KAZ’S POV

The first thing the Lucario became aware of was a slight dizzy spell. He tried to open his eyes, but doing so took too much energy, so he just fell asleep again.

Some time later, Kaz woke up for good, gazing around at where he had ended up. And he thought my eyes were deceiving him - it no longer looked like he was in a dark kitchen.

Rather, the room consisted of wooden walls and a smooth-looking wooden floor. There were no carpets or counters to decorate it; the only furnishings in the room were a series of medical instruments that lay in the corner, as well as some right next to him.

I’m in the Whitehall hospital?

That was odd, to say the least. Kaz hadn’t possessed any Escape Orbs; there was no way he could have gotten out of the dungeon alone. As such, he had to be dreaming. There was no other possibility.

So Kaz closed his eyes once more. This time, sleep did not arrive as easily.

“Come on,” a familiar voice sounded, clear as a bell. “Are you really going to zonk out as soon as I enter the room?”

“But I’m tired,” Kaz muttered faintly, which could hardly have been more accurate. Although he’d lost quite a few pounds in that manor, his limbs felt like they were made of lead.

“Hopefully you’re not too tired to say hello to me” the voice said. And that’s when Kaz knew, without a doubt, whose voice it was. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t heard it in well over a week.

“Hestia?”

The Lucario’s eyelids fluttered open again, and now he was able to see his fianceé, Hestia Pachirisu, standing next to his hospital bed. Most of the time, Kaz towered over his betrothed to an almost comical degree, meaning that bending over to kiss her was quite difficult. But now, the roles were reversed.

“You idiot,” Hestia muttered.

Kaz gulped, realizing that he barely had enough moisture in his throat to do so comfortably. “What makes me an idiot?”

“Climbing Thunderhead Mountain, even with a small group, is pretty dumb. You’ve heard the stories about the radiation there, haven’t you?”

“That’s part of the appeal, though” Kaz mumbled. “Or at least it was.”

After that, Hestia’s expression shifted from one of exasperation to one of tearful relief. “You have to promise that you’ll listen to me in the future, okay? No more quests until I say so.”

Kaz moaned as he tried to sit up. He realized that there were a few stickers on his chest, probably measuring his heart rate. (Trace amounts of his fur had been shaved off for this, making him look more “civilized” in a bad way).

“Honestly, Hestia, I don’t feel like I’m in any condition to be questing any time soon,” the Lucario muttered under his breath.

The Pachirisu chuckled, though with very little humor. “That’s not surprising, considering that you haven’t had anything to eat in a long time. At least, that’s what Nurse Leyla seemed to think.”

“I didn’t,” Kaz replied, “because that damn food in the kitchen was so cruel.”

“Did it taste gross?” Hestia enquired. “I’ve never known you to be a picky eater, Kaz”.

“Well, I didn’t get to taste it. It vanished as soon as I came within striking distance of taking a bite”.

Hestia gasped. “You must be starving. But you’d better not eat too much at first - just some Kalos toast with berries. It’s right beside your bed.”

Kaz glanced at the table on the opposite side of his bed from the IV pole. Sure enough, a tray with a small plate of Kalos toast, as well as several Oran and Pecha berries on the side, lay on said table. His stomach rumbled as he realized that it was food. Glorious food, the type that wouldn’t vanish on the spot.

Right?

“Do you need any help eating?” Hestia asked Kaz.

The Lucario shook his head slightly. “I can do it myself. Just put the tray on my lap, please - I doubt I can rise like this.”

“I’ll cut it for you?” Hestia suggested.

“No. I’ll cut it myself. And then you can tell me - who rescued me? How did I get out of there?”

As Kaz took his first bite of the Kalos toast (which, for the record, tasted as though it had been cooked up by his fianceé), Hestia began filling him in.

“So Team Earthlink consists of Calvin Litleo, Spencer Litleo, and Enfield Emolga?” Come to think of it, he thought he vaguely remembered Calvin muttering something about saving a sorry ass. But he’d been groggy enough that he hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Hestia nodded. “They flew you out of the manor below a Drampa named Kemp.”

A wave of intense FOMO seized Kaz at that moment and refused to let go. He envisioned himself flying through the sky, spreading his arms like the wings of a bird, and shouting with joy. That had happened to him, yet he hadn’t been awake to enjoy it.

“They got to fly?” Kaz muttered. “That’s not fair!”

“According to Calvin, you were dead asleep. Don’t blame them.”

The Lucario grumbled a bit, then returned to eating his Kalos toast. It seemed crazy at first, but by the time he was halfway through his plate, he could barely envision himself finishing it. His stomach had shrunk to the size of a peapod.

“Yeah, you’re not used to eating that much,” Hestia muttered. “But not to worry. You’ll at least stay hydrated overnight - Nurse Leyla will make sure of that.”

“Right” Kaz stated, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit.

“I’m only allowed a few more minutes to visit,” the Pachirisu continued, “but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for calling you an idiot. I understand that you love having adventures like that, but…”.

“I get it,” Kaz replied. “You don’t need to be sorry - I was an idiot for getting too close to the mystery dungeon. You never know when you’ll get hit by a sleep dart.”

“Oh yeah, there’s one other thing,” Hestia said. “Something else I forgot to tell you?”

Kaz’s heart raced, to the point that he thought his monitor was about to go haywire. “What’s that?” he replied frantically.

Hestia leaned over the side of the bed and kissed Kaz’s arm. The Lucario blushed further, then smiled.

“That’s for being the best partner I could have asked for,” Hestia said softly. “Yes, I wish you weren’t so pushy about adventures, but life could be far worse, especially without you in it.”

“Thank you,” Kaz replied. “I love you very much as well. I’m so glad we can thank Arceus above for the opportunity to marry one another. And I’m not much a believer in fairy tales, but I really think we could live here happily ever after.”

Hestia snorted. “Kaz, you haven’t been awake very long. And you’re already being that romantic?”

“There’s something about still being alive that makes me want to marry you,'' the Lucario stated with a smile. “It’s really humbling to go through something like that - maybe family is what’s truly important in life.”

(Insert a horizontal line here)

SPENCER’S POV

When I faded back into wakefulness, it took a few moments for me to remember why I was so content at present. I’d slept without dreams, thankfully, but that wasn’t enough for me to be at such ease. In the life I’d grown accustomed to, the worst thing I could be was comfortable.

But here I was, relaxing in water that no longer felt scalding, but rather like a very pleasant bath that my mother let me take when I was sick as a kid. It brought to mind wrapping myself in a towel later and grabbing a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Once I opened my eyes, I remembered that I was not home.

“Oh, good, you’re up” I heard Calvin say. “I didn’t want to wake you - that would’ve been rude.”

It was then that I remembered the last thought I’d harbored before my nap. I gritted my teeth; how dare Calvin not acknowledge that wish, even if he hadn’t heard it!

I was still doing the dead ‘mon’s float in the middle of the hot spring pool. Snow was still coming down, though at a more gradual pace than it had on the mountain. However, I also noticed that the hot spring area was louder than it had been before I’d fallen asleep. The sounds were high-pitched squawks that I associated with parrots…or monkeys?

“We should probably head back,” Calvin told me. “It’s almost dinnertime. If you’ll notice, the lanterns have been lit.”

This was in fact the case; the sun had gone down. Though it wasn’t fully dark yet, there would soon be a copious number of stars in the sky, constellations that Enfield might have been able to memorize effortlessly, but that I would need to consult an Astronomy textbook for.

“Uh…” I moaned. “I don’t wanna leave this hot spring.”

“Well, you have to,” Enfield pointed out. “Some kids don’t want to take a bath - you don’t want to leave a bath. But you must; just because something is good doesn’t mean more is better.”

“Right” I muttered, rolling over in the water and paddling back to the edge of the pool.

The hot spring complex had indeed gotten more crowded. A group of Aipom were enjoying the nearest pool, laughing and joking about something. (That had been the source of the high-pitched noise).

“Yeah, let’s just let the snow monkeys enjoy their bath,” Calvin muttered. “They can be very…territorial, I would say.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. “So now we’ll head home for dinner?”

Calvin nodded. “That is exactly what we will do.”

With that, we dried off and began our hike back to the hospital. In the absence of any sunlight, the ground was very slippery, but luckily the strategically placed lanterns aided us in our efforts. It also didn’t feel as tiring as before - the bath must have worked its magic on me.

That’s what the Earth gave us.

“Did you hear that?” I enquired.

My teammates stopped in their tracks, swiveling around. We were all as silent as possible for at least ten seconds before Calvin scowled at me.

“Did you think you were going to make us look?” my fellow Litleo bellowed. “Spence, you don’t want to be the boy who cried Lycanroc!”

“I swear, I thought I heard something!” I exclaimed defensively. “Not a predator!” I clarified.

“Well, that’s a relief. If not a predator, though…what was it?”

“Someone whispered something in my ear…” I shifted awkwardly on the snow. “Something about what the Earth gave us.”

“Beats me,” Enfield shrugged. “Maybe you’re just hearing things, because I don’t think Calvin said anything.”

“I can confirm that I didn’t say anything,” Calvin added.

“Well, that’s just great,” I muttered. “Uncle Spencer’s losing his marbles again. I’m just going insane - you might as well lock me away in a loony bin.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?” Enfield mumbled, though even he seemed uncomfortable. Almost like he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“We’ll sort it out later,” Calvin said. “Right now, let’s head home. After we collect our reward, of course.”

Enfield moaned. “Can’t we collect our reward in the morning? I’m so tired and hungry…”.

“Let’s do it tonight if we can,” Calvin replied. “If we wait until the morning comes, we might forget about it.”

“We’re not gonna forget!” Enfield protested.

“I mean,” I responded eventually, “Calvin has a point. But maybe Hestia won’t want to be bothered tonight, as happy as she probably is to see Kaz again.”

As it turned out, all of this discussion ended up being moot, as a familiar Pachirisu sat in the clinic’s lobby, her legs folded. There were bags under Hestia’s eyes, but she smiled warmly as we walked up to her.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed.

“Of course we’re back!” Calvin replied with a grin. “How’s Kaz doing?”

“He’s resting now, just ate his first meal in a while” Hestia said. “Thank you all so much - actually, that sounds weak.”

“Weak?” I enquired. “What else are you supposed to say?”

Calvin stared at me, but then I cleared my throat and clarified. “I mean, you’re very much welcome. That’s what we do here at Team Earthlink, after all - we’re just three ‘mon with a link to Earth.”

Hestia snorted. “Is that your theme song or something?”

I heard Enfield gulp, his face flushing with what might have been self-consciousness.

“Well, if it’s a song,” she continued, “that song is so cheesy that I can practically feel my arteries hardening from listening to it. And I don’t even know the rest of the words!”

All of us had a good laugh at that, even Enfield. But we weren’t done with this conversation yet; my social stamina had to last a little while longer.

“So I promised you all a handsome reward if you rescued Kaz, didn’t I?”

I nodded, yet part of me had a sinking feeling that Hestia was about to wave us off and insist that she didn’t have to follow through on her end of the deal. (Sometimes I’m weird like that, okay?)

But Hestia smiled. “I’ll send the payment over to your bank vault.”

I frowned. “There’s a bank here? How have I lived in Whitehall this long and not known?”

Hestia looked a bit confused, but Calvin smiled. “It’s okay, Spencer. We’ll get our money in the morning. Thank you, Hestia.”

The Pachirisu smiled, her cheeks turning hot pink. “I am the one who should be thanking you, Team Earthlink. If you had not come along when you did, Kaz would still be in that manor. It’s been four days since you left, and I don’t think he could’ve let out much longer.”

Of course it’s been four days. That means we were in the manor for two days. Why am I not surprised by that?

“The wedding’s still on for the spring, right?” Calvin asked Hestia. “I’ll make sure it’s extra-special!”

“You don’t need to make it extra-special, Calvin,” Hestia murmured. “After everything, I’m just glad it’s happening at all.”

A moment later, Nurse Leyla entered the lobby wearing a stern smile. “Oh, you three are back,” she remarked. “How was your soak up there?”

“Wonderful, thanks” I said with a smile.

“That is positive,” the Pyroar replied. “Now, I’m sorry for breaking up this little party, but I think you should all head home. Everyone here needs rest.”

The Pachirisu glanced at Leyla with beady, pleading eyes. “Can’t we stay here? Or at least, can’t I stay here? Kaz is the love of my life, and - “.

“I’m afraid not, Hestia. I’m not asking; I’m demanding. And a doctor’s orders trump your desires. You can visit Kaz in the morning, but he needs the rest, and so do you.”

Hestia looked as though she were going to lash out at Leyla, but the Pachirisu evidently sized up the battle and decided it was a losing one. She sighed. “Yes, Nurse Leyla.”

“Wonderful. Good night, young ones.”

With that, we went our separate ways. Team Earthlink returned to Frala’s home, its abundant lighting a welcome sight after trudging through the deep snow in Whitehall proper. I saw a fire crackling in the hearth and a giant pot of something steaming on the stove, images that made it hard to choke back a sob.

My vision blurred as I stepped into the house. The perfect scene of domesticity was right before my eyes, so I should have been abundantly happy. And yet I wasn’t the only one present who possessed tears rather than smiles.

Frala was stirring the pot of what smelled like meatball soup, barely seeming to notice our presence. Her concentration didn’t shift to the three young Pokémon who’d just entered her home, but it also didn’t stay fixed on the stove.

“Add a pinch of this, a little of that…” she sighed. “And for the hot chocolate, I have to remember to put sugar in, not salt.”

“Mom?” Calvin announced. “We’re home!”

Frala visibly flinched right there, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have been convinced that she objected to the word Mom. As though it didn’t describe her.

“Calvin!” she mouthed, though with less gusto than I’d have expected. (I wasn’t a father yet, and if I had my way I’d never be. But I’d hope that if I ever did become a father, I would have been positively jubilant after my child returned alive from a dangerous mission.)

“It’s us, Mom,” Calvin continued, sounding as embarrassed as a high school student who’d just called their teacher that name. “We got back.”

Frala smiled, but her eyes told a different story. She sighed as she turned the stove off. “You’re a courageous, strong young ‘mon, Calvin.”

“Then why haven’t I evolved?” my fellow Litleo asked. At the time, and honestly even now, I did not know whether or not he was joking. But Frala took the question seriously.

“There are other ways to be strong, my son. You went to Mount Thunderhead and came back alive - I’d call that courageous.”

“But lots of ‘mon don't,” Enfield pointed out quietly. “Does that make them weak?”

Frala sighed yet again. “That’s a complicated issue, Enfield. In any case, dinner is served. Why don’t you all sit around the table?”

It was then that I understood why Frala seemed so wistful. Or at least, some of it.

She must have just realized that she’s an empty-nester now. It’s probably like how my mother felt when I went off to GPU for the first time, only more extreme. So she knows that there are only so many more meals she’ll share with Calvin under this roof.

But that didn’t seem like the whole story, somehow. As curious as I may have been, I couldn’t pry; that would be rude. So instead we all sat down at the table and allowed Frala to ladle us some delicious meatball soup.

The meal was very uneventful, considering everything that had led up to it. The three of us ate with gusto, considering that it was technically our first meal in at least two days.

“Spencer, did you just slurp loudly?” Frala enquired.

I glanced up from my bowl, blushing to no small degree. “Yes. I’ll admit it - I did. Sorry.”

“On the contrary, that’s a good thing. You’re supposed to slurp loudly here; that means you’re enjoying it! That’s a custom among Pokémon.”

“Really?” I asked, trying not to wrinkle my nose or feel ashamed.

Frala nodded. “I’m very pleased that you like the soup. If you want I can send you the recipe for when…”. She trailed off, her volume falling faster than a freight elevator whose chains had been cut.

The implication was clear. She’d been about to finish that sentence like so: when you all strike out on your own.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” Calvin replied in between slurps. “Thanks for the soup, Mom.”

Frala grimaced again at being called Mom, one of several small details during this meal that raised some question marks for me. The way she reacted to being called Mom seemed almost as though…she wasn’t one.

But that can’t be true! If it is, why did she submit to Calvin calling her that for so long?

I sighed, and I think Frala picked up on that. (I considered this yet more evidence that she knew how to be a mother).

“You must be exhausted, Spencer,” she said softly. “Not to worry - if you’re done eating, you can head right to bed. And in the morning, you can get your reward from the bank. How much was it again?”

Calvin gave his mother a slight smirk. “It was 8,500 P” he responded.

“That’s quite a hefty sum. With that kind of money, you could rent a place in town. They’ve got apartment buildings - most rescue teams in Whitehall eventually purchase one of them if they can.”

Enfield laughed nervously. “We like to do things our own way, though. Isn’t that right, guys?”

Calvin nodded, but I hesitated. When my fellow Litleo gave me an expectant glance, I followed suit.

“That’s right,” Calvin told his mother. “If you don’t mind putting us up for the time being…”.

“Why would I mind, my son?” Frala replied deeply.

But the word son appeared to carry an uncomfortable undertone, at least the way Frala said it. Something about her use of the word implied that it didn’t tell the whole story, that it was a necessary-but-not-sufficient word to describe her relationship with Calvin.

After we did the dishes, the four of us sat around the fireplace with cups of hot chocolate (I insisted on not having marshmallows in mine) and blankets. I curled up closest to the mantle, lying down more than sitting, but it didn’t matter - I sighed gratefully at being free from the snow for the time being.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“We could play a game,” Frala suggested. “Maybe Rummikub? Uno? Or even Monopoly, though it would take a lot longer?”

“I don’t know about a game,” Calvin sighed. “I’m pretty content to just lie here. The fire’s just so comfy.”

Frala winked. “Here’s the thing, my son: I’m not asking here. I’m demanding. Let’s play a game.”

There it is again: Son. It’s like she’s never said it before and is trying out the way it feels on her tongue. What’s up with that?

A few minutes later we were seated around the coffee table, each of us with seven cards in hand (or paw, as it were). Frala flipped over the top card, and the game began.

Uno isn’t a game that requires a lot of concentration, so I had plenty of brainpower to ponder the lioness’ body language. The way she looked at her son intently - almost stared at him - seemed very out of place for a mother. But it wasn’t like she was sizing him up as prey, either. Rather, it seemed she wanted fervently to remember what he looked like.

Eventually, Frala played a Wild Draw Four card against her son, and Calvin’s eyes lit up with what I call “fake rage.” The lioness proclaimed that the next color was yellow.

“Damn you to hell!” Calvin exclaimed. “I was one card away from winning - I’d just said uno last round!”

“Which is why I had to play that Draw Four” Frala retorted, giving her son a glare. “I couldn’t let you win too easily.” This seemed like code for I don’t want the game to end too soon.

After Calvin drew his four cards, I played the only yellow in my paw, and the game continued. To this day, I can’t remember who won the game, nor exactly how many cards the other three players held in their paws when it was over. To my oddly-wired brain, such details were of little importance.

What my memory glands value more is what happened after the game had concluded.

We’d gone back to the fireplace, and I’d curled up on the only rocking chair that sat by the hearth. I’d always loved these; there was something oddly satisfying about rocking back and forth, stimulating that desire for movement. (It was ironic that even with all that movement, any sport requiring lots of dexterity like baseball was my downfall).

I’d rocked back and forth for some minutes, allowing the gentle rhythm to lull me into a state of drowsiness. Sooner or later, I’d be asleep, and all my questions about Frala’s odd behavior would be deferred until morning.

But I couldn’t let that happen. If I slept the night away, I might not remember to ask. But did I even want to know?

“Hey, Frala?” I blurted out, opening my eyes at the last possible moment before drifting off.

The lioness’ eyes were the size of drink coasters. She’d evidently thought I was already asleep; nonetheless, she smiled.

“Had a bad dream?” she asked facetiously.

“I’m wide awake” I said with a yawn, basically contradicting those three words. Nonetheless, I continued. “I had a question.”

“What’s that?” Frala sighed. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and for the first time I wondered how she’d felt with all of us away. (Honestly, did I even have to wonder?)

“You seemed very…” I trailed off, not knowing if I should continue. But I was already committed, much like when you’re driving toward a green light that’s just turned yellow. “Wistful, I should say.”

“Wistful?” the lioness replied. “I mean, yes, I suppose. But that’s only natural, isn’t it?”

None of us responded. Did we really need to?

“I mean,” Frala continued, “it’s difficult to accept sometimes that your life is about to change. I’m going to be an empty-nester before long once you’re all doing your own thing.”

“Right,” Calvin mouthed. “That’s why you wanted to play a board game tonight, I guess? Because you wanted to savor your time with us before you…can’t do it anymore?”

The lioness nodded, making a sound midway between a sigh and a yawn. “I suppose that it could be worse. It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. And I guess I could consider you a bonus, Calvin.”

My fellow Litleo gasped. “A bonus?”

Frala grimaced. “I didn’t know if I should tell you this. But you were going to figure it out sooner or later anyway; it’s better to hear it from me.”

Enfield squirmed a bit in his seat. “What do you mean, Frala?”

The lioness paid the Emolga no mind. “Calvin, you know that your color scheme is different from mine. You’re not a white Pyroar like the rest of Whitehall.”

“Yeah? So what? I guess I’m special” Calvin replied with a smirk. However, that smirk was soon wiped clean off his face.

“You never knew your father, Calvin. But there’s a reason for that; you don’t have a father. At least, not that we know of.”

My fellow Litleo, whose fur was indeed far more colorful than his mother’s, now blanched as though he’d now joined the vast majority of Whitehall. “So you’re saying…did you use IVF? That thing where you put your eggs in a tube or whatever?”

“No,” Frala replied. “I mean, that’s a good guess, but not in this case.”

There was an awkward silence, with tension so thick that even a machete would have proven woefully insufficient.

“I can’t believe I’ve never told you this,” the lioness murmured. “But Calvin…you’re adopted.”

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FRALA’S POV

I’m not your average lioness. Most Pyroar manes come “painted” in a rainbow of warm colors; those living in Whitehall, Sinnoh are an exception to this rule. However, I harbored a secret that set me apart from even the white lions up here.

I didn’t learn about this secret until I was twenty-one. In hindsight, it’s hard to know whether I’d rather have learned the truth at a younger age. If I had, perhaps it would have been easier to accept. But forget about that for now; let’s get into the story.

Much like Calvin, I never knew my birth parents. According to the elderly Borden Pyroar, who raised me, they were both adventurers who explored mystery dungeons for the three G’s: Guts, Gold, and Glory. They were not a rescue team; they were strictly on a hunt for these three treasures, and they would not rest until they moved up the ranks.

Whoever told me that story probably meant for me to see it as an inspirational tale, as in: Look how brave your parents were! You should be proud to have their blood running through your veins! But that’s not how I saw it. My parents were selfish explorers, only doing it for material gains rather than an internal drive to explore the most fascinating places this world had to offer.

They didn’t even rescue any stranded explorers; therefore, they were the type of Pokémon to land themselves in such danger that they’d end up requiring a rescue themselves. Needless to say, this expended countless resources that could have been put to a more productive use.

Well, one day, according to my adoptive father, my parents left for a trek up Mount Thunderhead. It was just for fun, he said, not that I’d consider such an adventure fun. In the pursuit of this “fun”, my parents had gone missing. They’d never been found, and to the best of Borden’s knowledge, their remains were still on the mountain, preserved by the radiation.

“Then why has nobody found them?” I asked, to which Borden would simply shake his head.

“Arceus works in mysterious ways, you know” he’d say. But in my experience, this was usually a euphemism for Stop asking hard questions.

Still, when the person telling you to stop asking questions is your parent or guardian, you learn to shut up eventually. That’s exactly what I did.

That’s not to say that Borden didn’t raise me as well as he could. He no doubt knew I had questions about my past, but he made me understand that he couldn’t field them without dredging up some very uncomfortable memories. So I had to accept his explanation.

In the meantime, I had a childhood to live. We had a beautiful cabin on the edge of the forest, one in which I still reside today. I would walk to the schoolhouse every day and, although I was far from a social butterfly, I still had a few friends. I’d sit in class all day, longing for when I could go outside and enjoy the fresh mountain air. Life in Whitehall was simple and pure.

On some level, I knew that this likely wouldn’t last forever. That our way of life was under attack. That’s all they talked about at the town meetings that Borden insisted I attend from an early age.

“But I don’t understand it!” I’d sometimes object, but this would get me nowhere.

“That’s all the more reason to watch it,” Borden would retort. “You need to engage with the community, and you need to be informed on the issues. After all, they impact all of our lives.”

So I would sit in the high school’s gymnasium and listen to the town meeting. It needs to be said that everyone participated in these meetings - well, not everyone, but there were no elected officials in Whitehall save for the mayor. Everyone else was appointed by lot to lead the conference; according to Borden, this was how humans organized their jury duty system.

Speaking of humans, they were not good news.

As far as I could gather, the presentations were about how Earth’s temperature was gradually increasing year to year. This was not cause for celebration, though, because it would lead to more unpredictable weather patterns, including hazards such as wildfires, storms, and insect outbreaks that jeopardized our beloved forests.

And there were even more threats than that, because humans had it in for us Pokémon. According to the conference’s speakers, humans strived to earn hunting permits so that they could legally kill us for our fur, for food, or just for fun.

“But isn’t murder illegal?” one of my friends, Maisie, piped up from beside me. Evidently her parents had also forced her to attend this event.

“As far as humans are concerned,” one of the speakers, a middle-aged Pyroar man, told the room, “it only counts as murder if a fellow human is killed. If one of us harmed a human in self-defense, we’d be ‘lucky’ merely to get our day in court!”

“And to be clear,” another speaker (an older Pyroar lady) announced, “our resistance should be nonviolent. We must be better than the humans - two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“But still,” Maisie continued. “Why do they hand out permits to kill us? That’s just not right!”

“Because humans are cruel, and they see us as beneath them” the first speaker muttered through clenched teeth. “They will rationalize it however they can. But if they see Pokémon as subhuman, they should really look at themselves in the mirror, not that humans are that good in general.”

Needless to say, that meeting rattled me more than I liked to admit. When we returned home for dinner, Borden must have picked up on my anxiety.

“What’s wrong, Frala?”

“They mentioned that humans could get permission to kill us,” I replied tearfully. “And that it wouldn’t even be considered a crime. That’s just not right!”

As I uttered those words, I couldn’t help but picture myself ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time and making an early departure from this world. That mental image nearly released the waterworks.

“I know,” Borden replied, wrapping me in his tight embrace. “It’s very upsetting. I understand completely.”

“But you’ve already lived so long” I all but whined. “Didn’t you say that when you get to be old, it’s just like going to sleep after a really long day?”

“How should I know?” Borden muttered with a chuckle. “I haven’t died yet.”

“Plus, getting shot isn’t like going to sleep and never waking up” I continued, sniffling. “It’s like…a pretty horrible way to go!”

“I know.”

It needs to be said that I was about ten years old at this point, and I asked a question that could easily be considered childish. But I still wanted to know.

“Am I going to die, Borden?”

The old Pyroar sighed. “Everybody has to die one day. At least, that’s what they all say.”

“I mean, now. Because of a hunter” I gulped. I didn’t want to say Because of a human, but that was the obvious implication.

“I’ll protect you,” Borden promised me. “I’ll always be here for you.”

(This was a bold-faced lie. Yes, Borden was in great health for his age, but he was still on the older side. There would come a day when he’d be gone, I just knew it).

“You see,” he continued after a brief pause, “I want to live forever.”

Like most ten-year-olds, I didn’t give much thought to what living forever would really mean. Immortality sounds pretty awesome to the untrained mind, doesn’t it? To ten-year-old Frala, living forever was a fantasy that I’d welcome gleefully if it were true.

There was just one problem.

“It’s not true,” I said tearfully. “You can’t live forever. It’s not possible.”

Borden winked at me. “How do you know that?”

“Because it just isn’t. If it is, why aren’t my parents here anymore?”

Predictably, Borden didn’t have an answer to that, at least not a satisfying one. He just shrugged and said, “Arceus works in mysterious ways.” And predictably, I stopped asking.

Over the next several years (several meaning seven), I didn’t think too much about the old lion man’s claim that he would live forever. Yes, he may have wanted immortality, but we want a lot of things we can’t have.

Borden did not live forever. The day after my seventeenth birthday, I came home from high school to find the village coroner in front of the door, blocking my way inside.

The coroner told me that my adoptive father, the Pyroar I’d grown so close to, had died several hours prior. At that point, my knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground. Borden might not have had eternity, I remember thinking, but surely he had a little longer left in him?

After all, my birthday had been the previous day, and he’d seemed more alive than ever as he threw a party for me. He’d used all of his lung capacity to blow up a series of balloons, and he’d even baked the most delicious cake I’d ever eaten. People like that didn’t just die the next day.

But then the coroner explained that Borden had suffered a heart attack. It had all happened so fast, there would have been no chance for him to survive even if he’d been right by the village hospital. Even a defibrillator would not have saved him.

“Can I go see him?” I enquired. He might not know I was by his side, but it still felt like I should pay my respects however I could.

The coroner shook his head. “First of all, you wouldn’t be seeing him, you’d just be seeing his body. Also, the answer is no. He opted for cremation, which has already been done, and his ashes have been spread already.”

“Cremation?” I enquired. “He never told me anything about that.”

“Well,” the coroner, a buff Pyroar man who probably spent his days chopping wood, replied, “few ‘mon like to admit that they’re going to die one day. He probably planned his cremation long ago and never discussed it with you. I’m sorry.”

Honestly, cremation always sounded preferable to burial. Not only is it more environmentally friendly (not that I’ll care when I’m dead), but it offers a way to still be “present” in your favorite places. If my children would scatter a little of me here, a little of me there, and a little into the sky, I’d be part of the world again. From the Earth we all came, and to the Earth we will all return.

Still, I can’t say that I was pleased to not be allowed to see the body. Even if it might be creepy, I felt that it’d still have granted me some closure that I was left without now.

I wasn’t permitted to attend the funeral either. Apparently this is what Borden had requested - his death would not be marked by a fancy ceremony, but rather by solemn reflection on his life. Neither did the whole village take part, something I found surprising given just how active he’d been in the community.

Following Borden’s passing, I elected to honor his memory by attending more town meetings. This is what he’d wanted, after all - for me to be more civically engaged. Be the change you wish to see in the world - that’s what he’d always taught me.

During the waning days of my adolescence, I graduated from the local high school, and my friend group got considerably smaller. Perhaps people pitied me for having lost Borden, but the more important factor was likely the odd things that kept happening around me.

One day I came home from a walk to find my bed already made. I gasped at the sight, knowing that I couldn’t possibly have had the presence of mind to do it that morning. Plus people around me claimed that being around me felt healing.

“Isn’t it always healing, though, to have friends?” I asked Barbara, one of the decreasing number of Pyroar who remained part of my inner circle.

“Well, yeah, but you’re even more healing than the rest of them,” Barbara told me. “It’s like, when I’m around you, it seems like all my worries melt away.”

I didn’t think much of this response. Perhaps Barbara was just trying to butter me up through the grieving process for Borden. That would at least make sense, though it would be hard to accept that she only remained my friend out of pity.

Another odd event happened when I cut myself while chopping the celery to make meatball soup. (Of course, this was not real meat - it was fake meat that grew in a Petri dish, not a “peach tree” dish.)

A flap of flesh opened, the type that I instinctively knew was difficult to close without stitches. But I was far from a medic - I would need to go to the clinic, wouldn’t I?

However, after silently willing the wound to close, it happened. Within seconds, the area that had been red and bloody just before was now a pale pink. It was as though invisible, unfeelable stitches had been applied - maybe Arceus Himself had closed the wound.

In the interest of not injuring myself on purpose, I didn’t test this ability any further. Really, I didn’t see it as an ability - it was just something that happened to me that I couldn’t explain. But “I don’t know, therefore magic” would hardly hold up in court, even among Pokémon.

I became increasingly lonely, and the house was about three sizes too big for me. After one evening during which I nursed a paper cut (which vanished within seconds), I decided that I’d give dating a try.

Mating season in Whitehall, like many other festive events, begins in the early spring. During that time those Pokémon in search of a partner are eager to celebrate the melted snow and the wildflowers that are starting to bloom.

Supposedly some of the wealthier humans hold fancy balls in order for just one of their own to find a romantic partner. That’s not how it works in Whitehall. Instead, there’s a celebration on the main village green just a few days after the equinox at which all the prospective brides, grooms, and non-binary love-seekers are invited. A giant picnic is served, catered by one of Whitehall’s most popular restaurants (The White Lion), and many match-making games are played.

I’d always watched the festival from a distance, but during the spring when I was nineteen, I elected to participate. I met a young man named Falco and we hit it off pretty quickly. He sounded so sweet at the event, so how could I not be entranced by him?

To make a long story short, we began dating, and the relationship moved fairly fast. (At least, I thought it was escalating quickly; it’s not like I had any other relationships to compare it to.) Before long, we were trying for a child.

After multiple attempts for me to become pregnant, the tests still turned up negative.

“I don’t understand,” I said tearfully. “It should work!”

“Then go to the doctor and find out what’s wrong,” Falco snapped. “You shouldn’t be turning up empty after all this time!”

What he meant was: Your belly shouldn’t be turning up empty. This should have been a red flag if there ever was one, yet I still hesitated to leave him. After all, he treated me so well most of the time - he picked me so many wildflowers that summer, he took me out for meals at the White Lion…whenever we weren’t talking about a potential pregnancy, he was amazing.

At the village hospital, Nurse Leyla ran a series of tests to find out why none of the eggs were taking shape within my uterus. Eventually, she walked into the room with the sorriest expression I’ve ever seen her wear. She might as well have been delivering a diagnosis of terminal cancer.

She’s got that look.

Leyla sighed, looking so much older than her true age. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this is never good news.

Sure enough, the nurse’s first words were, “This is going to be hard to hear.”

“I can handle it,” I insisted. “Whatever it is.”

Leyla grimaced, scraping a paw against the floor. “We did a scan of your body, and it turns out that something’s missing.”

“Yeah, the egg,” I stated. “Or rather, the fetus. Yeah, I’m not pregnant, and that’s the problem.”

“It’s not just that, Frala. It seems that you don’t have any ovaries.”

I gasped. “Don’t…all females have those?”

“Not necessarily. Some females must have them removed for one reason or another, such as if they have ovarian cancer. In your case, they are clearly gone - it’s a wonder that you don’t have any scars from taking them out.”

It was on the tip of my tongue. Maybe I don’t have any scars due to this mysterious healing power I seem to have been blessed with. If there was one ‘mon I should feel comfortable sharing this news with, that would be Nurse Leyla!

But I couldn’t bring myself to reveal that. As tears filled my eyes and nose, it occurred to me that I had no emotion to spare.

“So without ovaries…”.

“You’ll never be able to become pregnant. Yes, that’s what I am saying” Nurse Leyla continued. “Again, it’s hard to accept that you’re infertile, but there is always adoption.”

Some Pokémon talk about childbirth as being a miracle from heaven above. From what those who’ve given birth tell me, labor is far from a pleasant experience. Neither is caring for an infant of any species - that’ll keep you up half the night, guaranteed. But I can’t deny that I wanted a child - just because something is difficult doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.

Falco was less than pleased when I arrived at home. (He’d moved into my house. Yes, in a few short months, our relationship had progressed that far).

“You’re infertile?” he bellowed. “That’s the truth? You’re actually infertile?”

I nodded, trying not to cry. I didn’t want to show weakness to anyone, least of all my boyfriend. As much as I liked, maybe even loved him, it just wouldn’t do…

“That’s it!” he shouted.

I braced for him to slap me in the face. He hadn’t used sticks, stones, or paws, but believe me: Words could hurt just as much as a physical attack.

But Falco did not do this. Instead, he turned tail, ran out the door, and slammed it behind me so hard that I half-expected it to swing right off its frame.

It’s worth noting that I’m still one of the lucky ones. Partners like Falco are far from guaranteed to leave you “peacefully”, and not all of them will respect a restraining order against them. In my case, I was lucky, and Falco hasn’t tried to contact me since. The moment he learned that I wasn’t going to bear him a child, he lost all interest, and I couldn’t be bothered to figure out why he only saw value in me for my reproductive potential.

And yet, like a potent seasonal allergen blowing on the wind, the news spread faster than I would have liked it to. Nobody had to tell me they knew I couldn’t bear children, because the looks I got from many of the villagers were proof enough.

At first, the glares were those of sorrow, of pity. Even if I didn’t love being pitied, my onlookers were at least trying to be kind to the poor young Pyroar lady who’d never get to experience the sacrament of childbirth. I had to cut them some slack for that reason alone.

However, after a couple of weeks, the attitude in the village shifted. Most people either actively averted their eyes or pointed at me and gasped.

I’ll give Maisie credit; she stuck by my side during this ordeal. My childhood friend remained single, and she’d even tried to tell me that Falco wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. (As head-over-heels as I was, she might as well have been talking to a brick wall.) One day I decided to thank her for this.

So I paid her a visit, walking up to her home and ringing the doorbell like I would have when we were children having playdates. But we were adults now, and this was no playdate.

Maisie came to the door within five seconds. My fellow lioness always understood me, and she knew that I usually didn’t come over unannounced. Therefore, she probably guessed (correctly) that something was wrong.

“Frala, it’s you?” she asked.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not hallucinating. Who else might it be?”

“Good point. It’s just that you usually send me a memo before you come over. But what’s going on?”

It must be said that although she and I remained close, Maisie had far more friends among the rest of Whitehall than I did. While I tried not to resent her for this, there were days when that proved a losing battle.

“Let me in, and I’ll cut right to the chase” I muttered.

Over a plate of shortbread cookies, I told Maisie about my breakup with Falco, at which she snorted.

“I told you that ‘mon was trouble,” Maisie muttered. “He wasn’t to be trusted. I’m glad you did the right thing by dumping his ass.”

“Thanks” I replied. “But that’s not the only thing I wanted to discuss.”

Maisie almost spat out her bite of cookie. “Yes?”

“You see,” I continued, “the rest of the village is treating me like I have the plague. It’s like, I’m infertile - that’s not contagious last I checked.”

When Maisie nodded, I continued. “They have to understand that my life is hard enough as is. I’m never going to have kids, assholes like Falco are going to treat me like shit when they learn that - which won’t be long now, because that’s all I’m known for!” I was practically wailing by the end, and Maisie handed me a box of tissues.

“That’s not all you’re known for,” Maisie told me. “You’re my best friend.”

“But you’re just one ‘mon” I cried, blowing my nose. “There are a lot more in Whitehall who treat me like a witch.” (Maisie did not yet know about my healing power, and I intended to keep it that way.)

“That is true,” Maisie admitted. “But look, you ditched that fucker - “.

I sighed. “Correction: He ditched me. But okay.”

Maisie sighed. “Look. As two women of Whitehall, who used to make friendship bracelets out of whatever spare bits we could find in the forest, I think I owe you transparency. Do you want to know why they distrust you?”

I gulped, but nodded. “I can handle the truth, Maize.”

“Well,” Maisie continued, “you’ve heard of Syndicate 23, right?”

Of course I’d heard of Syndicate 23. It seemed sometimes that this was all they talked about at our periodic town meetings. Those poachers were up to no good, determined to sentence us all to a little sudden death. And to what end? Why, using our fur as jackets and rugs!

I nodded, because what else was I supposed to do, and then Maisie frowned. “You don’t want to hear this, do you?”

Then I gritted my teeth. “I can handle this, Maisie,” I said under my breath.

“Very well. The villagers - those who distrust you, at any rate - “.

“ - which is a majority of them.”

“They seem to think you’re working with Syndicate 23. It’s no wonder you’re infertile; in their eyes, Arceus is punishing you for what you’ve done.”

I gasped audibly, probably even more so than Borden when he had his heart attack.

“But that’s insane!” I yelled, stomping a foot so powerfully that the plate of cookies fell off the coffee table. It descended to the floor in an instant, glass and shortbread shattering into a million pieces upon impact.

“I know it is,” Maisie replied. “But us Pokémon aren’t immune to conspiracy theories. If the humans can storm Sinnoh’s Capitol building thanks to a big lie, then some Pokémon here can believe that you’re shady. Can, not should.”

I glared at Maisie, trying to control my temper. I could not lash out, no matter how tempted I may have been - she was on my side.

“Why would I betray my own species like that?” I gasped.

At that very moment, I recalled the conversation I’d had with Borden about death. He’d tried to comfort me, but all I could think about was getting taken down by a sniper rifle, all so that a poaching syndicate could make a quick P. (Oh, sorry - a quick buck in human currency).

The point is, why would I impose upon my own kind (Pokémon) the very fate that I feared so much? That’s not how I’d been raised, and neither, I’m sure, had the other villagers been taught to violate the golden rule.

“I do not know,” Maisie replied. “Ask them, not us.”

“But you don’t think I’m colluding with them?” I asked frantically. If I couldn’t trust Maisie, I couldn’t trust anyone.

“Well…no.”

“You hesitated,” I mouthed. “You hesitated! That implies you’ve got some reservations about saying no.”

“Truth be told,” Maisie admitted, “I don’t know what to believe sometimes. There’s so much information out there, I can’t know what’s true or false.”

I glared at her. “You sound like the humans who try to convince themselves they’re not destroying this planet.”

“But can you really blame me? All they have to do is to plant that one seed in your mind, and then it balloons into a forest. That’s how these theories spread.”

How could this be? Maisie Pyroar, my closest confidant now that Borden was gone, doubted me! She’d given herself over to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I’d chosen to turn my back on Whitehall and collude with an organization that was determined to hunt all of us to extinction. As if they wouldn’t turn their rifles on me as soon as they were done!

If she could believe that, what wouldn’t she consider? And what was more, most of the other villagers were further along the road of delusion!

“Don’t fall for it, Maisie!” I exclaimed. “You’re not supposed to think such things about me. You’re my friend!”

For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look she gave me. It was not one of pity, exactly. Rather, it was one of resignation, as though she’d accepted that she would need to cut ties with me and no longer felt sad about it.

I’ll also never forget her next two words, which felt like a bullet to the brain. The only difference is that if you get shot in the cranium at point-blank range, you won’t suffer very long if at all. After these words, I might never stop suffering.

“Am I?”