Chapter two: Gingerbread

By Obsidian Blade

    I trudged along through the forest, the mud coating my legs all the way up to mid-thigh. My burst of optimism from yesterday was dying off pretty quick now, a few remaining embers all that remained. I was getting sick of these woods. Yesterday they had represented my newfound freedom, but today, with the memories of a rainy, Weedle infested night still fresh in my mind, it represented mud, mud, more mud and then even more mud on the side. Gaahhh, how I wished I’d thought to bring shoes, spare clothes, more money and some proper FOOD.
    At that thought my stomach growled as loud as a Mightyena in complaint. Gawd, what I wouldn’t do for a bacon butty… Hot from the grill, greasy, ketchup yummmmm…

    “YAHHHHIEEE!!!” I shrieked, my feet sliding out from under me as my bacon butty fantasy sent me sliding down a muddy bank toward a bubbling bog. “Oh shit.” I mumbled, there was NO WAY landing in that would be nice.
I grabbed at the bank I was sliding down but all I grabbed were handfuls of slimy greenish brown sludge. But there! As fast as I could I grabbed a tree root sticking out of the bank, ignoring the way the wood dug into my palm and trying to imagine the maggots seething around me away. Why oh why was it me who slid down the maggot infested< bank leading to some sort of toxic marsh?
    A held on tighter, gritting my teeth and trying to expel some of the grit and muddy grime I had in my maw. I seemed to be doing okay now, my grip on the root staying true. But wait… Suddenly my mind clicked. ‘Maggots… root… EATING…’
    “Oh shit.” I repeated, just as the root gave way under my weight, sending me slipping and sliding down the mud, now accompanied by numerous maggots and other grubs. Sticks, plants and stones that lined the bank ripped at my skin and clothing, leaving harsh red lines down my arms, legs and stomach. I gagged and choked on mud as I scratched uselessly at the slope in an attempt to save myself. Too late.

    SPLASH! I landed in the bog, mud that smelled worse than the changing rooms at my father’s gym swirling over my head and slimy skinned somethings brushing my body as I pushed frantically up toward the surface. Just when I thought my lungs would burst I exploded from the bog, my mouth gaping open for air but getting more watery mud than anything else.
    I shook my head ferociously, my hair sending more mud splattering everywhere. After wiping my mouth on the back of my sludgy hand I struck out fervently for what I could see was solid land.

More easily said then done, I tells ya.

    The mud churned around me at my frantic splashing, filling my mouth and nose and eyes and only adding to my panic. My father’s voice was drowned out in my head by the frantic warning bleeps as I sank momentarily below the surface but I was too busy spluttering and gasping for air as I came up again to celebrate.
    I swapped movements to the crawl, dragging myself through the thick murky mud with powerful strokes of my arms. My feet kicked out behind me, making contact with something sharp that I somehow ignored. I had to ignore it, just as I had to pretend that the grit coating my body and irritating my skin wasn’t bothering me. If I let myself try to scratch or panic it’d be bye-bye Raven as I sank into the stinking mess.

    Finally the tips of my fingers hit the hard land of the shore and I hauled my exhausted body up with much difficulty, letting myself collapse choking and gasping to the dank ground. Its earthy scent barely penetrated my mud-coated nostrils, but it was enough to comfort me a tiny bit. My arms felt like rubber as they lay motionless by my side, the grit that clung to my every pore itching and scratching as I finally sat up.
    I managed to remove the worst of the slime from my arms and body with the palms of my hands, but my fingers wouldn’t move with the cold. In fact, my entire body was either shivering or frozen in place, leaving me pretty defenceless. I had to get a fire started, no matter how, I just had to. I had to warm up, my life most probably depended on it.

    Pulling every ounce of determination from my being I pulled my legs up underneath me, straightening them oh-so-slowly as I stood. I looked around. I smiled. I kept standing. But then suddenly the world was shaking around me, my pale legs, dirty brown with mud, shivering in uncontrollable spasms.
No luck. One ankle gave way, sending me falling sideways, arms flailing for something, anything, to grab onto. No hope. I hit the ground hip-first, a sharp pain shooting through my lower thigh followed by a warm trickle. I looked down.
“Damn this!”
    My leg was impaled on a root, the dark wood buried deep in my flesh. A crimson stream ran swiftly from the wound, dripping onto the soft earth were it was instantly sucked up.
“Damn it ALL!” I screamed to the canopy of trees above me.
A flock of Spearow exploded from the trees and into the sky, squawking their complaints as they retreated away.

    With a final scream of anger and defeat I let my head hit the ground, not even caring as something squirmed out from under me and writhed its way off into the dark dead bracken. Why did it matter? If I died, here, now, I would at least be with my mother…
    Thoughts of her smiling face, blue eyes sparkling with happiness and love and body shaking with playful laughter jumped into my head. I couldn’t even raise the strength to bat them away. As images rose unbidden into my minds eye, myself on her shoulders as a tiny child, burying my face in her silky blue hair, her running across a field as her Growlithe leapt along beside, nipping playfully at her ankles, I let myself do something I never did. I cried.
    Cried and cried and cried. Cried soundlessly, tears slipping across my dirty face and leaving salty trails of skin in their wake. I cried until my eyes ached as much as my heart and the sides of my vision started to sink into fizzing darkness.

    I don’t know for how long I was out, but it was long enough. I woke with a splitting headache and limbs that felt like lead. It was dark again, but I could see my breath hanging in the air in front of me by the silvery light of the moon that slunk through the guarding trees and splashed softly upon the ground.
    It was a clear night, the moon and stars shining like silver beacons through the blanket of midnight blue. It was also, very, very cold. If I was in a bad way before, I was practically dead now. Numbly I rubbed at my senseless arms and legs, blinking the strange tiredness from my eyes as I worked hard to heighten my body heat. It wasn’t working. Fear crept up from the pit of my stomach like a venomous snake, ripping at my insides and leaving me cold and empty, yet heavy and coiled at the same time. Was I going to… die? Here? From something so trivial as a slip down a slope?

    Those thoughts fresh in my mind, I rubbed harder and with renewed determination. I wouldn’t die here, it would be like proving my father right; I was a weakling. I scrubbed at my skin until it was red, raw and shining in the light, scraps of mud torn from my skin by my fervent actions and then rubbed into the stinging wounds. And it still wasn’t working!
    I pressed harder and rubbed faster, a lump rising in my throat. I bit it back, I’d had my annual crying session earlier today and there was no way I was going to reduce my pride any further by repeating it. The cold set in further, biting my flesh and coiling around me in a grip of freezing death. My movements started to slow as my toes lost all feeling and my lips found themselves almost incapable of moving.
    I was about to give up again, like I had earlier only for a much longer time, when a warm nose stabbed me viciously in the arm. I looked down, my head quivering and my eyes barely able to focus on the creature in front of me. It was a… some sort of Pokčmon. I think… A Rattata. Yeah, that’s it. Rattata.

    It squeaked something incomprehensible and rubbed the side of its warm furred face against my arm. Its fur was soft and purple on top, slightly tougher and tan coloured on the bottom. I was too tired to see the colour of its eyes. Too tired…
    My head rolled over on my neck, most of its weight resting on one freezing shoulder. Rattata squeaked again, more urgently this time as if it were trying to call me back. I couldn’t… just couldn’t.
“WeeEEEP!” The little creature squealed, rubbing its whole body against my side.
It struck me as to how this Pokčmon would help me, a human, without question when our own ‘intelligently advanced’ society wouldn’t do as much as to hold out a hand to help a blind man cross the road. The thought of a fool, maybe. For that to be one of my last thoughts I had to be.

    I leant my back gently against the hard bark of a tree as Rattata kept up its relentless quest to keep me awake. I started to doze fitfully, the wound on my inner thigh seeming to inflate and itch as I dipped in and out of the waters of unconsciousness like a nervous child first learning to swim. I felt myself prepare to dive off the deep end when a sharp pain shot through my hand and an added weight forced its way into my lap.
    I forced my eyes open again to see the little faces of about ten Rattata in my lap and a Hoothoot perched on my hand. Then pain had been courtesy of its sharp talons and I had to say I was thankful. As the ten Rattata went about warming me up, Hoothoot perched on my shoulder, whispering sounds of encouragement into my ear. To my disbelief I was starting to feel better, the light-headedness starting to flee my mind and the movement returning to my hands and feet. Even the death lock the cold had around my chest started to relax, letting me breath without pain.

    After maybe two hours of pampering from Rattata and Hoothoot I could stand again, walk even. Eleven pairs of sparkling eyes stared up at me as I walked my first lap of a set of three trees, rotten wood and dead plants crackling under my bare feet. I returned to my little saviours and hugged them each, unable to really show my gratitude.
    Strangely, they seemed to sense it anyway, but how I could tell I don’t know. I tilted my head back and gazed at the twinkling cosmos above me, a smile gracing my thin lips.
“Thank you.” I said to the Pokčmon, but when I looked down they were gone.

    “Strange…” I murmured, setting off through the forest once again.
I hadn’t got far when men’s voices reached my ears, their tone venomous as I picked out a few swearwords in their dialogue. Flashlight beams pierced the darkness, flooding over the vegetation as they swung around through the air. It looked as if the holders were trying to cover everyplace at once…
    I covered a smile with my hand, whoever these people were, they were cowards if they were afraid of being in this forest. Why were they even out here at this hour if they were scare--- Then it hit me with the force of a thousand stones: They were out here for me.

    Suddenly I saw the whole scene in a different light. These people weren’t blundering cowards cussing their way through a forest. They were hunters, the beams of their flashlights silver tendrils reaching out for me through the darkness, swatting at my body and weakly grasping at my clothes.
    Without another breath I turned and ran, blundering noisily away on still shaken legs. If I’d been in perfect health none of that would have happened; I would have crept slowly and quietly away and hidden where they couldn’t find me. As it was, I was fearful after the bog incident and any little thing could send me leaping like a terrified deer.
    I heard a few shouts from behind me and suddenly I was bathed in revealing light. The wind blew into my face as I rushed headlong through the undergrowth, narrowly avoiding trees and plants and other obstacles as I sped off. They were still hot on my trail, even though the silvery spectres of their flashlight beams had lost their grip on my form.

    “Hey! Get back here!” One of them yelled, slurring his words together like a drunkard. I assume he was.
I didn’t reply, didn’t stop either. That would be a very, very stupid thing to do and I knew better. I was running full tilt, sharp ended sticks embedding themselves in the soles of my feet as I leapt through the bracken.
“We’ll get you, you little bugg-GLOFF!”
    A smile twitched my lips as I realised that one of the fools following me had met the same muddy fate as I had done earlier. Serves him right! They should never have tried to catch me in the first place. And still I ran on, the harsh wind buffeting my face and ripping at my loose t-shirt. I leapt over fallen trees and logs like a champion show jumping Rapidash, forced my way through prickly bushes with the stubbornness of a Rhyhorn and occasionally swung from vines to get over more bogs and Pokčmon holes that littered my path.

    But I was still tired, and the men were gaining on me. The chemicals pumping through my veins made my muscles burn as I hauled myself on, my breath wearing away at the inside of my throat like sandpaper. I started to slow down a little, the blood beating in my ears like a slack drum and forcing my concentration to waver. There was a large tree up ahead, its branches extending far into the sky and its roots twisting and turning on the ground.
    I decided to jump over the roots to avoid spraining, or even breaking, my ankle and prepared myself as I came closer. I was ten feet from the tree, six feet five feet four feet three feet two feet one foot… I bunched my legs beneath me and sprang, waiting for that familiar burst of speed and power I expected. It never came. My legs were too tired. Instead of shooting over the roots and landing gracefully on the other side my feet slammed into two gaps between roots causing me to fall forward onto my face.

    The precious time and distance I was loosing haunting my head like a curse I tried to pull myself free and run on, but my feet remained firmly stuck. I rolled over as best as I could and grabbed my thigh with my hands, yanking with all my strength. Not fast enough… I pulled harder, tried the other leg, went into a pulling frenzy, but I was stuck firm.
    I looked up to see where my pursuers had got to, but they had disappeared. I blinked and looked harder; they couldn’t simply have not been there. My amber eyes scanned the surrounding forest, my hackles rising as I realised what a bad position I was on.

    “Gotcha!” A loud voice bellowed from behind me, heavy hands slamming down onto my shoulders and knocking me back into the harsh cradle of roots.
I couldn’t help it, my lips parted and I let out an ear splitting screech. The man covered his ears with one hand, and growled at me before his allies came and lifted me from my wooden prison. Now free, I knew exactly what I had to do. As much as I wanted to leave my father and his dream behind in the dust, this had to be done.
    “Kiiyaaa!”
The sound issued from the centre of my being and I landed a swift kick to the head of on of my captors, sending his head cracking back on his skinny neck. As quickly as I could I flipped, punched or kicked all of my opponents away and prepared to run… But one got back up.

    “Well well Raven, it looks like I was right after all, you are a real fighter.” That all-familiar deep voice decided as the man, as my father, hauled himself up.
Before I could so much as sneer he took up an offensive posture I was vaguely familiar with and struck out to my solar plexus. I caught his heavy booted foot in my hands, my over-used muscles straining to keep my father’s attacks at bay.
    He let out a well-rehearsed stream of furious kicks and punches that I could barely keep up with, but I did. He did a flying kick but I ducked beneath him and rammed both elbows on either side of his spine, coaxing a pained grunt from the man. It was an unorthodox move, but why the Hell should I care? Right now all I wanted to do was run. So I did. While my enemy was down in the dirt I gathered the tiny reserve of energy I hadn’t depleted to nothing and sprinted away into the wild.
    By the time father was back up, I was gone.

    Three hours later found me trudging along once again, the addition of scraped knees and skinned palms making me even more careful not to fall. Which in turn slowed me down, but it did keep me from falling into craftily hidden bogs. It was getting really dark now due to the blanket of clouds that had appeared from nowhere, cold too, and I could barely see what was around me even after having ages for my eyes to adjust. My warm breath rose high into the night sky, a plume of white against the rich black.
    I looked up and scowled; where was the moon when you needed it? At that point I could easily be persuaded into believing that everything was out to stop my escape. What had I done to deserve this? With a groan of desperation and temporary defeat I slid down the trunk of a huge, smooth barked tree and deposited my arse on the ground. That was when I heard it.

    Night in a forest is not quiet, just so you know. People in cities tend to be drawn into believing that because there are no cars, nightclubs and brightly lit signs among the trees there is no nocturnal night. WRONG! Plenty of the natural Pokčmon species stay up way past your average human’s bedtime, letting their voices carry eerily out to any traveller, accompanied by the rustle of movement and the swish of wing. Me, I wasn’t afraid. If you have nothing really to lose I guess that means you’ve nothing really to fear. And after the incident with the Rattata and Hoothoot I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be attacked… not by the native Pokčmon , anyhow.
    But there was this one noise that stood out like a sore thumb against the coarse mumblings of the other creatures in the forest. It was the cry of a Pokčmon, long and wailing. It gave me the impression of silk, for all that that representation sounds bizarre, while all the others were cotton. But that’s when I realised why: it was the call of a daytime Pokčmon .

    So that got my immediate attention. I hauled myself from the dirt, rubbing my eyes and forcing my legs to carry me forward again. If my thigh muscles had mouths, they would have been complaining particularly loudly about how unfair this was, tricking them into believing I was going to let them have a rest. I’ve got to say that I’m happy muscles can’t talk.
    As always, my ears guided me true and I soon reached a small clearing in the woods. Ears pricked and senses on alert I crept forward, my eyes flicking over everything for trace of a flash of the lighter colour daytime Pokčmon normally were. On first look I didn’t see anything, but second…

    “Wow…” I whispered, my amber eyes glued to the little mound of blue huddled beneath a tree root.
On closer inspection I saw that it was a little bird-like creature, with silky sky-blue down covering its slightly chubby body. It looked to be about three feet tall and was shaped a little like a Swablu, but actually possessing a neck and head rather than a head/body combination. Its tail was fanned out on the ground behind it, curving and dipping over the ground like, well, silk. Perhaps my representation wasn’t quite so off…

    “W-who are you?” A tiny voice asked.
I looked around for the owner of the voice, but saw no-one else. But wait… was that the Pokčmon speaking?
“Do you talk?” I inquired, moving out of the bushes so the bird could see me completely.
“I ate some tasty berries,” It, no, she, certainly she, responded, “And now I can make human sounds.”
“Oh right.”
    From the sound of her voice and the words she was using I was pretty sure the Pokčmon was a baby. But what would a vulnerable child be doing out in the open during the night? “Are you alright there?” I couldn’t help but feel a little strange talking to a blue bird. A blue baby bird. What sort of phrasing are you supposed to use there?
    She shook her head, “I left mummy yesterday, but then I got stuck. I think a Linoone or Houndour might eat me if I stay here any longer!”
Houndour. So there were stronger Pokčmon around… I guessed that if there were an ounce of good in my body I had to play hero now and save this little creature before she was gobbled up.
“I’ll help you out.” I assured her, stepping closer.

    She looked wary at first, but didn’t do anything to resist. Why would she? If she stayed there she’d be dead by morning so there was nothing for her to lose.
‘Just like me…’ My mind chuckled.
The rest of me failed to see what was so funny.
    My life so far had practically defined the word ‘crap’. The first five years were good, filled with memories of my mother’s smiling face and my father’s lunchtime training sessions. But then, the day after I turned six, my mother was murdered by a lunatic with a knife. After that my father seemed to draw into himself. I never saw him smile and he spent all his time training in his gym. I used to watch him from behind one of the bleachers, but he eventually caught me. After that, he decided to train me too. From that day forth my life was made up of sleeping, training, going to school and eating. I used to daydream in class about what I could be doing if I weren’t stuck with my father and from those thoughts grew my rebellious spirit. Damn you father, look what you did.

    I reached the tiny bird, pushing away thoughts of my not-so-nice past, and crouched down beside her. She looked up at me with fearful black eyes as I examined her, looking for what part was trapped.
“My left wing.” She whispered with a nod.
“Okay, um…?”
“Polienix.” She responded, “The ice/psychic bird Pokčmon .”
I felt the breath catch in my throat and for a moment I froze, caught in the trap of memory.

    “So, which Pokčmon is that?” My mother asked me, holding my hand with hers and pointing with the other.
“Charmander!” I laughed, pointing at the book too, “And that’s Squirtle and Oddish and Lapras and Sentret and Skurskit!”
“Right!”
    My mother’s smile took up all of my vision. It was like the air was happy in her presence, like we were always bathed in a sunny yellow glow. Even when it rained, I was always happy around my mother. Father was stood in the corner, smiling to himself while he watched us. He never joined in, but that was because he preferred his own physical strength to that of the amazing creatures people caught in Pokčballs.
    “Now,” brushing a loose strand of her brown hair out of her face mum turned the page, “Which is that?”
My five-yr-old eyes gleamed in excitement as I gazed lovingly at my favourite page. The background was dark blue and sparkling, a huge majestic bird spread across its width. The Pokčmon’s feathers were a shimmering cross between sky blue and lilac, little thunderbolts of violet streaking across its body. It had a long tail and an impressive wingspan, its head held regally on a long swanlike neck. Its wings curved perfectly around the tiny bird before it; Polienix, and it was Articairion, the ice/psychic bird Pokčmon .

    “Articairion!” Little kid me laughed, bouncing in my mother’s lap and giggling, “When I grow up I’m gonna be the Pokčmon league champion and Articairion’s gonna be the strongest Pokčmon ever ‘cause I trained her!”
“Of course she will.” My mum agreed, that same smile still wrinkling the corners of her almond shaped eyes.
“If our Raven chooses to become a Pokčmon trainer.” Dad’s deep voice added.
“Of course I will daddy. To train Pokčmon is the bestest thing in the whoooole wiiiide world!”

    “Polienix…” I murmured.
“Huh?” Polienix looked up at me, “What?”
“Ah,” I shook myself, “Nothing much.”
The psychic/ice chick gave me a sceptical look as I reached for her wing, but let me lay my hands on her soft downy feathers. They felt just as I had imagined them, smooth, yet soft and icy cold. A little shiver vibrated down the wing as I did my best to remove it from its jammed position in between two gnarled roots so I stopped.
    “Does that hurt?” I gave another slight pull.
“Yu huh.” Polienix responded, tears of pain pooling in her brave eyes, “I kept pulling all day and now it hurts a lot…”
I nodded, “Okay, I’ll just have to move the roots instead.” My eyes were already scanning the base of the tree for a place that might be a weak spot, hungrily searching for a place to aim my kick.     “You can do that?”
“My father trained me…”
“That’s nice of him!” She interrupted.
“…Against my will.” I continued, glaring at her.

    A little ‘oh’ was all she said in reply. Preparing myself I advised her to cover her face from splinters before aiming a slamming kick at the roots.
“Hoooyii!!” I yelled, letting rip like I normally did in the arena.
SMASH! The left root came free in a shower of splinters, bathing myself and the freed Polienix in sawdust. The little bird sneezed and hopped back a bit, her wing trailing in the dark dirt.
    “Sorry.” I apologised to the tree, “But what must be done, must be done.”
“It’s good of you to respect the forest,” Polienix decided, “So many other humans happily massacre us Pokčmon and ravage our beautiful home. Oo!”
She squeaked as an attempt to move her wounded wing sent jolts of pain through her body. I was down there in an instant, seeking any open wounds or obvious breaks. Sure, I’m not good with people, but I can spew my guts around Pokčmon without knowing that they were analysing my every move. There were no “Oh, what sad taste in fashion she has” or “She’s got the worst figure I ever did see and the attitude to match” in the Pokčmon world. Here was my home… Just like I always dreamed as a kid.

    “Is it bad?” Polienix questioned nervously, her black eyes darting from my face to the wing and back again.
It was swelling quickly, forcing the feathers to stick out at odd angles, but I couldn’t see any sign of a break. Still, just to be careful… I stood up and glanced around me. The moon had come out sometime during my memory burst a few minutes ago so now I could see relatively well.     ‘Let’s see, I left Malmarsh three days ago, running some of the way but also lying half dead for nearly eighteen hours. I’d say I was…’
I looked up from the bit of dirt my eyes had been boring into while I thought.
“About half a mile from Route 39. That means the Pokčmon centre in Olivine…” I said out loud.
“Pokčmon centre? That’s where the kind people heal us, isn’t it?” Polienix inquired, a hopeful look shining in her eyes.
“Yup. If I take you there Nurse Joy can heal you and then you’re free to go, alright?”
    Polienix looked overjoyed, her plump bird face practically glowing with gratitude. Without much delay I lifted her from the ground and placed her in my arms, being extra careful not to injure her wing any further. I would have run all the way if I weren’t afraid of hurting my precious burden, so instead I walked, a little more careful on my feet than I was before since I no-longer had a free hand to catch me if I fell.
    ˝ a mile wasn’t really far, not to my trained body, but suddenly the weight of the day was heavy on my shoulders and I felt my feet start to drag. But I held my head high and blinked away the sleepiness that was clouding my vision and skewing my perception. I never said there weren’t good sides to my unnatural stubbornness…

    After maybe fifteen minutes of walking I saw the first sign of human inhabitation: a flicker of light through the dense shielding of the trees. I quickened my pace and a sleepy Polienix shifted slightly in my arms.
“Are we nearly there yet?” She wondered, blinking droopy lids.
“Almost.” I replied.
    As if on cue the forest started to thin out and eventually we were on a tame grass field that smelled strangely of cows. In fact, as I headed toward the field gate I found myself having to pick my way carefully so as to avoid stepping in a Miltank pat.
“Eww, what’s that?” Polienix wanted to know, titling her head to aim an eye at one of the dark splodges on the ground.
“Something that should be in a toilet, if Miltank were potty trained.” I responded disgustedly, opening the gate with a loud creak. I flinched, someone had to have heard that from the house, but when I looked no old farmer with a rifle was headed my way and, hey, I wasn’t complaining.
    Now we were on the hard packed earth of a well used path and I couldn’t help but smile at leaving that forest and its bogs behind. Sure, I was so tired I probably looked like some sort of zombie, but a Nurse Joy couldn’t possibly refuse an injured Pokčmon, even if she chased me out with a broom shortly afterwards. Somehow, I couldn’t see one of those kind hearted women doing that to anyone, even me.

    “I’m tired, Raven. I’m going to sleep.” Polienix informed me just before her head flopped against my arm.
I would have asked how she knew my name before I told her, but she was obviously worn and, besides, it was fairly obvious anyway. She was part psychic, after all. I only wished I could sleep right now too…

   As you can see, there are created Pokemon in this fic. If you have any trouble picturing one and I haven't put a picture in the text, you can always visit my site and have a quick look through the pokedex there for help. I can guarantee you that Raven will have at least three createds on her team, so if you're having problems picturing them this might be a very good idea! Anyhow, it's time for the Next chapter!