I didn’t feel lucky, not least because I was at the bottom of a tree well.

Now what?

I shivered.Savage Pokémon living in the wild might be my only hope, but it would be foolish to rely on them. A swarm of Beedrill could easily take me down, not that they tended to survive in such cold environments. I shivered again.

I glanced at the walls around me. They were surprisingly firm, at least ten feet tall, and suddenly I understood precisely why it was considered so terrifying to be at the bottom of a well. Not only does it make you feel hopeless, but it’s also intensely claustrophobic.

So I let out an almighty scream, hoping that it didn’t cause more snow to fall and bury me further. (Was that a myth, anyway?)

Nobody came. Not for one minute, not for two. But after about the third minute had gone by, a little creature came over to the edge of the hole.

“Hey, Emolga!” I bellowed.

The Emolga folded its wings out sideways like a superhero’s cape. “What do you need, human?”

“I need your help” I snapped. “I need you to help me out of this hole.”

Despite my harsh tone, I forced a smile. Hopefully my teeth weren’t too yellow - a good first impression could work wonders, couldn’t it?

To my dismay, the Emolga glared at me. It was then that I knew the forthcoming answer would be in the negative.

“I think not, human. After all, you are a human.”

I gritted my teeth, which chattered from the cold. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why should I help you,” the Emolga retorted coolly, “when your kind haven’t extended the same courtesy to mine? Not even close. You humans have done nothing but trample over our environment for many generations.”

“But I’m not like most humans,” I promised.

It’s like all those climate activists say: Go vegan in order to save the planet. Well, if this Emolga rescues me, I’ll never eat meat again. Whatever it takes for me to live out the day.

The Emolga tapped its toes against the edge of the hole. “Give me one good reason to think that you’re not like most humans.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, humans are doing things to save the environment. Didn’t emissions decline by like three percent last -”.

The Emolga laughed cruelly. “With all due respect that your kind never grants mine, three percent is nothing! It’s purely performative! I’d almost rather you did nothing - at least that’d be less condescending!”

“But the rest of the humans aren’t like me” I stated. “If you get me out of here, I promise never to eat meat again.”

The Flying-type raised an eyebrow. “Do you really mean that?”

“Whatever you want! Just save me from this tree well!”

“Oh, so you’re only making these empty promises to save your own hide!” the Emolga asserted, venom in its voice. “It’s easy to be an environmentalist when your life’s the one on the line!”

“Shut up and get me out of here!” I exclaimed. “I promise!”

“You’re just like the other humans!” the Emolga yelled. “You’ve skipped the first two stages of grief, and now you’re bargaining with me! Tell me, human, have you ever thought about what Arceus wants?”

“I could care less,” I muttered.

“Well, you’d better care more, because you’ll be meeting Him soon!”

Those words sank in faster than my boots sank through the powder. “So…you’re not going to help me?”

“Of course not! Why the hell would I?” the Emolga shouted.

And then, to add insult to injury (or better said, to dig my grave further), the Emolga started kicking more snow into the tree well.

“Serves you right, human!”, it shouted as the snow settled in further around me. And then the Emolga flew out of sight (not that my line of sight was very expansive from this vantage point.)

I sighed, staring at the walls that seemed to be closing in around me. Now what?

It didn't take long to realize that if random wild Pokémon who found me in the forest wouldn’t give me any assistance, I only had one choice. It might be difficult, but would it have been any more difficult than persuading an Emolga to help?

Well, I kicked a foothold into the snow wall and hoisted myself into it. I repeated this process numerous times in order to climb the wall.

About halfway up I realized that I’d ditched my backpack in the hole. Should I go back for it?

No! I’m getting close to civilization - I have to be! I won’t need the supplies in there, and besides, that stuff’s useless now anyway. All I need is the beacon!

After exerting a lot of effort, I was able to heave myself out of the hole. Now I stood on solid ground - or rather, as “solid” as you can get when you’re in snow like this.

I shivered, belatedly realizing that the effort had resulted in sweat rolling down my back. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but if I took too long to find shelter, it would be.

I have to keep moving to stave off hypothermia and whatnot.

So that’s exactly what I did, keeping an eye out for any other Pokémon who might be able to help my situation.

Make no mistake: I was under no illusions that they’d assist me voluntarily. Rather, as soon as I found such a creature, I would follow its footsteps across the snow back to its den - maybe I’d be able to snatch some food. Yes, it was wrong to steal - that was one of the values I’d been raised with - but some things are okay when they’re done to preserve your own life. That’s what I told myself.

The hours ran by at a Rapidash’s pace. Before long, the surface of the snow shone with the sun, with the shadows growing in length. In other words, the day was waning, and sooner or later I’d need to find a place to sleep.

I laughed humorlessly as I cast my gaze around the glade. How was I going to bed down here of all places?

I can’t drape my legs around a tree again. I don’t want to risk falling down like that.

On some level, I could recall the concept of a “snow cave”, but I did not know how to build one; moreover, even if I had, there was still the problem of limited energy and light. And if i wasn’t careful, it was likely to collapse all around me.

In the end, I simply dug a “snow bunker” and called it a day. And I went to sleep, determined not to worry about my situation any more until morning came.

Without dreams, morning seemed to arrive almost instantly. Given how dark it still was, you could have convinced me that I’d only slept for less than an hour, but the stiffness in my joints told me otherwise. Assuming a standing position was a challenge.

“Okay,” I said eventually, not caring who heard me (or more likely, didn’t hear me). “What’s the move here?”

This isn’t Survivor. You’re not trying to build a resumé. You’re just trying to survive, so don’t be any flashier than you have to be.

After waiting for the sun to rise, I made one of the dumbest decisions of my life.

Now, before I tell you what that decision was, allow me to at least explain my rationale behind that choice. If nothing else, this may convince you that I’m not as much of an idiot as it may appear.

As soon as I made my way out of this particular tree thicket, I saw a ridge about three hundred vertical feet above me. It would require some traversing to reach, but if I was able to get there, it would be a lot easier for rescue services to find me. Even in the absence of a fire signal, someone was bound to notice the six-foot figure standing atop the mountain…right?

Okay. On paper, this decision makes sense. So stop laughing. Please.

In any case, “on paper” was the only place where this option turned out to be prudent. I began dashing through the snow, fervently wishing that I’d had a sleigh with me pulled by a Rapidash.

The newly risen sun cast an orange glow across the white surface, and I had to admit that it was gorgeous. As I ran, trying my best to sink as little as possible, I realized just how exhilarating this was. I was half-running, half-swimming, and while it took a lot of energy, there was something satisfying rather than horrifying about the situation.

The transceiver kept banging against my chest, but other than that, it was close to bliss. (“Other than that” does some heavy lifting here, admittedly; the device was a reminder of how dangerous the mountains could still be.)

After a while I was so warm despite the snow that I ditched my outer layer. The indigo jacket that had been specifically selected due to its absorbency in the face of the backcountry white stuff came off, as did my ski helmet. (I’d also brought a baseball cap with me for the uphill segments, though I no longer had it - it was with the backpack in the tree well.)

And now I was able to scamper through the snow without the risk of heat stroke. The day promised to be sunny and warm (well, at least by the standards of Sinnoh winters), and a broad smile made its way to my face.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But I wouldn’t be smiling for long.

A rumbling sound made itself known high above me, much like the vibration of a video game controller after an important event occurs in the game. However, this was far more intense - the very ground shook.

Had I been more in possession of my faculties, I would have known that the rumble was a sign that the snowpack at the summit was unstable and soon to break up. In other words, this was the prelude to an avalanche.

In reality, I didn’t think much of it until I’d run about ten more yards. The rumbling got louder and louder, and for the first time I began to envision in realistic terms what it might be like to be buried beneath several feet of snow.

Desperately, I sprinted forward, but the white stuff was unyielding. Well, technically it did yield, but not quickly enough. Not even close.

There’s no chance, I realized despondently.

Too late, I understood that leaving my backpack behind in the tree well had been an idiotic move. It might have been too late for the airbag’s deployment to make a difference, but it might have still given me a chance. Without it, I had no defense against the snow and ice cascading down the mountainside.

I crouched down, putting my hands in front of my face. Maybe I could dig out an air pocket once I was buried; this wouldn’t happen if I had no space to do so. And it might buy time until I was found.

Who am I kidding? I’m in the middle of nowhere - of course I’m not going to be found!

Failing that, I had no option but to accept my fate. Seconds after that realization, the coming shockwave swept me off my feet. I was just another piece of flotsam falling down the Coronet Range. Around and around I would go; where I would stop, I didn’t know. I might never know.

Tumbling such a distance takes longer than you think, and it’s as disorienting as you’d think. Before long I felt sick to my stomach, but I resisted the urge to open my mouth, because then I’d just inhale snow.

I don’t know how much time passed as I rolled over repeatedly, trying in vain to protect my ribs from each impact. It felt like forever, as though Arceus were taking His time to finish me off.

As my consciousness started to fade from the increasing pain, I vaguely recalled something I’d said the other day as I tilted my head skyward. What had I promised the King of Everything with, again?

That’s right…I’d proudly asserted that Arceus would not take my life. I’d stood on that mountain and announced that I would defy His will.

As it turns out, you could not fight Arceus’ will. One might as well try to resist the ocean; or, in this case, a giant torrential wall of ice.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

CALVIN’S POV

Before I’d left my house that day, my mother had given me a warning.

There’s been a lot of snow recently, Calvin, so make sure you carry your beacon so that the others can find you.

Now, it’s easy enough to assert that you’ll gladly defy a parent’s advice, even if it’s meant to help you. No adult wants to admit that they look to their mother for their advice above all else. So why would I?

Well, it’s simple: I wasn’t an adult. At least, not yet.

As long as I remained a Litleo, I felt free to frolic around in the snow as much as I wanted. That was a hidden blessing - a lining as silver as the light through the clouds that brought massive powder dumps on the Coronet Range.

As my mother had strapped the transceiver to my chest, I’d given her a kiss goodbye. Because she’d actually evolved, this was a difficult task for her; she had to lean over so that I could tilt my neck at the proper angle. But it had been achieved regardless.

Now I found myself trudging through the powder, using motions that closely resembled a Butterfree stroke one would associate with swimming. Sunup was my favorite time of day; the sky was gold, and the dew-covered grass smelled better than a rose during the warmer months…not that there were many “warmer months” here.

They said that there would be an increasing number of warm months, admittedly, in my village. Those fancy lions in what passed for lab coats would stand before us and proclaim that unless we reduced our emissions quickly, we’d see increasing amounts of snow melt.

But that’s good, right?, I’d naively enquired at one town meeting, allowing my voice to perk up. It’s too cold here.

One of the Pyroar scientists had smiled gravely. Unfortunately, Calvin, that isn’t the case. Yes, it will get warmer during the winters, but the trade-offs will not be worthwhile. For one, the loss of our alpine glaciers will impact our water supply.

The scientist had gone on to explain that not only did a warmer climate disrupt many of the processes we’d come to rely on as Pokémon, but also that disturbances would increase and be more difficult to adjust to. In other words, global warming was not good.

But things wouldn’t get too bad for quite a long time. In the meantime, I had a walk to enjoy.

The wind was in my fur, the exertion was giving me a slight appetite for breakfast later…if heaven existed, this was it. A winter hike in the Coronet Range might as well have been paradise. So you can take your tropical islands and all-inclusive resorts and get out of town; they’re not for me.

At one point, as I walked through the forest, I heard a chirping noise.

I frowned. While birds and smaller Pokémon were occasionally found in this ecosystem during the winter, it still wasn’t a very common sight. Typically, they would hibernate for most of the winter until the snow cleared; in the higher elevations, that could take until later in the spring. The glaciers, of course, never melted; but then, not many Pokémon lived there either.

Still, it wasn’t unheard of for birds to exist, so I didn’t think much of it as I carried on with my walk. Nothing was out of the ordinary; the hills were just more alive than usual for this time of year.

The next chirp, arriving a few seconds later, told a different story.

Maybe one of the birds is looking for food. That would at least make sense.

This time, something told me otherwise. That I had been completely wrong about what was happening. And that maybe I should think twice before dismissing the chirps as nothing to worry about.

It was then that I remembered that my transceiver had been set to Search mode before leaving the house. It was such an innocuous little detail, one that normally wouldn’t have mattered. But today, it might make all the difference.

I glanced down at my chest. Sure enough, the beeping was coming from the transceiver - it was telling me there was another beacon nearby!

My heart pounded against my ribcage, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that my formerly carefree morning was now anything but. With every step I took, the chirping became louder and more frequent, like a heart monitor spiking. (It would sound like a flatlining monitor once I reached the other beacon, my mother had taught me.)

It’s in this direction!

Still, locating the other beacon was no easy feat. You see, there’s a reason why I’d required my mother to assist me with donning the harness that came with the transceiver. And that reason is that I just wasn’t tall enough to do it myself.

In other words, I couldn’t see the arrow or the number indicating how many meters away the other transceiver was. I had to embrace the instinct and feel my way around.

How UNSPEAKABLY lucky is the ‘mon wearing that beacon? Not only am I also carrying one, but mine’s set to Search mode when it should be in Transmit mode! Is an oversight about to save a life?

A second stroke of luck had come into play now: I was facing the right direction, as the pace of the chirp was also spiking. Soon, it would sound like a flatline. Which, ironically, was a sign that I was about to save someone rather than losing them.

After another handful of steps, the beeping reached a fever pitch and was nearly constant. I elected to start digging right then and there.

Humans might have been depraved creatures at times (okay, at all times), but they had one advantage we quadrupeds did not: The ability to use a shovel. With four paws, this was a pipe dream, to say the very least.

That’s okay, though. Who needs a shovel when you’ve got grit, determination, and willpower in order to dig up this victim?

For a few minutes I scratched the surface of the snow, allowing that surface to fall further and further beneath my paws. A pile of snow grew around me, but I was making progress: I just knew it. The beeping grew even louder.

A minute or two later, I heaved a great sigh. Excavating an avalanche victim is easier said than done, and I was fast growing tired. Still, I could not rest, not even for a second - seconds is all the other beacon’s wearer had.

Eventually I found a red fleece and black strap. My own beacon, which had already been chirping at the volume of a fire alarm, was now so loud I felt at risk of rupturing my eardrums. Hope rose within me as I dug around trying to free the person’s face, but that hope was soon dashed when I saw the color of the being’s face.

It was blue. And I knew, based on what my mother had told me, that this meant the victim wasn’t breathing.

Don’t give up, Calvin! I silently commanded myself. If you were in the same position, would you want your rescuer to give up after unearthing you?

No. Of course not. I would never be able to live with myself again if I didn’t at least try to resuscitate the victim. So that’s what I did.

As I gave chest compressions, I tried to recall the rhythm I’d been taught. Wasn’t it to the tune of some song from the 1980s? Was that song by Billy Talonflame?

Eventually I also gave a rescue breath. Even if it was for a vital purpose, it still felt wrong to be “kissing” the victim. Especially since…

He’s a human! Yes, his hair’s a bit disheveled after so long in the forest, but he’s a human!

I didn’t let the second thoughts gain any oxygen. That’s what differentiated Pokémon from our human “overlords”; I would bring this young-looking man back to life, whereas the reverse was not true. I focused on breathing life into this cold body.

Just as I was about to give up, I heard the deep, even sound of someone’s chest rising…and then saw a pair of eyelids fluttering open.

“I’m gonna…’ the young man rasped.

I gestured to the side. “If you’re going to throw up the snow, lean over. Don’t do it while lying down; that can give you aspiration pneumonia or whatever.”

The man leaned over and retched a good amount of white stuff out of his diaphragm. (Admittedly, the snow was no longer white after it exited his body. Use your imagination to determine the color).

“You…saved my life?” he moaned once he was done vomiting.

I nodded. “Yes, I think I did. Count yourself lucky you were wearing a beacon.”

“Cool” the man said softly; seconds later, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped back down into the snow that had very nearly been his grave.

He was out cold now, but at least he was breathing. In a way, I’d done everything I needed to do. I owed him nothing more after his kind had been so disrespectful to mine.

And yet…I couldn’t just leave him lying there, completely exposed to the elements. Not after I’d gone through all that trouble, and besides, how would I live with myself afterward?

So I gritted my teeth and grabbed the man’s shoulder. He was surprisingly heavy, so it’s good that Pokémon are surprisingly strong.

Now what? How am I going to drag this guy down into the village? If someone has a sled or something, that’d be wonderful right about now.

You know what would be helpful? If I had a rope that I could connect to the beacon’s harness. Then I could pull him downhill!

“Hey, Calvin! What are you doing on the mountain’s face?”

I swiveled in the voice’s direction. However, I really needn’t have done so, because I knew that voice. The identity of its owner was obvious.

“Lucas! It’s you!”

The mighty white Pyroar came trudging up the hill. Given his size, he could not move as quickly as me, but this was hardly important when he wore an expression combining equal parts relief and anger.

“You shouldn’t be out here, Calvin. There’s been so much snow, it’s extremely dangerous to climb the hill. What did your mother say?”

I gulped. “She gave me permission…”.

“Well, good thing you’ve got your beacon on today. Looks like there’s just been a slide. My own beacon picked up a signal where you are, so I feared the worst…”.

I shook my head. “It wasn’t me - it was this person here.”

Lucas’ eyes grew to the size of dessert plates. And let me tell you: When Lord Lucas Pyroar wants something, very little will stand in his way. His expression was now one of grim determination.

“Did you dig them out?”

I nodded. “Can you bring a sled over here? I need to transport him to the village - he might be injured!”

“I’ll be back right away!” Lord Lucas asserted.

Two things about Lord Lucas, before you get to know him further:

One, Lord Lucas is his legal name. Don’t ask me why his parents gave him that extra designation - his parents would have that information, not me. But he wears the title well, and I’d consider him befitting of it.

Two, he was the village’s blacksmith. If you need him to do anything involving wood, metal, or straps, he’s your guy. It takes him seemingly very little effort to weave together the straps to create a harness for the annual sled race, or to use wood and nails to put one of the actual sleds together. His fine motor skills are impeccable, further granting him the title: Lord Of Blacksmiths.

While I waited for the blacksmith to return with what I needed, I glanced down at the human. For someone so vulnerable at the moment, he belonged to a race that had caused mine so much trouble. So much pain and suffering could have been averted if only humans had never existed.

And yet…maybe this was a chance to extend an olive branch. Maybe this one human would be converted to our side of the “debate.” If nothing else, I’d saved a life (even if that life would only create more ruin for my own).

My beacon still chirped even though the other one had already been found. I let out a great sigh and turned mine off. This precaution was unnecessary now.

A few minutes later, Lord Lucas came back with the sled. “We’ll use this to take him down to the village. Do you think you can take him in?”

I thought I’d misheard for a moment. “You mean… me?”

Lord Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yes, you. Who else would it be? Your mother’s a healer, is she not?”

I gulped. “Well, yes, but…”.

Any excuses I might make evaporated into thin air in front of this blacksmith. Moreover, I suppose this was part of the job; now that I had rescued the human, I had to make sure all of his needs were accounted for.

And Lord Lucas was right; this human probably would need healing. As I’d been told, avalanche victims often sustained other injuries besides those attributed to lack of oxygen. There were quite possibly internal wounds present, the likes of which only a mother’s touch could heal.

“Do you want to go ahead and inform your mother?” the blacksmith asked. “To let her know that company will be arriving soon?”

“No,” I insisted. “I’ll stay with you. I’m not going to let this guy go. I’ll catch him if he falls off the sled.”

Lord Lucas sighed. “I guess that’s the way it works out.”

So we trekked back to the village of Whitehall. (Yes, that was its name. Very creative, isn’t it?) Along the way, I noticed that many of the other villagers (at least, of the few who were outdoors at this time) were staring at us.

“I know you don’t like being the center of attention, Calvin,” the blacksmith muttered, “but you’ll have to deal with it this time. Lugging an unconscious human on a sled is bound to raise some eyebrows.”

Some of the Pyroar and Litleo gave us dirty looks. Others averted their gaze, perhaps trying not to appear disrespectful, but they weren’t fooling anyone.

Once we arrived at my house, a small log cabin near the edge of Whitehall, I noticed just how much additional snow had landed on its roof. To an outsider, it would appear at risk of caving in from the weight of the white stuff. In reality, the homes in Whitehall were built far more sturdily than they looked - their roofs could withstand quite a lot.

Lord Lucas knocked on the door. It only took a few seconds for my mother to open it.

My mother, a Pyroar only slightly smaller than Lord Lucas, gasped when she saw who’d answered the door. Her eyes were wide with shock.

“Lucas! What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Uh…” the blacksmith mouthed, his brain possibly having short-circuited as a result of my mother’s anger. (My mom is rarely angry, so whenever she does have a short fuse, it’s quite something to behold).

“It’s a bit creepy to come over unannounced, you know?” my mom continued. “All the ‘mon in the village will think you’re a stalker!”

“Well, Frala, I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t important.”

It was then that my mother glanced downward. At that point, her pupils dilated further (if that were even possible).

“A human! Where?”

Lord Lucas smiled weakly. “Your son rescued him from an avalanche. He’s breathing now - thank Arceus you had Calvin bring a beacon.”

“No kidding,” my mother replied. Then, stiffening up a bit: “You want us to take in a human?”

“Only temporarily” Lord Lucas clarified. “Eventually he’ll be able to leave the village, but for now we have to make sure he’s all right.”

My mom grimaced. “But why would we treat this human so well? They don’t return the favor - in fact, they hunt us for sport!”

“Mom, he’s harmless” I stated. “He’s too weak to do anything against us right now. You’ll just heal him and he’ll be on his way.”

“Maybe he’s harmless right now,” my mom responded, “but who knows what he’ll be capable of once he recovers? If the rest of his kind is any indication, he’ll put all of us in grave danger. Maybe he’s got a gun on him, or some other weapon that he’ll use to wreak havoc in Whitehall.”

“Frala, he doesn’t have a gun” Lord Lucas asserted. “In fact, the only thing on his person that could maybe be used as a weapon is the transceiver, which this human was fortunate enough to be wearing.”

“If he has any basic human decency, he’ll be grateful to you for healing him” I promised, not knowing whether this promise would actually be kept. “At a minimum, he’s not going to kill us.”

My mother snorted. “That’s the thing, Calvin: Basic human decency is an oxymoron. There’s no such thing!”

Lord Lucas sighed. “Well, Frala, you’re the best healer in the village. I could take this human to someone else, but…”.

I glanced up at my mother. The angle of danger (or rather, lack thereof) had not worked, so it was time to try a different angle.

“Look, Mom, I know you’re not a fan of humans. I’m not either. But if we throw this human to the Lycanroc, are we really any better than he is?”

“You’ve got to look at who started the conflict, though, between our two kinds - “.

“But your son’s got a point, Frala” Lord Lucas insisted. “We can't leave this guy hanging if we want to prove our moral superiority. Maybe, just maybe, this will convince humans that we Pokémon aren’t all savages whose only use is for trophy hunting.”

When my mother did not respond, the blacksmith continued to talk.

“Look, Frala, if even one human gets a positive impression of us, maybe something can change. After all, sometimes one being is all it takes.”

My mother and Lord Lucas stared at one another for a good minute. For a time, it looked as though one might pounce on the other.

Ultimately, the blacksmith peacefully won the staring contest, and my mother sighed. “Fine,” she said.

Lord Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Fine?”

“I will, reluctantly, take him in. I’ll heal him up. Hopefully he leaves the village amicably once he’s fully recovered from his ordeal.”

“Oh, he will,” I promised. Again, I was far from certain that I’d be able to keep this promise, but it hung in the air between us at least.

“I’ll do it,” my mother repeated. “But I want both of you two to know: My goal is to provide care, not to care.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Lord Lucas replied. Gesturing at the unconscious young man on the sled, he shrugged. “Probably good enough for him too.”

“Right,” my mother muttered. Turning to me, she said: “Calvin, you might want to go to your room.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because the healing spells require focus. A lot of it.”

Judging by the tone she used, I somehow felt that there was something else she wasn’t saying here. Something that would completely change the meaning of that statement. But I wasn’t going to pry.

As I made my way into my bedroom, the next words I heard from my mother were the following. At the time, I did not know whether they were addressed to me or the human.

“You’re going to be in for a surprise when you wake up.”