SPENCER’S POV

It had been three months now.

Three months, that is, since I had come across Whitehall Village and become Calvin’s teammate. And in some ways, it was nearly impossible to believe it had truly been that long. It seemed like only yesterday that I’d woken up on that couch being spoon-fed synthetic meat stew.

Of course, in many other ways, the passage of time was evident. The major snowstorms that periodically blanketed the village decreased in frequency and intensity. It was sometime in March when the first grass became visible, and later in the month most of the snow had melted.

March brought many adventures. I got to attend a wedding, for one. Yes, it wasn’t my own marriage, but it was still quite an accomplishment when I’d gone stag to senior prom. And I took that priest’s words to heart: If we had as much time as we wanted to do whatever we wanted, then it would be far less valuable. The arrival of spring, while cause for celebration, was yet another sobering reminder that the good times were fleeting.

After the Pit of 100,000 Spiders, none of us were eager to enter another mystery dungeon any time soon. As such, when spring began in earnest, Team Earthlink began taking on more ordinary acts of kindness.

This included planting berry bushes and gardening, a job that might not sound that satisfying, but that’s because you haven’t tried it yet. There was something oddly rewarding about digging your paws into the dirt just deep enough to plant the bush, then drop it in and watch the fruits of your labor grow. Even if the growth was a slow process.

Every night I went to bed tired, sore, and ready to sleep, but in a good way. I was earning my keep as part of the guild, and sooner or later Agarth might actually be happy with us. And on some level, I began to suspect that I’d never again return to my human form…and that was okay.

On the first day of April, I walked with Spencer to our work assignment for that day, a gardening task. It was during this walk that the unexpected happened.

Lord Lucas stood outside his blacksmith shop, grinning from ear to ear. His tail wagged like an excited younger lion (though I had no idea how old he was).

“Hey, Team Earthlink!” he announced, prompting me to glance in his direction.

“Next time, I’d like you to tell me if you’re about to suddenly shout!” I exclaimed.

“Sorry about that,” the blacksmith said. “I’m just so excited. The special day looks a hell of a lot closer than it did before today, doesn’t it?”

Enfield frowned. “What special day?”

Lord Lucas snorted. “What special day would it be other than the day of the annual Whitehall Sled Race? It’s on April 17, two weeks and two days from today - you two should enter!”

I narrowed my eyes. “Which two?”

“Calvin and Spencer, of course!” the blacksmith asserted. “I’m sorry, Enfield, but your ability to fly would give you an unfair advantage, and an unfair advantage is not to be tolerated in such a competition.”

Enfield sighed. “I get it.”

“But I don't,” I muttered. “I’m not in the best shape, especially as a Litleo. Is this an April Fool’s joke, Lucas?”

“That’s Lord Lucas for you.”

“Sorry - Lord Lucas” I replied. “You know I’d have no chance at this. All I’d do is drag Calvin down!”

The blacksmith shrugged. “I mean, sure, it’s ‘only’ been three months,” he acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. If you never try, you’ll never know.”

My heart sped up as though I were currently running the race, as I could scarcely believe what Lord Lucas was telling us. Spencer Teller Litleo, Athlete?

“This must be a mistake,” I sighed. “Are you sure you’re not pulling our legs?”

“Not remotely” Lord Lucas said. “But if you want to enter, I’d recommend you start training for it right away. Really, you should’ve been doing it last week.”

I glanced at Calvin. To my chagrin, my fellow Litleo’s ears were perking up, and I feared he might actually be taking the blacksmith seriously. These fears were confirmed seconds later.

“I think we should enter, Spencer,” he told me.

It took me a moment to think of a witty comeback. Calvin was practically saying: We will win! Arceus knows me, and He knows I’m right!

But it didn’t come. Instead, Calvin grinned and said the following: “It’s just like he’s telling us. You miss all the shots you don’t take.”

“But is this a shot we want to take?”

Lord Lucas winked. “The worst thing that can happen is that you two become more athletic; the best is that you win the grand prize by crossing the finish line first. And if you do, you’ll instantly get dates at the ball.”

“The ball?” I responded quizzically, before remembering that Frala had told us about such an event three months ago. “Oh, right.”

“If you two come in first place,” the blacksmith continued, “one of you will have the right of first refusal to the most beautiful lioness at the matchmaking ball. Or lion - who am I to judge?”

I was reminded of something Kaz had told me at his wedding: You’d be surprised what you’re brave enough for when you really want to do it.

Yeah, press X to doubt on that one. Not least because I wasn’t sure I wanted such a relationship where I was selected not based on my personality, but because I was the fastest runner in Whitehall.

Still, Lord Lucas (and Calvin for that matter) remained insistent, so I capitulated. “I’ll do it” I mouthed, sealing our pact.

From that moment forward, Calvin and I threw ourselves into training for the race. Hardly a day went by when we didn’t run a few laps around the village or more. Then again, our schedule for running was constricted by our work assignments, and even with those reduced hours, my legs still throbbed after each workout.

But it was working. With every day, I was able to tolerate longer jogs and even sprints. Sooner or later, I felt confident that I could actually do what was asked of me on race day.

“I think that was record time!” Calvin exclaimed breathlessly (emphasis on breathlessly) after our training run on the eve of the race. His tongue hung out of his mouth, but he was still smiling.

“No shit” I panted. “It…felt like record time!”

“Of course, it’s one thing to run normally,” Calvin offered. “It’ll be quite another when you’re tied to a sled that you have to maneuver around the course.”

I groaned. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

“We can still do it, though,” he insisted. “We’re committed. We can’t just back out now.”

“I know,” I replied. “It’s just…it’s going to hurt a lot after.”

“In a good way!” Calvin asserted. “And then, well, you heard what Lord Lucas said! We’ve got the right of first refusal to whatever mates we want at the ball!”

After a great sigh from me (punctuated by numerous pants and wheezes), Calvin stared at me right between the eyes. “Are you okay, Spencer? You don’t seem too thrilled.”

“It’s just…” I trailed off.

“You don’t want a romantic partner?”

“Not really, no,” I admitted. The thought of walking up to a random lioness (or lion, depending on what my orientation might have been) and asking them to date me was less than appealing. If anything, it would make me want to sink through the floor.

“Why not?” Calvin enquired, looking at one of the late afternoon shadows on the ground.

After sucking in a deep lungful of the crisp April sky, I shook my head. “Let’s just say that I’m a lot more awkward than most Pokémon. Even most humans who became Pokémon at a later date.”

“You don’t have much to compare that to” my teammate pointed out.

“Well, no,” I admitted. “Still, there’s something about me that you don’t know. Something that a lot of humans at least suspected, with how hard it is to make eye contact. Plus, as a human, I was very passionate about environmental issues…”.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“By human standards” I said. “Not like you all are.”

Calvin ignored that comment. “So what you’re saying is that there’s something about your mind that is different from others? Something that makes you interested in some things deeply and socially awkward?”

I felt myself blush. I didn’t need to say anything verbally, because my face’s new pigment was enough of an answer.

“Sometimes you seem to say things rashly,” Calvin muttered. “You blurt them out without thinking, and it can cost you.”

“How did you know -?”

“Because you do it all the time! Plus, I used to be just like you before I learned the social cues! Or rather, how to read the social cues!”

I immediately had a flashback to the “social thinking” lessons I’d taken in my childhood and teen years. Calvin was speaking to me almost as though he knew everything I might say, and could anticipate every fork in the “road” of this conversation.

“Well,” I sighed, “I guess I need more practice.”

“Maybe you do. Maybe you just don’t know when to mask, Spencer.”

I sighed. “Let’s get off this topic. We have a race to win tomorrow - I think we should get a hot meal and some rest.”

Calvin agreed with me, so we returned home and ate dinner with Frala and Enfield. The Emolga brooded in his seat, tiny bits of electricity circling around his nose.

“You can just spit it out, you know” I stated. “Why are you so upset?”

Enfield frowned. “I think you know exactly why.”

“Well, you’re not in the race, but it’s because you can fly,” I shot back. “Do you know how much I’d trade for that ability?”

When Enfield did not respond, I answered this question for him.

“A lot, Enfield. A lot. It must be the most heavenly thing in the world to spread your wings and watch the world shrink beneath you. It’s something I’ll never be able to do under my own power - count yourself lucky.”

“Spencer!” Frala snapped. “Be more civil at my table, please.”

I was about to give the lioness a dirty look, but the look Calvin gave me sent the unmistakable message: Drop it. Mama knows best. As a result, I dug deeper into the potato salad that Frala had cooked up for us.

After dinner, we went right to bed. We needed as much sleep as we could get, after all, so imagine my frustration when my mind just wouldn’t shut off.

Frustration turned to nerves as I became increasingly aware that the one thing I required the most was what the universe would deny me. If I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn that Arceus wanted me to lose the sled race.

Why would the King of Everything care who wins? I bet that if I asked Frala, she’d claim that Arceus works in mysterious ways. And maybe He does, but that doesn’t make those answers any more satisfying…

(Insert a horizontal line here)

I got two hours of sleep that night. Maybe. By the time race day dawned, I was relieved more than anything that I wouldn’t need to chase sleep any longer when it would just evade me again.

When I woke up (a debatable term when you’ve hardly slept at all), I stretched my legs out and yawned. What little rest I’d achieved had done me little good; I would need to rely on nothing but adrenaline for energy.

Breakfast was placed in front of me, scrambled eggs with lab-grown bacon and toast, but I turned my nose up at it.

“It’s food,” Frala muttered curtly. “If you don’t want to eat it, that’s fine, but if you refuse you have no chance.”

She may have been right, but that didn’t make it any easier to force those eggs down. My stomach churned, and it wasn’t remotely from hunger.

“The race starts at 9 AM,” Calvin said. “So we’d be wise not to eat too much. We don’t want to feel sick while running.”

I glanced at the clock. We still had almost two hours before the race began, and that made me sweat. What would we even do with all that time?

“We should probably go register,” Calvin offered once we’d all cleared our plates (which had taken me far longer than the others.)

Frala rolled her eyes. “Not before you help me with the dishes.”

Once the dishes were all clean, it was time to go. Calvin was about to kiss Frala goodbye when the lioness grunted.

“I’m coming with you two. I want to watch the race.”

“There isn’t much to watch,” I asserted. “From what Lord Lucas and Mayor Barrett have said, the nine-mile course is mostly through the dense forest - you won’t see us.”

Frala snorted. “I’m still going to support you two.”

Calvin wrinkled his nose. “Mom, you don’t have to chaperone us to the starting line! We’re both adults!”

But Frala insisted, so we walked to the starting line together. It was located in a clearing just behind the guild hall, and although the race wouldn’t start for over an hour, the clearing was still packed with entrants and their supporters. There were lines for the bathrooms, for registration, for merchandise…it was basically organized chaos.

Despite the length of the line, it moved surprisingly quickly. Before long we were at the front, and we received our bib numbers right away after giving our names. There was just one problem.

I’m not wearing a shirt…how are they going to fasten my bib to my chest?

“This won’t hurt a bit” the lioness behind the desk asserted, smiling at me.

I braced for the impact of needles piercing my fur, much like you do at the doctor’s office when you’re about to get a shot. Of course, I imagined this would hurt much more than that, since these were metal pins rather than tiny vaccine needles.

Well, as soon as the pin entered my fur, I yelped, which made quite a scene. Half of the other entrants gave me a concerned glare.

Do they suspect that I haven’t done this before? And if they do, maybe they realize that I’m not like them! Did my cover just get blown?

Calvin, Enfield, and Frala know that I’m really human. Or at least, that I used to be human. How many of the others do?

The bibs were slowly, painstakingly fastened to our chests; while Calvin grimaced, he didn’t seem to be in as much pain as me - perhaps he’d done this before too.

“They’re starting to line up” I realized once the pain subsided. “Should we go there too?”

My partner shook his head. “We’d better get harnessed up too. Lord Lucas is taking care of that. Without a sled we’d just destroy the competition.”

“That’d be nice,” I muttered.

“Which is why it’s not allowed,” Calvin pointed out with a slight chuckle. “There’s a word for someone who gains an unfair advantage - that word is cheater.”

“Right,” I muttered.

The blacksmith adorned us in the numerous straps that were necessary to keep the sled firmly affixed to our backs. Once we’d stepped through all the holes in the leather, Lord Lucas told us to try it out. (And by “it”, I don’t think I have to tell you what he meant).

Whenever I took a few steps forward, Calvin was pulled in the same direction, and vice versa. If one of us didn’t move while the other was running, the sled would nip at our heels, potentially causing punishment against our ankles that we’d rather not deal with.

Anyway, the sled’s weight wasn’t too bad. It was rather like carrying a backpack around the GPU campus - a hassle, yes, but not an unbearable one.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Calvin exclaimed.

We went over to the starting line, where the announcer, a Pyroar whose voice was surprisingly high-pitched for a lion, was scratching his claws against the dirt. There were numerous other teams around us - maybe even several dozen. The announcer kept barking out orders from the safety of the sidelines, begging us to get in the proper sections.

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“Those who run at less than a 12-minute pace - that is, five miles per hour - should go to the back of the line! If you’re between a 12-minute pace and an 11-minute pace, go to the section just ahead, and so on!”

I gulped. “What’s our pace group?” I asked Calvin apprehensively.

My teammate shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s all the honor system anyway!”

“Of course it matters. We don’t want to run over any other teams as we’re leaving the starting line! What group should we get in to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

Calvin smiled. “Let’s get in the front.”

The announcer boomed that the front was only for those runners who could do a seven-minute mile or less, adding that only those who could “run like the wind” belonged there. I was less than convinced that we were in this category.

“Hey, Calvin?”

He glared at me. “Yes, Spencer? Look, we’ve gotta conserve our air for the race!”

“I was wondering,” I began, “why you think we should get in the front? I’m sure I’m not the fastest runner here, not even close.”

I’ll never forget the mischievous smirk Calvin gave me next. This is what he said: “You’re not the best, but you will be.”

He allowed me to interpret that line on my own as we made our way to the front of the crowd. True to Calvin’s word, the pace groups were in fact based on the honor system; the announcer never asked us what our pace was, nor did he request the submission of a qualifying time like the annual Pastoria Marathon did.

“Okay, everyone!” the announcer exclaimed. “I’m your host, Tumble Pyroar, and I’ve got a few rules for you all to follow!

Tumble? What kind of name is that?

“Firstly, there are signs throughout the forest consisting of yellow and red paint on each tree. You are not to stray from the trails, both for your own safety and for the well-being of the forest’s wildlife. The trail is roughly nine miles long and should take about an hour for the fastest runners to complete.”

Calvin and I leaned forward, closer to the ground. We were ready to sprint at any moment, depending on whether Tumble meant a few or several.

“Secondly, you are not to engage in any deliberate actions to impede other runners or to gain an unfair advantage. You may not trip any other contestants, nor are you allowed to get rid of your sleds. This event is called the sled race for a reason - without a sled, you’re just running around a forest course, where would the fun be in that?”

I think it’d be more fun, honestly. Or at least, less grueling.

“Finally, as soon as you have finished the race, you are all to make your way out of the end zone in order to avoid blocking the exits for other racers. Refreshments will be served to make it all worth your while. Thank you all for running in the annual Whitehall Sled Race!”

Thank me later, pal. My back’s already getting sore and we haven’t even started running yet!

“When I say go, the race will begin. On a count of three…one, two, three, go!”

As though we’d been shot out of a cannon, us runners started, well, running through the clearing and back into the woods.

At first, it was difficult to get into a solid rhythm. After all, I wasn’t used to dragging this much weight behind me when in an all-out sprint, and it indeed kept narrowing in on rubbing our ankles raw. This, however, was not even as concerning as the other runners.

We’re going to get trampled if we slow down!

I then understood exactly why Calvin had demanded we start in the first pace group. This way, we’d be forced to maintain top speed for the whole race to avoid getting passed, and therefore it’d be easier to keep our energy in the form of adrenaline.

Huffing and puffing, panting and wheezing, we made numerous sharp turns through the woods. By this time the snow had virtually all melted - there were a few dirty patches every so often, but nothing actually in the path that took effort to avoid.

Along the way, we kept seeing the tree markings Tumble had mentioned. Some of them were in plain sight, as clear as could be, and we had no trouble finding the path. Others were a bit harder to spot, but we were still able to maintain our lead as we followed the winding trail.

Before long, and despite our best efforts, I knew I was beginning to flag. There was no way I could act on my exhaustion, though - the sled stampede behind us would have been more than enough to seriously injure both myself and Calvin if the others weren’t careful.

So I sucked it up and kept running. I would do this until my legs gave out, no matter how much my lungs burned. And it was working; we remained in first place for at least the first couple of miles.

Eventually, though, we ran for too long a period of time without hearing anyone behind us. The woods had been alive with the sounds of sleds scraping against the forest floor, as well as the numerous gasps of our competition. No longer - now I knew without looking that we’d lost them.

“We’re really far ahead, aren’t I?” I wondered aloud.

Calvin turned to face me for the first time this whole race, which resulted in the sled skidding around and hitting his ankles. My teammate winced, then gritted his teeth.

“Can’t talk! We need to keep running! We’re in first place!”

Are we really?

I halted right there, then gave Calvin the most earnest look I could muster. “No, Calvin. I don’t think we're first anymore.”

That’s when I think it dawned on my teammate and fellow Litleo that something was horribly wrong. When Calvin replied, his eyes were wide with worry.

“Did we run right off the track?”

I nodded. “I think we did. Do you know the way back?”

Calvin stared at me as though I’d just asked him if he knew the secrets of quantum physics.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Cal” I snarled breathlessly “You know how to navigate to mystery dungeons, but when it comes to the forests near our own village, you’re totally stumped!”

“I’m sorry” my teammate muttered, but that wasn’t enough for me.

“Sorry won’t get us back on track. We need to find the trail again.”

Calvin sighed. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

We jogged through the forest for at least several minutes in all directions. Now that we’d lost the group, and the prospect of those gold medals seemed more and more remote, I no longer felt the same sense of urgency. Oddly enough, when you’re not going to win the race, it’s a weight off your shoulders.

Indeed, we didn’t find the other runners this whole time, and before long there was no denying it: Not only would we not be winning the race, but it’d take a minor miracle for us not to be last. But again, this was hardly relevant when we had nothing to lose - because we’d already lost.

After a while, Calvin gasped out of frustration. And that’s when the panic set in for me, because most of the time, I was the first one in our group to get frustrated.

“I don’t know where we’re supposed to go!” he exclaimed, so loudly I nearly leaped two feet off the ground.

“Well, let’s not just stand here” I suggested breathlessly. “Let’s keep looking!”

In the back of my mind, I suspected this was a bad idea. It would likely be smarter to wait for the villagers to find us - sooner or later, once the race had ended and all the stragglers had crossed the finish line, they’d realize that one team was unaccounted for and start the search.

Instead, Calvin nodded in agreement. “There’s that pile of rocks up there - it looks like a fist or something.”

I frowned, glancing at the specific set of rocks perhaps two hundred meters away. It was indeed shaped like a clenched human fist, though this was likely purely coincidental.

“Let’s wait there,” Calvin continued. “Then we’ll be rescued, for sure.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” my teammate responded. “It’s easier to find a target that’s not moving, isn’t it?”

I ignored the word target here and nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

As we walked to the rock pile, Calvin remarked that these rocks resembled the clenched fist of Arceus - hence why, from this point forward, he’d be referring to it as Arceus’ Fist.

“Does the King of Everything have a sense of humor, though?” I enquired. “And besides, isn’t it scary to think about offending Him at any point?”

Calvin shrugged. “Not really.”

“But think about it for a moment, okay” I suggested. “If Arceus is watching you at all times, even when you’re on the toilet, isn’t that a little…I dunno, invasive?”

My teammate did not respond verbally, but that didn’t matter; I got the message anyway.

Sometimes you have to deal with things as they are, Spencer, not as you might like them to be. If Arceus is watching over us, he’s watching over us, and we can’t exactly do anything to change that.

Over the last few months, I’d noticed that Calvin’s thoughts felt projected into my own more and more frequently with each passing day. But I didn’t want to “rock the boat” by bringing that up, so I kept my mouth shut. Sooner or later, I’d tell him, and I didn’t know whether to eagerly await or dread that day. But right now, we had a village to find.

As soon as we reached Arceus’ Fist, the world vanished around us.

----------------------------------------

“What the heck just happened?” I yelped. “What the hell is going on?”

The forest surrounding Whitehall had receded, to be replaced by a narrow circular corridor that had brick walls. It was also a lot hotter here than in the woods, which brought to mind a brick oven you’d find at a pizzeria. And that didn’t exactly reassure me.

If this is an oven, we’re cooked. Literally.

Calvin gazed at me, his eyes boring right into my soul, as though to send this message: Look what you’ve done!

My teammate sighed. “I think we need to find our way out of here.”

“No fucking shit” I muttered. “Of course we need to get out. We’re in some underground tunnel!”

It was then that Calvin turned away from me and gazed at the brick ceiling. As he did so, his eyes filled with…was that despair?

“Spencer,” he said, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

He said this as though it were a secret he’d kept bottled up for so long that it had become shameful, even if it should have been nothing to be ashamed of. It brought to mind a teenager coming out to their homophobic parents, or something to that effect. The point is, Calvin had clearly been anxiously finding the right time to give me this information, and now he’d decided it had come.

“What’s that?” I enquired after nearly a minute of working up the courage to ask.

“I think we may have found ourselves in the world’s largest mystery dungeon,” Calvin mouthed.

I snorted. “Isn’t that an awfully bold conclusion to make after just a few minutes?”

“Well, not exactly. The Labyrinth is public knowledge among us Pokémon, even if not all of us believe in it. But I do - how could you deny something you’ve observed with your own eyes?”

“So it’s just a rumor?” I enquired, clinging to anything that might suggest the situation wasn’t so frightening after all.

Calvin raised an eyebrow. “Well…perhaps. But consider this too: The radiation at Mount Thunderhead was just a rumor too, until it wasn’t.”

“Right” I whispered, shivering.

“So the Labyrinth,” Calvin continued, “snakes beneath the surface of the Earth. It’s nothing like the Underworld, which is far down there - rather, it’s like a second layer of skin. Like I said, it’s the biggest Mystery Dungeon in the world, because there are literally thousands of miles of tunnels. You might never find your way through - Pokémon have gone insane trying to navigate it, because it just can’t be tamed.”

“That’s comforting,” I muttered.

“They say there are ways to navigate through the Labyrinth logically, but that’s just a myth as far as I know.”

I glared at Calvin. “You mean, a fake myth?”

He nodded. “But none of that will matter if we don’t get out of here now. Do you see any exits?”

Given that the brick walls were unyielding and we couldn’t see very far in any one direction, the answer to that question should have been pretty obvious.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I guess we’ve got to explore the maze.”

It took us a while to find an exit. I tried to remember the maze-solving algorithms I’d heard about, but they eluded me even now. It didn’t help that we were still tethered to the damn sled, which made moving forward a lot harder now that we were tired from running. (The sharp turns also hindered us.)

The whole time, I couldn’t help but feel my stomach descending a giant staircase. It was dropping gradually as dread filled my stomach, making it feel like a lead balloon. Maybe we were cursed to go insane in the maze, just like Calvin had alluded to. And, of course, there was the ever-present threat of monsters.

“There’s an exit right there!” Calvin exclaimed, gesturing at a sign labeled EXIT that resembled one you’d find at a movie theater.

I remained skeptical. “It can’t be that easy, can it? There’s always a catch.”

My teammate laughed mildly. “You’re right, Spencer. There’s always a catch, but sometimes, that catch is that there is no catch.”

I must’ve been staring pretty hard, because Calvin soon clarified: “You’re overthinking it, Spencer. And overthinking can be just as dangerous as under-thinking sometimes.”

Despite my teammate’s reassurances, I still felt like I had eyes in the back of my head as I ascended the stairs behind Calvin. Hopefully it led back into the sunlight…

…which it did.

But this sunlight was different, brighter and yet dimmer at the same time. Shadows lay across the ground, and we were practically staring right at the sun rather than having it directly above us.

In other words, we’d been in that maze for a number of hours, and it was now long past midday. I shivered, not just because it was colder out here, but also because…

“They must be worried sick!” Calvin yelled.

I was tempted to say No fucking shit again, but I resisted this urge. Instead, I looked at the ground and nodded. “We’ve got to get back, before the others find us and get mad.”

“Respectfully, Spencer - I think that ship’s sailed.”

But that didn’t absolve us of our responsibility to find our way back to Whitehall. Fortunately for both of us, Calvin came to his senses and recalled something important.

“If the sun’s setting, that way is west. We’re trying to go south, since the clearing where the race began is north of the village proper. Therefore, the sun should be to our right if we’re going the right way.”

During our walk through the woods (after we had awkwardly stepped out of our harnesses and ditched the sled), I couldn’t help but ponder just how insane the concept of the Labyrinth was. To have a giant underground maze that humankind didn’t know about was too much for my differently-wired brain to handle.

And there was something Calvin had told me just yesterday, too. Something about how he’d once been just like me in terms of not understanding social cues.

I won’t pry about that. I can’t. Not now.

In our degree of tiredness, it took the better part of an hour to get back to the clearing. By then, the sun was just touching the horizon; before long it would be dark, and I thanked my lucky stars that we’d at least made it out before nightfall.

However, I was far less thankful when we emerged into the clearing to find what might have been half the village staring at us.

I knew the stare associated with interest in you as an individual, or with relief that you were okay. This was neither of those things. And I may not be the best at social cues, but I knew two things: They were mad, and there would be hell to pay.

“So!” Tumble boomed as soon as he caught a glimpse of us. “Our missing team has shown up safe and sound, everybody!”

There were no cheers from the crowd, not that I’d expected any applause to be forthcoming. Rather, the other Pokémon wore stone-faced, bored expressions, as though they’d already decided what to think and could not be convinced otherwise.

And then the announcer glared at us, speaking in a deadly tone that couldn’t have been more different from his high-pitched, jovial demeanor at the start of the race. This is what he said:

“Spencer Litleo, do you and Calvin Litleo know what you’ve done?”

I gulped. Here it was: A situation that tempted me to try playing dumb. But in the back of my mind, I knew this wouldn’t be worthwhile.

“We’ve been lost. We were in those woods for at least several hours” I said sheepishly. To be sure, that was an admission of guilt, yet…

“What do you mean at least several?” Tumble snarled. “It’s past seven in the evening now, and the race started at 9 AM. So if by several you mean ten…”.

I shook my head. “I mean seven. It’s in the word - just look it up.”

The announcer didn’t seem amused. “Don’t be cute with me, Spencer Litleo. Don’t be funny with me. Had you been the first team to arrive, I would have half a mind to disqualify you from the race.”

That’s kind of a moot point, isn’t it?

“Yeah, well, if my grandmother had wheels instead of legs, she would be a bicycle” I muttered before I could psyche myself out of such an action.

Tumble shook his head, baring his fangs. “I don’t think it’s wise to make jokes about this. Us villagers have been quite concerned, given that the race ended at noon.”

“So several hours ago.”

Calvin looked as though he were about to smack me upside the head for daring to make light of our situation. But it was Tumble who spoke next.

“Shut up, will you? In any case, I understand that you two are a prestigious rescue team hailing from these parts - Team Earthlink, isn’t that your name?”

Calvin and I both nodded; was there any point in lying? As it turned out, I suppose there would have been.

“I will be in contact with Guildmaster Agarth tonight - he will have a just consequence for you two, I believe. And that’s not a punishment, it’s for all of your own good. But that is hardly any of my business, so I will continue.

“What possessed you two to wander into the forest during the race and stay there all day?”

Calvin and I exchanged embarrassed glances; how much could we tell Tumble? Maybe I didn’t have much to go on, but he didn’t seem like the type of lion to keep a secret. And even then, there were literally hundreds of Pokémon there.

I sighed. “Can’t we have dinner first?” I enquired. “You brought refreshments to the end of the race for the finishers, didn’t you? We technically finished the race - in fact, we went further than that…”.

Tumble shook his head feverishly. “No, no, and just no! You broke the rules of the race, which, like I said, would have resulted in disqualification if you’d arrived more than seven hours ago. Cheaters never prosper, and they certainly won’t be rewarded with watermelon, bagels, and pizza!”

As hungry as I felt (as ravenous, in fact, as if I’d actually been running in the woods for all those hours), I knew that arguing this point would get me nowhere. Especially since…

“The food’s all gone, too. It was carted away hours ago, and what wasn’t eaten will be used as compost. Cheating took that opportunity away from you two, I’m afraid.”

Calvin narrowed his eyes. “Is it really cheating if it causes you to lose? Because we were in first for half the race, until we got lost!”

“You still broke the rules. Results don’t matter, Calvin Litleo - intent is what matters. So unless you’ve got a damn good reason…”.

“There’s something in those woods,” I began, “that you don’t know about. That none of you know about.”

Lord Lucas lumbered over. The blacksmith, who usually greeted me warmly, was now cooler than being cool - ice cold.

“What is the meaning of this, Team Earthlink?” Lord Lucas growled. “You’ve made a mockery of our annual tradition!”

“We didn’t mean to,” Calvin insisted.

Tumble rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as if we believe you! And what’s more, Spencer Litleo here is going to cook up some cockamamie tale about how they shouldn’t actually be in trouble because of some legend that’s been debunked a million times over.”

“But it’s true,” I blurted out. “We saw it with our own eyes.”

I knew somehow that I’d only get one chance to make my point heard, so I grabbed it by the reins and refused to let go.

“There’s a mystery dungeon in the forest, beneath the pile of rocks that looks like the fist of Arceus.”

“Believable enough,” Lord Lucas muttered. “Mystery dungeons exist, after all - we know that much.”

“But don’t you see?” Tumble exclaimed. “He’s trying to break down your defenses by making the story sound reasonable at first glance! It’s anything but reasonable - they’re just trying to Sneasel their way out of trouble!”

“I promise you,” Calvin replied, effectively backing me up. “We saw it ourselves, and we’re not making this up.”

Tumble rolled his eyes. “That’s what every teller of tall tales says. You’re not making it up. Well, saying it doesn’t make it so.”

“The mystery dungeon was the Labyrinth” I said.

Tumble actually laughed there; so did many other villagers, even Lord Lucas and the runners who’d come back from their well-earned rests to search for us. My chest felt as though it were being squeezed by Arceus’ Fist, and my rage came close to a point beyond which it would simply explode.

Something else dawned on me, and I couldn’t resist the urge to utter my next words. They had only just occurred to me, but they still needed to be said. If I was wrong, I was wrong, but it’s better to be prepared.

“It might be funny to you, Tumble,” I snapped, “but you won’t be laughing for long. If you keep Arceus’ Fist undefended…well, you might as well be walking through a gunfight with a SHOOT ME HERE sign on your back.”