He feared for her.

Of course he knew he should be glad. It was more than evident that his focus should be on what remained of their tribe and the possibility of halting the roaming death that plagued them, but all Kabutops had extensive memories, strong to suit their long lives, and his was intent on harking back to a time when metallic wings and black armour marked a freak, not a war heroine. His mind’s eye recalled with perfect clarity the way an imploring violet gaze had once regarded him, meekly seeking comfort and protection.

It was a ridiculous thing to dwell on, and he was quick to chastise his mind for dredging up the past. Things were different now, far different, and she was much too strong for him to reasonably think she was in any real danger out there. It took considerably longer than the few weeks Kognook had taken to expire for a Kabutops’ skill to decline noticeably. Naturally she would be able to crush whatever might oppose her, be it Omastar or any other of the beasts that roamed the forests.

Yet the raw emotion she had shown played out a bloody tragedy in his mind, one of recklessness and fearlessness culminating in seemingly inevitable fatality.

Tziir stepped back from his personal grinding stone, raising his gleaming scythes before him to scrutinise the lethal edge. Razor sharp, there was nothing to criticise in either, save for their inactivity. Letting out an irritated hiss, he forced all regrets about the constraints of his position aside and thoughts of Shaaca with them. It was time to get back and serve.

* * *

Raahn’s red eyes gleamed in the darkness, excellent night vision thwarted by the hanging net of moss and undergrowth that obscured his view out of their shelter. He cursed it inwardly, raising himself higher on his talons in the vague hope it might improve visibility. It didn’t.

“Perfect,” he hissed to himself dryly, glancing in Zetaahn’s direction.

The sight of his so-called bodyguard stretched out on his back, limbs akimbo and broad head pressed right into animal poo, had been amusing to the Kabuto at first, prior to the realisation that old faeces would be rather more solid than the foetid mess smeared up Zetaahn’s left cheek. And he hadn’t been at all amused when the odd sounds had started up outside.

Sounds just like that, he realised with a twitch. That strange crackling and swishing – there, slightly to the right of the entrance, not the sort of sound he heard on the beach but definitely identifiable as movement nevertheless. The strategist’s brain whirred. Loitering, was it? Trying to work out what they were? No, he decided, letting out a menacing hiss, plotting! Planning, yes, that would be it; the devious thing was probably setting a trap of some sort but there was no way it could ever trick him.

Stubby front scythes clicking excitedly against the front curve of his shell, the Kabuto scurried over to Zetaahn, climbing up onto his chest and tapping repeatedly on his armour with his claws.

“Wake up!” he growled, keeping his voice low, “Wake up, you lazy chump. ”

The Kabutops stirred, eyes opening a slit before the pupils focused and the tetchy Pokémon perched on his chest swam into view.

“Mnuh…?” he mumbled vaguely, an attempt to sit up halted by the wet sound moving his head produced. “Urk.”

Raahn couldn’t help the amused glint in his eyes at the horrified look gripping his companion’s features as Zetaahn realised just what he was lying in, but conjured up a formal tone as he informed him, “There’s something outside and we need to deal with it.”

“But I’m-” the younger Pokémon began to whine.

“Completely disgusting at the moment,” Raahn finished, creeping closer to the entrance. “I don’t care. It’s on the right.” He swept a front scythe in the direction of the last noise he’d heard, glancing back at Zetaahn to make sure he was paying attention. “And undoubtedly expects us to come out the front, so you’re going to have to use those scythes of yours and go straight up through the-“

“Teliin!” Zetaahn lurched into a sitting position, lowering his face close to the Kabuto, the reek silencing the smaller creature with the help of his gag reflex. The Raakin lowered his voice conspiratorially, “If it’s that close it can probably hear us…”

Raahn snorted, “It’s a land creature, they’re stupid.”

The hurt look flitting across Zetaahn’s face alerted him to incoming stupidity, but he failed in cutting the younger Kabu off before he had blurted out, “But I’m a land crea-“

“You’re amphibious - learn your race!” snapped the Kabuto, scuttling forward and waving his stubby front scythes in the air, “After taking out that thing! Now you should be going, going, GONE!”

The barked word sent Zetaahn skittering to his feet, shuddering as the worst of the mess slid off his face to the ground at his feet with a splat. Certain that this would be a lot better if he didn’t leave himself time to really consider it, he angled his scythes and leapt straight up, slicing through the wood and then ploughing through it with his helmed head. The second leap propelled him up through the gap, bringing both arms down on the timber beside him for lift, and with a grunt he hauled himself up on top just in time for a massive head to swing around and stare at him through heavy lidded eyes.

Zetaahn stared right back, boggled by the size, and it was only a rumbled “Slaaaaa” from the beast, baring yellowed fangs, that snapped him back to his senses. He struck out hard before he had even gained proper balance on the logs, catching the monster across its enormous shoulder and sheering a bloody gash through the matted brown pelt. Roaring, the beast lurched at him, swinging a clumsy punch that the nimble Kabutops dodged easily, leaping from his perch in an explosion of rotten splinters and skidding to a halt as soon as he hit solid ground so that the next blow slammed down a few inches in front of him.

Overbalanced, the thing staggered forward and Zetaahn was quick to take advantage of the lapse, slicing at its rounded, blubbery belly with both scythes. It bellowed and he grinned but the victorious feeling was short lived: instead of reeling back the monster swiped at him hard, pure muscle underneath that matted fur heaving him off his feet and flinging him flailing through the air and into a nearby tree. His right scythe caught in the crux of two thick branches, Zetaahn howled as his full bodyweight nearly jerked the arm from its socket, then tumbled to the ground with a crunch of heavy Kabutops against unlucky roots. He’d never felt pain like that before; it was beyond his ability to comprehend. Sprawled on his back he writhed, desperately and hopelessly seeking some unknown position that might soothe the wrenched joint, deaf to Raahn’s shout of warning.

With things thus, it seemed like a perfect time to prove the power of the Kabuto, the strategist deduced.

He had been watching intently, seen clearly the flex of massive muscles beneath the misleading fat across the creature’s tawny chest that Zetaahn really should have noticed. The creature’s size was misleading, as were the two stubby legs on which it rested its massive bulk: it was big but fast, just lazy. Even now it was taking its time in moving over to the injured Kabutops, almost as though it couldn’t quite raise the motivation to finish him off. Raahn narrowed his eyes. He could exploit that.

Gathering water from the twin reserves in his compact little body, he charged forward, stopped abruptly and angled himself upwards, letting loose a powerful burst that blasted into the beast’s head. Wet and angry, it whipped around with uncanny speed, the nostrils of its pug nose flared wide as water dripped from its sodden white ruff. A low rumble building in its chest until it burst out in a ferocious bellow, it left the shuddering Kabutops for later, setting its sights on his smaller counterpart. Undaunted, the Kabuto shot a continuous stream of water at the ground between him and it, churning the earth to a muddy mess. There was no way it would manage to get over that, he was sure. Out here in the forest there was no water, not like back on the beach, so sludge would no doubt flummox the beast.

Unfortunately, he was the one suffering from confusion and disbelief as it simply lumbered right through his “trap”, the sole effect a splattering of wet dirt up its already filthy lower legs.

“Improbable,” he spluttered. How could a land creature not be instantly thwarted by something out of the ordinary?

He had little time to contemplate. The next hydro pump, aimed at the ankle in the hopes of toppling the mammal, was his last and, water reserves emptied, he raised his stumpy claws towards his notably upright foe. Could he leach from a creature with that much fat? Hard to tell. Bloody annoying. Worth trying?

“Slaaaaaaakiiiiiiing!”

The giant sloth had barely succeeded in raising its foot to crush the dithering Kabuto when it was hit from the side, twin sickles cutting into its belly and then forced deeper by a tenacious attacker. Staggering with Zetaahn clinging to it, Slaking struggled to dislodge the assailant, only for him to dig his blades deeper until they really started to hurt.

“Hah, Raakin, that’s better!” declared Raahn, apparently undaunted by his near miss with compaction.

Skittering forward on needle claws, he launched himself at the Pokémon’s leg and dug in his tiny scythes as best he could, draining for all he was worth. His aim wasn’t especially true: one blade hit bone whilst the other barely got through the thick layer of fat, only the tip reaching anything worthwhile. Nevertheless it elicited another angry bellow from the beast. Raging, it ploughed into a tree, the trunk shattering on impact and sending shards of sharp white wood clattering off the two Kabus’ armour.

The tree went down and Slaking stumbled over with it, crashing to the ground and half-crushing Zetaahn with its weight. He gave a pained squeal, one scythe coming loose, and with the next thrash of his furious host he was sent tumbling from its side, skidding a few feet before coming to a halt near the entrance to the shelter. His warrior instincts cut in quickly this time, however, and he sat up almost immediately, ready to gain his feet. Warrior instincts, after all, could hardly anticipate the hurtling projectile of shell and legs and angry mind that shot through the air towards him. Warrior instincts had no idea that sitting up would put him directly in the path of that projectile, or that it would hit his head so hard that his armoured helm would crack upon impact.

Unfortunately, this proved to be a major failing for warrior instincts. Caught just above the eye by Raahn as the Kabuto hurtled through the air, Zetaahn was thrown straight back down into the dirt, reeling from the hit. His thoughts were suddenly disjointed, stupid. Instead of focusing on the advancing foe he found himself staring in dazed disbelief at Raahn, watching with dumb curiosity the way the little yellow legs twitched in waves down the twin rows as the litany of insults the creature was spewing washed over his mind without a trace of any sense whatsoever. The world distorted wildly. A piercing whine seared through all else and thunder thudded through the ground.

The thunder was bad.

He should really be facing up.

Somehow facing the thunder became a logical way to save himself, and rolling onto his back he stared upward just in time to see the monstrous creature towering over him, bleeding and angry. Then it stumbled forward; it tried to turn but it was late, far too late to stop anything.

Its throat exploded in spurting fans of blood.