Chapter 12

	For the duration of his slow crawl to safety, the end of the tunnel was just a faint speck of light to Lono's eyes. Adrenaline fading, his wound caught up to him, each step bringing with it a precise and painful stab inside his chest; lugging around his unconscious sister wasn't helping it. But even with all the pain and weight he burdened, he still managed to make the five mile trek back to Florges Guild.


The late afternoon light beaming down the entry hole warmed the dragon with a mild heat. He called out with the strongest voice he could muster, “Hey!” No response. He tried a second time, but his broken rib cut it short to a nasty cough. Some liquid left his mouth as he coughed, a strange metallic taste at the back of his tongue hinted that it was his blood.

He collapsed to his knees, too weak to be holding his sister while standing around idle. “I'm never gonna get help,” he huffed to himself, hanging his head down low. “What a mess today turned out to be-”

A small splash of sand from above hit him on the back of his head, causing him to raise back up in surprise. It felt like someone was throwing sand down the hole, not to fill it back up, but to provoke him on purpose. “H-hey,” he yelled, the walls of the tunnel echoing his voice, “is someone up there?”

Two heads popped out from the edge of the tunnel in response to his cry: a Bellsprout, and a Tangela. “What do you want?” the Bellsprout demanded, flush with anger. She may have been swept up in the evacuation attempt, but the familiar faces of the dragons- and the destruction they caused- was still very fresh in her mind.

“I-I need help up,” Lono replied in an exhausted squeal.

"Go away!" Bellsprout picked up another handful of sand, and dropped it on top of the dragon. Lono stepped back, dodging the dirt ball while watching it rain like a soft veil of earth.

"I'm being serious," he shouted.

“Why should we help you?” the Tangela asked him. “You're probably just gonna destroy the rest of the guild if we help you up-”

Lono let out a distressed roar, “I'm here to turn us in!”

Bellsprout and Tangela stood speechless. They peer at each other, sharing a look of confusion for a moment, before Bellsprout said, “we don't believe you!”

His sister's weight pushed him to the ground again. His coughing grew harsher and spewed more blood across the rocky surface. “I-I'll explain, later,” he said in a scratchy tone, “right now, we need medical atten-”

“Because of you, our nurse is working her hands to the bone,” Bellsprout replied.

“What makes you think she's in any mood to see you?” Tangela asked.

“Don't you want your reward?” Lono asked them.

“Reward?” something about that sounded tempting to the Grass-type duo.

Lono collapsed further into his lap from the pain, suppressing a roar of discomfort behind his teeth. “Y-yeah, reward,” Lono told them. "If you capture us alive and turn us to the authorities, You'll be paid a lot of money- you have to help us up, first!"

"But why would an outlaw want to be caught?" Bellsprout asked him. "That doesn't make sense to-"

A third, much older voice called from the background, "Bellsprout, Tangela, what are you doing over there? I told everyone to stay away from-!" Guildmaster Bisharp peeked his head over the edge of the hole, wanting to know what caught the two young explorers' attention.

As soon as he spotted the two outlaws down below, Bisharp reeled back. "Bring them up," he told them in a stern voice. "Now!"

The two grass-types unraveled their vines down the hole. Like a snake coiling its prey, they wrapped tightly around the two outlaws. As soon as they lifted the dragons up, Bellsprout and Tangela were overwhelmed by their combined weight, but Bisharp held them firmly underneath his arms as they continued reeling them in.

"Ow. Ow. Ow." Lono mumbled each time he bumped into the side of the hole. Their combined weight swayed like a pendulum, occasionally knocking him against the wall.

The higher they pulled the dragons up, the more their vines wanted to snap from strain. Crossing the hallway point of the tunnel, it pained them to reel their catch in another inch higher. "How are we even doing this?" Tangela grunted under his breath.

Bellsprout replied, "Don't stop now, Tangela, just keep going!"

"Keep it up," Bisharp encouraged the grasslings, "you're doing good, you almost got 'em."

With one final burst of combined strength, Tangela and Bellsprout heaved the dragons out of the hole. Out of strength and breath, they fell to the floor near their haul, huffing out their soreness and exhaustion.

"I-I can't believe we did that," Bellsprout wheezed.

"Y-yeah, me, too," Tangela agreed.

His chest felt like it was on fire, each empty breath he took was killing him with a precise, sharp jab. Lono clawed toward the approaching Bisharp, with hopes that the guildmaster could help him, even if it meant being captured. "H-help me, please, hel-" he coughed up a spray of blood at the Dark-type's feet before hitting his head on the ground.

Blissey's Double Team clones were nowhere to be seen; they retired before the dragons ever reached the guild. "Bellsprout, Tangela, go alert your medical officer that two Gabite have arrived, and need attention," he told the winded grass-types.

"Y-yes, sir." Picking themselves up as they caught their breaths, they both raced to the nurse's office.

Bisharp took to his knees to comfort the hurting reptile. The heavy wound across his chest was too defined to be from a simple stumble or accident- he was attacked. Bisharp's eyes zoomed to the second Gabite near his left, and she didn't fair any better than her brother.

Her body took on a somewhat darker tone than that of her neck and head. Checking for a pulse, her skin even felt ice cold and stiff to his metallic claw. A pulse was present, but her excessive shivering numbed it. "She fell unconscious from being too cold," Bisharp said to himself. "She must have been struck by an Ice-type move." That was the only explanation he could think of, there was no other reason a dragon-type would have body temperature this drastically low in the middle of summer.


What a crowded day it has been for Blissey; the chaos slowed down, but not the stress. Just when she thought everyone was taken care of, a new case would emerge. Worked to the bone, the nurse wasn't given a single second to catch a break, but she stayed on her toes.

She wasn't ready for the surprise Bisharp fished out for her. There was no mistaking them, they were the Gabite from earlier who burned Scyther right before her eyes. She wasn't interested in hearing how they got in the terrible shape they were in; her gut even told her to refuse them help. But despite her grudge for the dragons being thicker than an Aggron's steel plating, she had a job to perform.

Under Guildmaster Bisharp's close eye, she placed her flippers on top of the brother Gabite's broken chest, releasing a tingling ray of light throughout his body, and reconstructing his loose rib back into place. Lono took several deep breaths of relief, that sharp, jabbing pain that used to occupy his side vanished like a bad dream. He savored the air's taste on his tongue: clean and smooth, with what's left of the taste of blood in his mouth fading.

"Thank you," Lono told the nurse with hope in his grin. Blissey didn't return his happiness.

"Why aren't you healing the other one?" asked Bisharp, noticing she was only working on the male Gabite.

"Heal Pulse won't work on conditions such as freezing or paralysis," answered Blissey as she pulled out a folded blanket from underneath one of her workstations. "Being reptilian, she lacks any actual way of producing her own body heat; she needs to be warmed by an outside source." The long, wide sheet of brown wool was laid flat on the ground, and with the help of a newly summoned Double Team clone, Blissey moved the unconscious Pele on top of the blanket. "We'll need to move her outside where it's nice and warm; this blanket will help insulate her body temperature."

"Move her to the front of the guild," Bisharp suggested, "that way, I can pick her up on my way out when she's able to move about."

Both Blissey took a corner of the blanket in each hand, and carefully lifted it with the dragon on top, coordinating with one another to move her out of the office, and into the warm sun outside.

Bisharp kept the feeling of guilt hidden behind a flat face. "All of this could have been avoided," he thought to himself. "If only I caught Team Sharktooth sooner, this wouldn't have happened. But what's done is done; there's no point in beating myself up over it."

His mind clear of doubt and pollution, he secured the Gabite beneath his knee, and fastened both of his arms behind his back. "You and your lot gave a good run," Bisharp told Lono, "but the fun's over. By the order of Bisharp Guild and the Seven Guild Association: I'm placing you under arrest."

"I don't care," Lono grunted. He carried no malice in his voice as the officer would expect, but rather a strange tone of acceptance and gloom.

"You're an unusual one," Bisharp remarked in mild awe as he handled the criminal with the ease of handling a young hatchling. Unlike others he arrested over the years, he sensed neither the energy nor the desire to fight back in Lono as he bound his claws with iron shackles. For once in his life: an outlaw made his job easy. "I have a few quick questions for you," he said. "Where is your leader, Ku? I noticed he wasn't with you when I rescued you, did he get caught in the cave-in that happened recently?"

First the dragon treated him to silence. For a few seconds he contemplated, and finally answered in a blunt tone, "Ku's in hell, where he belongs. He got what he deserved. The quicker I can forget about him, the better." Not an ounce of remorse was spared in his voice for his late leader. Upon saying that, a tremendous weight lifted off his chest. He never felt this good in years, never felt this free from the Pokemon who taught him resentment and hatred ever since he was a Gible. But before you take me in, may I speak to that Pokemon over there?" His snout pointed toward the bed Oran laid in.

"It'll only be a quick word," Bisharp told him.

"A quick word is all I need."


Her eyes wandered between her brother and the explorer's badge in her paws, wanting to make some sort of connection between the two. It was undeniable to her that it belonged to her mother, but one question remained: how did Oran get a hold of it? Pecha refused the only answer she could think of, the mere thought of it toyed with her nerves. "N-no," she chanted to herself under a soft whisper, "th-that can't be true. Sh-sh-she just has to come here, she just has to." She tightened her grip on its silver metalwork, but the frame wouldn't budge underneath her delicate paws. The many cuts in the stone reflected the sorrow in her face like little mirrors, taunting her that she's all she had left.

"Hey."

An unfamiliar voice broke her from the stone's hypnosis, looking up to see a Dragon-type standing on the other side of her brother's bed. She wiped the mist from her eyes with a quick swipe of her arm, and asked him, "what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see if this kid is doing okay," Lono told her.

"What's it to ya?" she asked in a defensive tone.

"I defended him against my leader," he told her. "Had it not been for me and some Lopunny, he might've-"

"You know my mom?" Pecha leapt out of her seat, meeting the dragon more closely. She showed him the badge, "did she have something like this? Is she all right? Tell me, please, I haven't seen her since this morning!"

Lono looked her in her black button eyes, clearly seeing the worry and anxiety eating her from within. A lump formed in his throat, draining his strength to speak to her. He hated being the bearer of bad news to anyone, especially to a little girl, but it was something he had to tell her. "I-I'm sorry," her said, "but she didn't make it. My sister and I barely made it out in time before the cave collapsed, but your mother and my leader stayed. She's gone."

Pecha went quiet, letting the badge slip out of her limp grasp. Something in her chest dropped, and she couldn't fight the tears back. "N-no, you're lying, y-you have to be lying! You're just saying that to make me mad!" She propelled herself from the bed with a single leap, and dashed out of the office in a heated huff.

Lono let out an exhausted sigh; he expected no other reaction from the young normal-type. After he showed the poor creature pity, and told her the truth, she'd much rather throw a fit and run away like the sheltered child she really was. "I guess it wasn't worth the effort, after all," he said to himself. He turned to the officer that kept his arms bound, and said, "Ready when you are." The sooner he left, the sooner he could make Florges Guild a bad, distant memory in the back of his mind.

Rustling of sheets caught Bisharp's attention before he almost stepped out of the room. The guildmistress perched herself up, with a hand placed on her throbbing forehead; the little Buneary's outburst disturbed her from her peace, or what little she received before then. Dark circles outlined her bloodshot eyes, and bruises dotted her porcelain white skin like Liepard spots. Some flowers around her neck dangled by their broken stems, while some even fell off, revealing small patches of bald skin. "O-oh, Guildmaster Bisharp," she said as she noticed him gazing back at her, "you're here already? What's with the shouting?"

"My friend here struck a nerve in one of your little ones, and she ran out," he told her, briefly presenting her the bound wrists of his captive. "If it weren't for your Tangela and Bellsprout, I wouldn't have been able to capture the bandits; I'll be sure to pay them well. I'll be taking him and his colleague back to my guild for interrogation." He went quiet for a moment, turning his head away as if in shame. His guilt urged him to tell the guildmistress of his fault, of how Florges Guild fell because he failed to catch the attackers on time, but he held his tongue back in the presence of his captive. To give an excuse of why he failed within earshot of a criminal he pursued for a year would paint him as soft and careless. "If anyone catches wind of this, it may inspire another incident," he told her. "The other guilds will be notified about this; I'm sure they already know about it. I wish you and your members a speedy recovery."

"O-oh," Florges said, "thank you, Bisharp." She didn't know what else to say to him, other than that.

In an orderly line, Bisharp walked Lono out of the room, with his captive's occasional discomforting gripe echoing through the halls.

In the silence of the medical ward, the voice from earlier played in Florges' head like a broken record, tormenting her from laying back down. Looking over to Oran's bed, she noticed one less visitor that used to be there before she laid down.

"Where could she have gone?" Florges asked herself.


Once she had Pecha on her mind, she couldn't get her out. But as she wandered about her guild in search of the young kit, she felt a strong pull within herself as if tied to a line and letting fate reel her in to where she needed to be. This sense proved to be accurate, the closer she approached Lopunny's room, the more clearly she could hear someone crying in it. She poked her head through the doorway, and there she saw, curled up in a ball, the Buneary loudly sulking in the middle of her mother's mattress.

"Pecha, are you all right?" Florges asked in a soft voice a mother would use to pacify her troubled child.

Pecha gave no response, and continued her weeping.

The guildmistress moved in a little closer to where she hunched over her slightly. She asked her again, "are you all right, Pecha?"

But again, the Buneary ignored her.

It was clear to her she was ignoring her on purpose. She eased up to give her more space, and for a moment, sat there in quiet contemplation. On one hand, she wanted to comfort her in any way she could; on the other, she thought it best to leave the Buneary be.

"It's okay to talk to me, Pecha," she told her, "I want to help you."

Pecha held back her sobbing for a moment or two as she raised herself up to speak. "Th-that Gabite," she stuttered, "he, he said my mom is, she's dead!"

Florges seized up like a statue, suddenly feeling the situation switch from bad to worse.

"I know he's lying," Pecha continued, though the cap on her emotions started to loosen. "He's an outlaw, why should I trust him? I know she's all right, sh-she has to be. She's gonna walk through that door any minute now, I know she will!" After her outburst, she collapsed face first back into the mattress. "Wh-what am I supposed to do, Miss Florges?" She asked the guildmistress, covering her head with her paws to hide her grief. "I-if mamma is dead, I'll have no one else left; I don't even know if Oran and Scyther will make it!"

Florges was at a loss for words. She wanted to say something kind, anything to help ease the child's pain, but nothing came to mind. Placing a hand on Pecha's shoulder, and showing her a gentle smile, she told her in a soft whisper, "You'll always have me."

She lifted her head from behind her paws, and tried to repress her excessive huffing as she glanced at the guildmistress through watery lenses. The anguish in her eyes seemed to soften toward, but she still held on to her resentment.

"I understand you want to feel angry," Florges said, "and that's okay, but I don't want you to feel like this was your fault. Your mother may be gone, but she helped protect the guild; she wasn't the only member I've lost, but I'm thankful for all of them doing their best to protect us."

Pecha quickly threw Florges' hand off of her shoulder, "But she didn't need to die!" her distressed cry rung inside of Florges' ears. "She could have protected us and still live! She didn't need to leave me; it's not fair!"

The sudden burst of aggression caused Florges to recoil back in shock. She was so careful as to not aggravate the Buneary any further in her vulnerable state, and yet, she ended up triggering her anyway.  It gave her the impression it wouldn't matter what she said, it'd only anger the little rabbit further.

“I-I apologize,” she murmured, “I didn't mean it to sound like that.”  drawing a short, depressed huff, she continued, “I just thought you needed someone to talk with; maybe it's best if I leave you be for now.”  Slowly getting up from the Buneary’s side, Florges started to walk out the door, but paused as she neared the doorway. “I meant what I said earlier,” she told her.  “I do love both you and Oran dearly, just as I love all of my members.  You aren’t the only one who lost someone- I’ve also lost many today.  I want to cry, too, but as guildmistress, I’m expected not to let it drag me down; otherwise, I drag everyone else down.  If you need someone to talk to, I’ll always be here for you.”  Florges walked out of the room.

Fastened to the bed by her own loneliness,  Pecha had nothing but her woeful cries to accompany her in the guildmistress’ absence. She felt angry with the world for what it took from her; it was like fate itself conspired against her, and all she did was exist.  
“M-mamma,” she sniveled, with no one to answer back.  “I know that dumb dragon is wrong; I kn-know you're still alive.  Wh-wherever you are, I'll be waiting here for you.” 
