With a grunt, I levered my leg off my mount’s back, settling on to the worn dirt path, trying to avoid the arrows covered in slushy snow. ‘“Thanks for the ride,” I told the cheery Dragon-type.
“Lizar, Cyc!” The Cyclizar taxi I’d hired, a charming fellow by the name of Turbo, judging by his nametag, shook his head, pretty clearly telling me that it was no problem.
“I shouldn’t be too long. You don’t mind waiting?” I asked.
“Cyclizar!” He shook his head, before holding up a forelimb with one claw raised. “Cyclizar.”
“One hour?” I asked, to which I received a nod. “I think we can finish things up in that time. Here, as thanks.” I dug around in my satchel, pulling out one of the berries I’d purchased on my way out here.
The ride Pokémon happily munched on the tip as I walked a few steps over to the gate at the edge of the property. A bell hung from a post recently driven into the snow-covered ground, the metal on the noisemaker still shiny and new. I gave the hanging tassel emerging from it a small, experimental flick, and a light ringing sound came out.
Almost immediately, clipped bleating came from the property on the other side of the unpainted wooden fence. A few moments passed, before the sound of clopping hooves passed the fence and just a few seconds after that, a familiar figure came into view. The Grass-type was all grey fur and grassy pelt and quivering ears, and the sight of her made my heart seize up for a second before I realized that, while I recognized her, she wasn’t the one I was here to see specifically.
“Myrrh, is that you”? I called out to the inquisitive Mount Pokémon.
The Skiddo’s eyes lit up in recognition, but it was quickly followed by a complicated expression that flashed across the normally-amicable Skiddo’s face.
“Can you tell Philip that I’m here? He should be expecting me.”
With a bleat of acknowledgement (and maybe relief), Myrrh departed to pass the problem (me) off to someone more senior.
It’d been less than a day since I called Philip. He offered to let me come visit his new ranch this morning, so long as I could make it out here on my own. Apparently he, his partners, and his family were still swamped getting everything set up.
And I could very much see that process in action as Pauline pushed open the gate and led me deeper into the property.
Grass-types and (presumably) Poole’s were hard at work all over the new ranch, erecting buildings, carrying supplies, painting facades, and doing a hundred other mundane things that I idly catalogued.
The bustling hive of activity stilled a bit around us, mostly I think because I was accompanied by Pauline. The Gogoat strode across the uneven ground like a queen holding court, and the hurried glances and shushed susurrations only reinforced the impression.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised everyone around seemed to hold her in such high regard. The amount of Skiddo hopping around the proto-ranch was truly astounding. I remembered there being nine of the Grass-types associated with outpost seven, but I’d already seen over three dozen of the energetic little Pokémon bounding about the property.
It seemed pretty unlikely that Pauline had sired literally every single one of their number, but how many generations of Skiddo were represented here? There were even another couple of Gogoats, off planting fence posts in the distance.
I knew that Pauline was a matriarch of sorts, but apparently, I’d heavily underestimated her fecundity. “Is everyone here family?” I asked the stately Gogoat, as she brought me closer to the half-built ranch house.
“Gogog,” she nodded. Mostly.
“I hadn’t realized that you and Philip have such big families.”
“Gogoat,” Pauline said. Private.
I would have thought it an effort in futility to try and hold onto that privacy when they had so many Skiddo working directly with us, but apparently I would have been wrong, because like I’d told Pauline, I hadn’t had any idea at the magnitude of their extended family.
Because as many of the little bounding Grass-types as there were around the ranch, there were nearly as many humans. Adults, children, elders, and babies galore, and a plethora of non-Skiddo partners accompanying them, all giving way to Pauline as if she were a queen.
It didn’t take long for us to arrive at the half-constructed ranch house, its wooden facade unfinished and unpainted. My escort nodded to the front door, and I walked forwards, knocking twice on the portal before pushing it open.
The inside of the building was much tidier than the outside, mostly because there wasn’t anything to crowd it other than scattered tools and disentangled pieces of construction material. It was still much warmer, however, clear effort had been put into making the space livable first and foremost, and the toasty interior had me stripping my winter jacket off so I could carry it under one shoulder instead of cooking in the heavy garment.
“I’m in the back,” Philip’s smooth voice echoed from further in the building, and I followed the gentle invitation through the barren halls to a dimly lit office near the rear of the house. This space was much closer to being finished than the rest of the building, and had a desk set up in the rear of the room. It was covered in documents, and lit by the afternoon sun filtering in through an open bay window just behind it. And leaning back in a chair at said desk was my former coworker, Philip Poole.
The older man was wearing his years like they’d been dropped on him all at once. His gray hair looked wispy and fading without the crimson cap atop his head, and his wiry arms were covered in spots and pits that I’d never paid much mind to before, evidence of who knew how many hard days in the sun. I’d never really thought of the former ranger as elderly before, but he was probably close to the same age as my Bubu, and I’d always thought of him as being ancient.
“Fe, glad to see you’re up and at ‘em,” the gray-haired man sat up a bit, groaning forwards in his seat and resting his arms on the desk in front of him.
“Thanks, I’m feeling a lot better,” I nodded at the older man. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m–” the man visibly hesitated, before slumping again in his seat. “I’m tired Fe. Everything that happened a few weeks ago, and now this insanity from the corps…” he trailed off, but I didn’t need to work hard to connect the dots.
“Wasn’t a hard choice to take the out, was it?”
I hadn’t meant to sound accusing, but based on the wince on Philip’s face, I’d rather missed that target. “It does feel like things happened to work out rather well for me. All the benefits of forty years with the corps for just over thirty-five. It definitely feels like I’m getting away with something.” The elderly man wore a grin, but it was anemic, faltering. The scars of last month’s events were still visible on both of us, mine on my skin, and his in the way he couldn’t bring himself to look at my bare arms.
“You never told me you had synergy sickness,” I tried to change the subject.
“It never came up,” Philip replied with a shrug. “Honestly, it was way more common in my generation, so I never really thought of it as a big deal. Hell, back when I was a kid, plenty of folks didn’t bother doing any sort of battle break, and not all of them for the same reason as me.”
“Well– I’m glad things are working out for you Philip. I… it’s nice to see that some good is coming out of all of this.” I found that I meant it, and tried to convey that through my voice, my tone. Philip had only ever been good to me, even when he’d been severe or demanding, and he and his deserved all the best in my book.
I wasn’t sure Philip felt the same, but he offered me another wan smile. “Thanks Fe, you’re a good kid. I wish– I wish it had all turned out different.”
I didn’t have the same level of regrets as Philip did about my encounter with a shadow Pokémon, but that didn’t mean there weren't things I'd have preferred to do over. And I was here this morning to address one of them as best I could. “So Clover agreed to meet with me?”
Philip’s expression, which had been contrite and resigned through the conversation thus far, took a harder edge, one I was more familiar with after almost a year spent learning from and training with the man. “She did Fe, but it was a close thing. You really hurt her, you know?”
“I do,” I nodded solemnly, making sure to meet the man’s eyes, no matter how much I wanted to turn from his accusatory gaze. “I don’t regret the choice I made, but I wish I could have found a way to do it without hurting her.”
“I’ve heard her side of the story, and read your report, but I need it straight from your mouth Fe, why’d you try to send her away?” Philip sat up a bit, some fire back in his eyes as he took me to task for the harm I’d done to one of his charges.
I took a deep breath, and then another. “We were losing, Philip. Before Mana turned everything around– it looked bad. She got hit by the Butterfree, and I thought she was done for. My knights were already knocked out, and I’d sent Maushold away earlier. It’d have just been Clover and I against that Pokémon, and I didn’t like our odds. I asked her to run, and made sure my knights’ ball was tied to her saddle. I wanted her to get them, and herself, out of there.”
“And leave you and Mana behind?” Philip asked with a raised eyebrow.
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“I was weighing her down too much, the Butterfree would always catch up if I was riding her. And Mana,” my mind flashed back to that awful day, dirt and blood and sleet and pain. My knights, poisoned and disabled. Mana, seemingly smashed into the ground by a sharpened blade of air. “I thought it was already too late for her. And me. That’s why I told Clover to run. I didn’t want anyone else to die for my mistakes.”
Philip stared at me for five seconds, ten. I did my best not to whither under his gaze. I knew what I’d done would hurt Clover, but I’d rather her betrayed and alive than the other way around. Eventually, the older man sighed, and slumped back in his seat, looking once again like he had when I first walked into the room. “I can’t say I don’t understand why you made the choices you did,” he paused, clearly struggling with what he wanted to express,” but Fe, did you ever stop to think that maybe that wasn’t your choice to make?”
I looked up at Philip. Somehow, I’d found myself staring at my own feet. “I mean, Clover was my responsibility, and so were my knights. I had to keep them safe.”
“And you were theirs,” Philip rebutted plainly. “The price of alleviating your guilt was passing it forwards onto them. You realize that, yes?”
“But they’d have been alive!” I protested, though it sounded weak in my own ears. "Wouldn't that have been worth it?”
“Like I said, that should have been their choice to make, not yours. Your relationship with your Pokémon is a partnership Fe, which means you need to trust them to make the right choices.” Philip’s eyes were drilling into my own, and I wanted nothing more than to look down at my feet again. “Clover still thought you guys had a chance, that it was worth fighting just a little bit longer. Why didn’t you respect that?”
“I just– the only reason they were out there was because of the choices I made. I was the one who wanted to go out and do some sort of the mission, I was the one that dragged everyone into danger.”
“And they chose to follow you into that danger!” Philip shouted over me, pointing his finger at me. “It’s important to acknowledge your mistakes Fe, to own up to them, but like I said, you're in a partnership, your partners have to agree to go with you. They trust you to make the right choices, and you have to do the same!” The older man’s voice reverberated off the walls in the mostly-bare office, echoing through the space as we stared at one another.
A moment passed, and another. My clenched fists released, and I found my eyes seeking the ground once more. “I know,” I said, my voice quiet in the cavernous space. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust Clover. I shouldn’t have forced her to run away. I was– I was scared. I thought it was the end and– and I made a mistake.”
“Well it doesn’t do any good to say that to me,” Philip said, his voice low, his earlier fire already spent.
“I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to Clover,” I forced myself to look up once again. “I understand if she doesn’t want to see me, but if she’d be willing– I want to tell her that I’m sorry. Face to face.”
The former ranger sat slumped in his chair. “And if she doesn’t want that?”
I swallowed thickly. “Then that’s her choice to make, and I’d respect that,” I felt stinging in my eyes, but I refused to reach up and wipe them. “Just, if you could tell her that I was here? That I’m sorry?”
“I could tell her that,” Philip reassured me. “If it’s necessary.”
I blinked a few times, unsure of what he meant, as the gray-haired man tilted his head towards the window behind his desk.
A few uncertain moments passed, before a familiar gray head peeked through the open bay window, soulful brown eyes wavering as they sought to meet mine.
I stood transfixed, pinned in place by that melancholy gaze, and I had to fall back to another part of my mind to force myself into motion. “Clover,” I breathed, as I steadfastly continued to ignore the stinging in my eyes. “How long– um, did you hear all of that?”
The Grass-type nodded slowly, even as her eyes never left mine.
“Can I… can I come over there?” I asked, every cell filled with trepidation.
She hesitated, and I felt my stomach lurch, but the uncertainty eventually gave way to another nod.
Slowly, on unsteady feet, I walked around the desk to the open window, Philip wheeling his chair aside so I could pass by. I stood in front of Clover, who’d reached her head in through the open aperture, and I reached out a hesitant hand.
A gap formed between us, for just a moment, before the solemn Grass-type nosed forwards a little more, letting my hand come to rest on her horns.
Apparently, there’s some scientific debate on whether or not Skiddo and Gogoat can actually empathetically feel the emotions of their riders through their horns, or if the phenomenon has a more mundane explanation. The naysayers argue that the Pokémon could be perceiving the moods of others through minor things like grip intensity and position, or even subtler signals like temperature and pulse.
I was almost completely certain that anyone who took that position had never ridden a Skiddo in their life. Hell, I’d bet they’d never even interacted with one.
Because when you laid hands on a Skiddo’s horns, no doubt could exist in your mind about their capabilities.
Clover knew me, and I knew her, and the sensation, the feeling of it, was completely unmistakable. It wasn’t quite the connection I shared with my partners, it lacked the depth or strength of that bond, but it was incredibly clear. There was no ambiguity in what Clover wanted me to know about her feelings, any more than I could hide my own from her.
She was angry. Oh she was definitely angry. A simmering font of roiling upset hidden just below the placid surface. That wasn’t what pierced me to my heart, though. No, the thing that made me want to recoil back as if burnt was the thin, razor edge of disappointment flensing the connection. The unprompted feeling that this might just be a waste of time, a waste of hope.
I could only hope that the remorse I felt, the contrition could do something to dull that keen blade. And yet, I could feel that it wasn’t enough. Clover didn’t just need to know that I had regrets, she needed to know why. “I’m sorry,” I said out loud, my voice unsteady as I clung to the disgruntled Skiddo’s horns. “I tried to send you away because I thought the situation was hopeless, but you knew it wasn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you. Didn’t trust you. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
The Grass-type had her eyes closed, and through her horns I still felt disappointment, but it was muted now, no longer as biting. Her anger had petered out, leaving behind a sodden pit of sadness, and just a little tinge of grief. “Skiddo. Ski ski, skid. Skiddo,” she bleated, a complicated message that I could only understand with the context understanding her emotions gave me.
“I’ll do better in the future, Clover, I promise. I won’t– I won’t hurt anyone else like I did to you. I swear.”
“Skiddo. Skiddo. kidkiddo.”
“I wish we could go back too.” But we couldn’t. The trust between us was broken, and I could tell that a heartfelt apology wasn’t going to fully fix that. “I hope you find peace on the ranch, Clover. Or joy, or love, or whatever you're looking for.”
Her uncertainty was as plain to me as mine to her. “Skiddo. Skiddo, dodo, skid.”
“Thank you. We won’t stop looking either. Please don’t– don’t be a stranger Clover. If you ever need anything, Philip can contact me.”
“Skidd kiddo,” with a gentle tug, Clover pulled her head away, and the connection between us closed shut, maybe for the last time. With one final nod in my direction, she turned away, trotting from the ranch house’s open window with her head held high, visibly restraining herself from breaking into a run to reach the comforting embrace of her herd, waiting for her in the distance.
We both pretended not to notice the tears falling from the other’s eyes, freezing in the mid-morning snow.
-
“Thanks for coming out here Fe. I know it was hard for you, but I think it’ll be good for you and Clover both in the long run.”
Philip hadn’t commented on my mini-breakdown, other than to hand me a few tissues. I’d sucked in my sobs and wiped my nose with as much dignity as I could muster, and now we were walking back the way I’d come in, to the edge of the property. “Thanks for arranging for us to meet,” I replied to the gray-haired man. “I’m– I’m glad we got an opportunity to say what we needed to each other.”
“The same thing you said to Clover goes for you Fe, don’t be a stranger. It was only for a short time, but we were comrades. I won’t ever forget that,” Philip reassured me.
Behind him, I could see the sprawling ranch bustling with activity, a veritable hive of people and Pokémon hard at work. The sight ripped a question out from me, “Has this always been the plan Philip? This whole ranch?”
The former ranger nodded. “Ever since I returned from Kalos with Pauline in tow. We always knew that we wanted to create a place of our own up north from the city. We weren’t sure just how long it was going to take.” He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, “but we got there. And judging by how things are going in the city, not a moment too soon.”
“You really did,” my eyes caught a herd of Skiddo frolicking through the snowy meadows. “It’s beautiful. It’ll be an incredible place.”
“Thanks Fe,” he hesitated for a moment, and then turned to me. “And what about you? What’s next for you and your partners?”
My eyes sought out the snow-covered ground. “We’re still figuring it out. We’ve been giving it a lot of thought, but something sort of came up, and it’s getting in the way of us making any sort of firm decision.”
The older man’s mouth turned down in a frown. “Well far be it from me to meddle Fe, but if you’re willing to hear out an old man…” he trailed off, looking at me in askance.
I nodded, and he continued, “don’t let circumstances dictate your next steps. Form your own plans, and follow through on them. You’re a good kid Fe, and I know you’ll go far, if you chase what you really want. Just make sure that you’re going after the right thing, for you, and for your partners.”
“We’ll– we’ll find it Philip. What we really want. And when we know for sure, nothing’s going to stand in our way.”
“Good,” the older man held out a hand. “Goodbye Fe. And good travels.”
I took the proffered palm and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you Philip. All the same to you.”
-
Turbo the Cyclizar dropped me back off at my apartment, where my partners were waiting for me. My knights had offered to come along, but I had needed to face Clover alone, and they respected that.
Mana– might have been following me. I wasn’t positive, but every once in a while, I got the sense of her eyes on me, coming from a patch of snow or a sodden puddle.
And Maushold hardly even noticed my departure, focused intently as they were on their new clothing project (spherical yarn cozies for my knights that were shaping up to be absolutely adorable).
Still as soon as I returned, they were all there waiting to hear from me. “Clover’s doing well,” I reassured them as I put a hasty lunch together. “She’s settling in at the ranch Philip’s setting up with Pauline and their family,” I took a deep breath. “She– she didn’t forgive me, not really, but I think she’s going to be okay. That’s what matters.”
My knights nodded, accepting what I said at face value, but they didn’t trot off to do some sort of drilling or practice, content instead to sit at the kitchen table and yammer away while I worked. Mana settled into my hair, and Maushold put aside their project to help me make lunch, assembling portions for themselves and Mana.
Tomorrow was Sunday. Alyssa had another match scheduled in a stadium near the city’s western edge. We’d head out there together, and find a way to sneak Mr. Gima along.
Our training continued, until we could be sure Alyssa was safe.
And after that– we’d figure it out. Surely.
