Spoiler:
The bow was bent, the wind steady, the herd unaware. Sweat beaded on Subira’s brow as she lined up her arrow to strike a large Zebstrika mare. The young hunter couldn’t ask for a better shot. She breathed in sharply through her nostrils, pulled the bowstring back as far as it would go -
Behind Subira, some unseen twig or branch snapped. She whirled just in time to see a Liepard staring her down from a copse of trees, ears perked and eyes wide. Its jagged violet tail twitched; there was no more warning before it leaped toward Subira, jaws gaping, claws outstretched.
Gold filled Subira’s vision as she threw herself prone into the grass. The Liepard’s shadow blotted out the sun and terror gripped Subira; had she misjudged the beast’s leap? Then it was gone; there was a rustle and a thump, followed by the shrill bleating of a herd of terrified Zebstrika. Subira hurried, pulling herself into a crouch and pulling up her bow; she didn’t know where the Liepard was, and she wasn’t about to take any risks.
Of course, rather than chasing after the weak and sickly stragglers of the fleeing herd, the Liepard had turned its back on the Zebstrika and was instead snarling a challenge at Subira. She muttered a curse, reaching for the arrow she’d nocked previously - only to realize with a surge of frustration that the shaft was broken in two; it must have snapped when she ducked the Liepard’s blow.
The Liepard took one slow step forward. Its green eyes blazed with hatred; each knife-sharp fang and claw was on full display, but thank the spirits, it seemed wary of her now that it had lost its advantage of striking from ambush. Subira had brought weapons for hunting grazers, not cats, but she also knew that an unprepared hunter was a dead one. Slowly, painfully aware both that time was running out before the Liepard would pounce again and that any sudden movements would only cause it to spring sooner, Subira reached her free right hand down to her belt. The familiar, reassuring weight of a knife’s wooden hilt was there, and Subira held to it as tightly as she could.
It seemed that the Liepard changed into a blur of violet as it came for Subira - but this time, she was ready to protect herself. Her left hand released the bow and raised up to protect her throat; her right arced forward, slashing the iron blade at her foe. There was a hiss of pain as claws bit through the hide of Subira’s shirt; there was a caterwaul of anguish as her knife bit deep into flesh.
Subira drew the knife back, ready to strike again, but there was no need. The Liepard leaped away, blood streaming from its shoulder. It held its head and tail lower than before, but it still looked enraged, and it was crouched as if it might strike again.
“Honestly?” Subira widened her stance and held out her arms with the intent of making herself look bigger. Her own teeth showed in mimicry of the Liepard’s snarl. “Go ahead, stupid cat! I’m not afraid of you!” She waved her knife, which still glistened red in the sunlight.
For a moment, it seemed as if the Liepard might decide to press its luck. But after several tense moments, its ears dropped and it turned away. Its tail was low as it slunk into the trees to lick its wounds.
Only after the Liepard had completely disappeared did Subira allow herself to relax, exhaling the tension of a life-or-death fight. “Stupid cat,” she repeated, scooping up her bow and the broken arrow. Any other hunter would have hurried back to camp then, to warn the rest of the tribe that there was a dangerous predator Pokemon attacking humans despite not being starving or sick like most man-eaters were, but Subira felt no need. She simply watched the trees, trying to figure out what to do now that the herd had been scared away.
As she eyed the trees, Subira caught sight of a flash of bright feathers moving between branches. Her hand darted to her quiver for a fresh arrow; she was ready to shoot, but she stopped short before the arrow could fly.
Archen, Subira thought as the red-feathered Pokemon gave her a wide-eyed stare. Her lip curled in disgust. Unless the Pokemon attacked, there was no point to shooting it. A few mouthfuls of stringy meat and some hollow bones weren’t worth the risk of blunting an arrow in one of those trees. The two watched each other for a moment; unlike the Liepard, the Archen wasn’t even remotely aggressive. It simply stood and watched for a few moments before tilting its head, letting out a squawk, and turning tail to hop further into the woods.
Subira sighed. Those birds - Archen and Archeops - had to be the worst of all of Landorus’s creations. Fortunately, she was unlikely to run into any more of them today. The Zebstrika herd had scattered through the grassland; with any luck, she would be able to track them down before dark. Trying to ignore the feeling of eyes boring into her back from within the forest, Subira slid her bow and arrows back into her quiver and set off, crouched low to search out hoofprints in the grass.
-
“Why did you even go at that human, huh?”
Liepard didn’t reply; they simply continued to stalk through the trees, periodically stopping to take a few aggressive licks at the bloody wound on their shoulder. Folami followed doggedly behind with a series of hops, her blue half-wings continuously flapping to keep herself from falling.
“I didn’t think Liepard hunted humans,” Folami continued, tilting her head to the other Pokemon. “Was it because the human was in the way of the thunder-herd?”
For the first time, Liepard turned round to glare at Folami. “Quiet, bird.”
“I’m just curious!” Folami leaned forward as Liepard stopped again, flopping into a crouch to furiously groom their wound. “It was just a regular human hunting, right? Why get so vicious with it? It seemed like a dumb move, since it had weapons with it.” Folami’s talons twitched as she thought. “Did it have something to do with that weird red mark on its should - ack!”
Folami sprang up as Liepard rounded on her tree, sinking their claws into its bark. “By the spirits, bird, flutter home already!” A snarl rumbled in their chest, and their lips pulled back to reveal a full set of dangerous, gleaming fangs. “If you don’t quiet yourself, I will make you be quiet.”
“T-that’s,” Folami realized that she was trying to stagger backward and she had to extend her wings again to keep herself from plummeting to the ground. “That’s s-so unnecessary! And rude! I was just trying to ask a question!” Before Liepard could make good on their threat, Folami whirled, leaping to the next tree so quickly that she smacked head-on into the trunk. With fear and bruises equal parts on her boy and pride lending her urgency, Folami skittered away as fast as she could go.
It felt like half a day passed before Folami stopped bouncing from branch to branch like a whole drove of Liepard were nipping at her tailfeathers. She didn’t stop until she reached a knot of dense trees, where thick foliage and branches cast dark shadows on the forest floor. Her feathers were ruffled as she turned to check whether she’d shaken Liepard; the sunbeams that hit the earth showed nothing but ferns and rotting leaves.
A bright red grin greeted Folami a mere feather’s breadth away when she turned around. An undignified shriek tore out of her throat; furious, she scraped her claws across the other Archen’s beak. “Kofi! Don’t scare me like that!”
Kofi chirruped, his smiling beak undamaged by Folami’s display of rage. “You were already scared,” he pointed out mildly. His tail twitched as he glanced behind Folami; she followed his gaze, but there was still nothing there. “What was chasing you? A flock of demons?”
“A Liepard,” Folami corrected loftily. She hopped past Kofi and began to claw her way upward. Higher in the trees, the branches were dotted with nests of bracken and golden down. A few were empty, but most were filled with mottled eggs, peeping hatchling Archen, and Archeops mothers. The nesting grounds stretched out beyond sight, safe and comfortable and noisy with the squawks and squeaks of Folami’s fellows.
Folami didn’t wait to see if Kofi followed her; she raced through the branches, curiosity and excitement burning in her belly. It didn’t take long for her to find the Archeops she was looking for - a massive, battle-scarred hen sitting atop a peeping clutch of hatchlings. The hen seemed to be sleeping, but as soon as Folami was within earshot, her head lifted.
“Mother!” Abena, the oldest and most knowledgeable Archeops Folami knew, tilted her head to stare at her daughter. “Mother, the strangest thing happened today.”
“Something strange happens to you every day, Folami,” Abena said with a yawn.
Folami huffed impatiently. “I can’t help it if the world is strange, Mother. I just observe.” She shuffled impatiently on her branch as Abena preened Folami’s smallest brood of siblings. “I saw a Liepard attack a human hunter today. They -”
“Liepard are hunters, too. Are you sure you don’t have down in your brain?”
“I wasn’t finished! The Liepard wasn’t hurt or sick or dying or anything like that, but they still attacked a human that had weapons - a spike-chucker and one of those long shiny claws they hold!” Folami began pacing, her wings flapping in thought. “Why would they do that? I thought hunters only kill to survive. Why would a Liepard attack a human unless they were desperate?”
“Your tone tells me you already know.”
“I have a hunch, but it doesn’t make sense,” Folami confessed. “The hunter had a red mark on their shoulder. It wasn’t any of the plumage or pelts or dye that humans use to decorate themselves; I could see it through the pelt the human wore and it glowed -”
Folami broke off as she saw that Abena was staring her in the eye, feathers raising so far that Abena seemed to have doubled in size. “A human hunter,” she spat, “with a glowing scarlet pawmark on its shoulder. This is what you saw?”
Folami squawked with excitement. “I knew you would know what to make of this! Yes, that’s exactly what the mark looked like! And it actually made me a little angry when I looked at it, like - “
Abena thrust her head into Folami’s face. “Listen, child,” she said quietly, firmly. “You need to stop sticking your beak into every little thing and chasing every shadow that falls across your path. You are a hunter and a fighter. Focus on that instead of the stupid things humans and other Pokemon do.” Ignoring the indignant peeps rising from her hatchlings, Abena rose and stood on the ledge of her nest. “Leave humans - especially that marked one - alone.”
And then, in a rush of feathers thumping against air, Abena took flight, leaving no room for Folami to debate.
Kofi poked his head down from the branches above as soon as Abena was gone. His grin had only grown, and he chirruped with laughter. “You know, for someone so interested in collecting knowledge, you’d think you’d learn that she doesn’t like it when you go off like that.”
“Hmph.” Folami stared down at her talons as Kofi glided into Abena’s nest, keeping the hatchlings moderately placated with his presence while Abena was away. “I just thought she might be able to explain more about this. Liepard don’t attack humans unless they’re desperate, and humans don’t glow.”
For a few moments, Kofi was silent, turning his head to preen the crimson feathers at his neck. Without looking at Folami, he said, “I can’t really help you with the fact that your mother hates the fact that you’re forever asking ‘why’, but I can tell you why she got her feathers so ruffled over this human.”
Folami gawped. “Why?” Kofi snickered at the irony of Folami’s instinctive response, but the younger Archen wasn’t moved. “Please, you have to tell me! I swear by the sky and the abundant earth, I won’t tell a soul what you say.”
Kofi chuffed, looking up from his preening. “Well, if you promise.” He settled himself down further; his stillness, mercifully, spread to the hatchlings, who began to quiet down. “Abena hates that marked human because it is an abomination in the sight of every spirit,” he began, his voice slow and somber, “and because she failed to kill it when she got the chance.”
-
“Ah,” cried a booming voice, “the mighty hunter returns!”
Subira swiveled her head instinctively to see a smug young man standing over a Zebstrika hide with a smoothing stone in hand, and she stifled a groan. She’d been hoping to slink back into camp unnoticed, but that idiot Taonga had to go and make things difficult. She had to admit that if their positions were reversed - if it was him carrying only a single scrawny Pidove into camp after a full day’s hunt - she might have some choice words, but that knowledge did nothing to soothe her frustrations. Ignoring the way her tribe-mates turned to her with disapproving looks, she began weaving through the broad, brightly-painted hide tents toward the center of camp.
Unfortunately, Taonga seemed to consider making a nuisance of himself to be more important than the hide he’d been tanning. Grinning, he sidled up beside her and gestured grandiosely at the rest of the camp. “Look at her catch,” he cried. “Why, there might even be enough feathers on that creature to make a child’s toy.”
The other hunters were busy with their duties, but they still managed to spare a moment to look down their noses at Subira as she picked up a clay pot and began shearing feathers off the Pidove. Remaining silent was difficult, but possible - especially since, unlike another young hunter she could mention, she was actually focused on her task.
“What happened to the Zebstrika you were going to bring down today, eh? Herd smelled you coming and decided it wanted nothing to do with you?”
More feathers fell into the pot. Taonga wasn’t going to go away without some kind of response, was he? “Heard, not smelled, and what they heard was the Liepard that tried to kill me.” She pointed the skinning knife at her shoulder, where red-stained holes in the leather shirt marked the morning’s claw wounds. “By the time I got done fighting it back with nothing but my knife, the herd had fled.”
“Ah, of course, my mistake.” Taonga nodded solemnly. “That sounds like it was some pretty bad luck, eh?”
The venom in those last words sent a chill of anger down Subira’s spine. “That I was attacked, or that I survived?” she asked archly. Before Taonga could answer, she continued, “You seem to think you have all the time in the world, leaving skin half-tanned to come and distract me from making the most of this kill. What have you done today that gives you an excuse to drop your duties?”
For the first time, Taonga looked offended, but the young hunter recovered himself quickly. “Why, I’ve spent the day tanning - so you’ll be thanking me when that clawed-up shirt gets replaced.” He paused for a moment, watching as Subira pulled loose the last of the Pidove’s feathers. “Simiyu said the little grove just north of camp is growing in nicely. The Figy Berries are starting to ripen, and there’ll be a Sawsbuck herd passing through. He and I plan on hunting them tomorrow. You could come. We could use the extra bow.”
Subira paused for a moment. Was Taonga being serious? There wasn’t any mockery in his bearing now, at least as far as Subira could tell, but she also couldn’t help but remember the way he’d taunted her when she’d come into camp. And besides, if she hunted with him and Simiyu…
It wasn’t an option. “I hunt alone,” she said simply.
Taonga sneered, “Of course you do. After all, it’s not like anyone would want to hunt with you. The last people who did were your parents - and look at how well that turned out.”
The pot and the Pidove clattered onto the dusty ground; Taonga followed, Subira swinging her fist into his face and her elbow into his chest. Taonga attempted to push her off, but all he managed was keeping her punches from hitting his obnoxious, venomous mouth quite as hard. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about!” Subira barely heard herself, so loud was her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Taonga managed to grab her wrist; she dropped to one knee to pin him down and punched him again with her free hand. “Enough about my parents, enough about my luck - “
“Enough!”
The rough voice cut through Subira’s rage, so commanding that she stopped without hesitation to face its source. In the middle of the hunters’ space - though the only hunters remaining in it were Subira and Taonga; the others had retreated from the scuffle - an old woman stood, her long dreadlocks bleached white and her face rough with the wear of many years. Priestess Zula glared right into Subira’s eyes, arms folded into her voluminous scarlet dress.
“Off him.” Subira was reluctant, but she let go of Taonga. His lips and cheeks were red with blood, and one eye was already swelling.
Taonga’s sorry state did nothing to temper his tongue. “Did you see what that monster did? She was trying to kill me!”
Zula rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt that,” she snapped, “or that you were completely innocent in all of this. Go see Priest Inyene about your face; I or the Huntschief will deal with you later.” She turned to Subira. “You. Come with me.”
Subira clenched her fist. She wasn’t unused to seeing red on her palm, but it was supposed to be her own blood or the blood of Pokemon, shed in the hunt. Regret and shame bit into Subira’s heart, but what Taonga had said…
“It wasn’t my fault,” she growled at Taonga before walking away. She didn’t care what he, or Zula, or the other hunters thought she was talking about - her ruined hunt, the fight, her past. She knew that they thought she’d brought it all on herself, and she didn’t care. She knew the truth, even if everyone was determined to believe the worst of her.
-
“Three summers ago, Abena circled high above the treetops. She was a mighty hunter, even back then, powerful and fearless, strong to bring down prey and carry it back to her little ones.”
“That would have been when I was a fledgeling!” Folami burst out.
Kofi nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you about this,” he said. “Abena has ever been proud, but she was even worse then than she is now. Anyway, treetops, mighty, little ones. While she was looking for good prey among the forest, however, she came upon a group of human hunters - three in total, one young and two older. They - “
“They attacked her, right?” Folami asked, leaning forward. “One of them was the marked one and it attacked her for no reason, so she tried to kill all of them but failed, right?”
Kofi blinked. “Not at all,” he said, shaken out of his storyteller’s mystique. “Quite the opposite. Your mother saw that the young human had a glowing red mark on her shoulder. Seeing it, she became very angry, because she knew that it could only mean one thing.” He paused, as though waiting for Folami to unleash another volley of commentary, but he continued when she remained silent. “For reasons known only to the seeing sky and abundant earth, the human bore the curse of the great spirit Landorus - and such a mark means that it’s our duty as Pokemon to kill its bearer on-sight.”
Folami let out a shocked squawk. She supposed that it made sense now, the way the sight of the mark had angered her, but the rest sounded like nonsense and asked more questions than it answered. “Landorus would never do something like that! He’s kind, and killing is cruel.”
“Not always,” Kofi said. “We’re hunters, after all. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where food comes from?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a hatchling!” Folami snapped. “I know enough to know that killing is bad when it’s not for food! Why would Landorus want any Pokemon to hurt a human who didn’t do anything?”
Kofi scoffed. “How should I know? It’s not like any of us can just ask him. He’s Landorus, Folami; he has good reasons for what he does.” He eyed Folami with irritation. “Your mother failed to kill the marked human, but she did her duty when she tried. And the marked one no doubt didn’t forget it, either - its companions died trying to protect it. Anything under Landorus’s curse just spreads misfortune.”
“So the human deserved to get cursed because it spreads misfortune because it’s cursed.”
“That’s not how any of this works - “
“Then convince me otherwise! Because everything you’ve said just goes round and round like a Serperior chasing its own tail, which isn’t something you should do when you’re talking about potentially killing a living thing, even a cursed one - “
Kofi stared behind Folami, eyes wide; to Folami’s utter shock, he lunged out of the nest, clinging to the trunk of the nearest tree with his every feather standing on end. Folami opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but then the shadow of an Archeops passed over her. Abena dropped into the nest, bringing the leg of a Sawsbuck with her. As the hatchlings tucked in, Abena swung her head toward Kofi, who lowered his feathers and looked away.
“You idiot.” Abena’s voice was cold. “Would it kill you to stop feeding this skyling’s imagination?”
Folami protested before Kofi could speak. “He was telling me that you tried to kill a human even though it didn’t do anything to you!”
“I most certainly didn’t put it like that,” Kofi muttered.
“Silence,” snapped Abena, turning her harsh gaze on her offspring. “You should have let this go the instant I told you to do so.” Folami opened her mouth to object, but Abena’s beak snapped shut a feathersbreadth from Folami’s face. “That human is cursed by Landorus, and it is not your place to question it. If you hope to live long enough to earn your sky wings, you’ll learn to listen to your elders for once and stop being such a down-brained little fool.”
Folami’s legs and tail trembled, and she could feel her heart trying to beat right through her keel. “I don’t - you -” she couldn’t speak; instead, she turned and began hopping away as quickly as she possibly could.
“Folami! Wait! You’re going toward the human camp!” Kofi’s voice carried through the trees, but Folami ignored him. He was just like Abena, just like the rest of the flock. Closed-minded and angry and stubborn. They could call her a fool all they liked, but at least she bothered to try and think for herself.
-
For several long moments, there was only silence between Zula and Subira, crackling with tension like the air before a summer storm. Zula was busying herself with mending one of the priests’ garments; Subira merely sat just inside Zula’s hut, watching the tribe go by outside without her.
“He spoke like it was my fault that my parents were killed.” Subira broke the silence, though she still refused to look at Zula. “Again.”
“So you decided to shatter his skull, eh?” Zula’s voice was equal parts frustration and wry amusement. “Quite the mature reaction. No better way than that to get the tribe’s affection, either.”
Subira tensed. “Why should I care? They’re never going to approve of me, anyway.”
“Punching your fellow hunters helps nothing.”
“That’s fine, because nothing helps.” Subira rose to her feet and began to pace, her anger growing with every word. “You know as well as I do that they all think I’m cursed. They’ll always treat me like I’m going to bring the wrath of the spirits on them, even though I work twice as hard as anyone. It wasn’t my fault, but everyone else is always going to act like it is.”
Zula looked up from her mending, black eyes piercing. “What wasn’t your fault? Your parents’ deaths?”
For a moment, Subira was quiet. “Yes,” she said at last, though she wasn’t sure how strongly she believed it, “though that isn’t what I meant.” She pulled her shirt down slightly at the collar, revealing a lurid scarlet pawmark that looked as sickly as any wound. The pad was as large as her hand; each claw was the length of her thumb. “This. My mark. My curse.”
Zula blinked in surprise. “How… how long have you carried that brand, Subira?”
“Since I was ten.” Subira’s voice was tight with pain and anger. “I stole a spear and snuck off to hunt, because I was a stupid child. I stalked through the woodlands in search of herds. Instead, I found a great cat, with blunt white horns and a tail like the branch of a powerful tree.”
“The Abundant One,” breathed Zula, “Landorus.”
There was no reverence in Subira’s voice. “Yes. Landorus. I didn’t recognize him, though; it wasn’t until later that I realized what - realized who - I was seeing.” Subira paused, closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts. “The cat turned toward me, and his yellow eyes burned. I was afraid he would attack me, so in a panic, I fired an arrow. It hit him square on the flank; a blow that would have killed an ordinary cat merely drew a pinprick of blood. He advanced, and I fired again, not knowing what else to do. I never saw where the second arrow struck.”
Subira's voice was quiet, bitter with painful memories. “I was knocked off my feet, with blood-red claws digging into my shoulder. There was pain like fire; I screamed, and he leapt away.” She turned, staring challengingly into Zula’s eyes. “Ever since that day, I’ve known nothing but hostility from Pokemon. Even the most peaceful species attempt to kill me on sight. Even when I'm with a pair of other hunters." Subira's voice choked with emotion; she forced the last words out through sheer anger. "All because I attempted to protect myself from an unknown predator.”
Zula’s expression was one of abject horror. “You tried to kill, not just one of the great spirits, but the greatest spirit. You drew blood from Landorus. I’m amazed he didn’t kill you on the spot.”
“Living with this curse hasn’t been much better,” snorted Subira.
The attempt at wry levity was wasted on the priest. “Subira, if the tribe were to find out about this, they’d cast you out at best.” Zula’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I shouldn’t do it myself.”
Zula might as well have kicked Subira in the gut. “You’re serious.”
“You’ve been cursed by Landorus, and you hid your sin for years,” said Zula. The shock was draining out of her voice, replaced by stony coldness. “The fact that his mark is still there means that his wrath is still upon you. You bring danger, shame, to our tribe with your mark.”
“I was ten summers old!” Subira shot back, her heart thundering with fear and rage. The one person in the whole tribe who she’d expected to at least try to listen to her was shutting her down, shutting her out. “I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was attacking. I saw a strange, dangerous Pokemon and thought it might hurt me. Why am I still being punished for that?”
Zula’s voice was sad, but she had no trace of hesitation. “I don’t know. But I do know that you are, and that the Abundant One knows best…” she looked up at Subira. “I hate to say this, young one, but… you should leave.”
Subira gaped for a moment at the priest, trembling in every limb, and took a shaky step back. A look of regret clouded Zula’s face, and she seemed like she was about to say something more, but Subira heard none of it. What felt like the whole tribe’s eyes fell upon her as she ran without stopping, seeking somewhere, anywhere she could go without countless stares burning into her, blaming her for a half-mistake she’d made as a small child, heaping fault upon her shoulders for every misfortune that had fallen upon her ever since Landorus had given her that wretched mark.
-
Folami heard the human before she saw it.
For a moment, the Archen was afraid that she’d somehow stumbled into the human camp, so loud was the sound of feet trampling on the forest floor. However, she quickly saw that there was only one human - a young human, with the familiar, glowing red mark burning through the pelts it wore.
Interest sparked Folami from talons to tail-tip. She hurried to follow, wondering why the human was running so fast. She could discern no specific cause; all she could tell was that the human was in some sort of distress. Weird. Humans didn’t usually get this upset unless something was trying to kill them.
“Wark!”
Folami had been so caught up in matching the human’s frantic pace that she’d been lax about paying attention to the trees ahead of her. The branch she’d latched onto was too thin to support her; with a snap and a thump, she tumbled to the ground, her head smacking against the dirt.
Exactly how tall the human was struck Folami for the first time. She realized that the human was still dressed for the hunt, like it had been earlier - the pelts it wore were furless, brown, and stiff, and its handheld claw and spike shooter were still at its sides. The red mark triggered some instinct of Folami’s, something deep and dark and buried by time; the fear she was feeling seemed to grow louder every second she looked at it, and that fear bred an ugly anger.
Then Folami forced herself to look up, away, at the human’s face. She was in no way adept at reading human postures, but its eyes were wide, water streamed down its face, and its arms were spread rather than reaching for its weapons.
It’s afraid, Folami realized.
When Folami struggled to get up, the human’s hand rushed to its weapons. Folami let out a squeak of alarm and stopped dead, head and tail lowered. This seemed to appease the human, who removed its hand from its weapon and murmured something in the strange tongue of its kind. As Folami scrambled back onto her talons, the human watched her warily, but it showed no sign of hostile intent. It simply observed.
There was a loud crash as something smashed down through the trees. “No!” Folami shrieked as Kofi, beak snapping, feathers ruffled so that he seemed to be twice his natural size, lunged at the human. The pair of them screamed as Kofi brought the human down to the ground, beak aimed at its throat, talons grasping at its vulnerable flesh.
“Kofi, stop!” When Kofi continued his attack, Folami threw herself into the fray, pecking at Kofi’s side. “Stop, stop, stop!”
Kofi’s head swung around in alarm, “Folami, I’m trying to save you from -”
“It didn’t do anything!” Folami screamed, attempting to pry Kofi’s talons out of the human’s pelt. “Even though Abena said it was bad, and you thought it was bad, it’s not bad! Could you just think about what you’re doing for once?”
Before Kofi could answer, the human caught him by the throat with one hand. It looked ready to dig its held-claw into his chest, but Folami lunged in first, biting its wrist until the weapon fell. Kofi landed on the ground and hissed at the human, who turned toward Folami, face twisted with rage -
Finish it, Folami’s instincts whispered as the human’s eyes shone red in the light of its cruel mark, finish it now -
- and fear. Even in the unfamiliar eyes of a human, Folami recognized terror, anguish. She let go, kicking off of the human’s arm. The fight was over. The human turned on one foot and ran, moving as fast as it could go.
“Folami,” panted Kofi, furiously preening dirt and undergrowth out of his feathers,, “do you have any idea what you’ve done? Landorus cursed that human himself, directly, and you just let it live?”
“Seriously!? Did you not see it? It was running away, it was terrified, it -” Folami broke off, choked by her irritation. “Part of being a hunter is only killing when you need to. You and Abena and everyone I’ve ever met has taught me that. I saw that human before you got here; it was scared, not hostile. I’m not going to kill it when it’s done nothing wrong.”
Kofi’s reply was a long time in coming. “Folami, think about what you’re saying. You attacked me to protect a human, you’re calling Landorus a liar…” he shook his head helplessly. He was a grown Archen, bigger than her, but in this moment he looked small and scared. “These aren’t words, actions, that you can take back. If the flock finds out…”
“Let them. When was the last time any of them cared what I had to say? Or treated me like anything but an idiot?” There was a part of her that couldn’t believe what she was saying, but the more she spoke, the more certain she felt of herself. “I might start a flock, or just go off on my own, but… I can’t stay, because I feel like I’m just being held down.”
Folami might as well have told him that she was going to fling herself into the jaws of a starving Liepard, for how his feathers fell. “You’ll die out there. Please, listen to sense for once - listen to someone else for once - and come home. We can forget this ever happened.”
“And would any of you ever listen to me for once? Would you listen to me?”
The silence was vast for something so crushing. “Goodbye, Kofi,” Folami said quietly. “Tell Abena that I said goodbye, too. I’d wish for the Abundant One to watch over you, but I’m not sure that I trust his justice anymore.” And before Kofi could stop her, before she could change her mind, Folami charged off into the undergrowth.
-
Fangs, red with blood, flashed in Subira’s mind. She ran as fast as she could, struggling to think of anything but the sight of the razor talons of an Archeops slicing at her mother, her father, or an Archen trying to shred her throat. But outcast as she was from her tribe, alone in the wild, cursed by the great spirit, what was there for her to take solace in? Tears streamed down her face; there was nothing to do but keep moving.
Not even the best hunter could run forever, though. Subira eventually came to a halt in an unfamiliar clearing and sat down heavily, her back against a tree. Her mind whirled with potential disasters that might befall her. How long would it be before the wild Pokemon found her and came to finish what Landorus had started, all of those years ago?
A small voice in the back of Subira’s mind reminded her that she might not be completely doomed. That little Archen… despite the fact that it was the same kind as the Pokemon that had killed her parents and had just tried to kill her, it had attacked its own kin, with no apparent goal other than preventing Subira from being eaten alive. Why would a Pokemon do such a thing? Subira racked her brain, but she couldn’t come up with an answer.
She was still thinking when the Archen entered the clearing. Subira blinked, staring down at the little feathery creature; it peeped at her, looking at her collarbone as if it could see her mark past her shirt. “What do you want?” Subira asked it, feeling a little bit silly about talking to a Pokemon. “I appreciate you helping me, but… why? Why would anyone do that?”
If the Archen had an answer, it didn’t give one. Instead, it simply began hopping toward Subira; it was cautious at first, pausing after every movement to gauge Subira’s reaction, but it became much bolder when it saw that she wasn’t going to harm it. Before long, it was within arm’s reach. Being so close to that familiar red beak made Subira’s stomach turn with old, intense fear and anger, but she didn’t attack. The great law passed down from hunter to hunter was to inflict no more harm than was necessary - and this Archen, unlike every other Pokemon that Subira had ever met, was not a threat.
“Is this how desperate I am, now? How far I’ve fallen?” The Archen tilted its head as Subira laughed. “I’m relying on the help of a Pokemon now… and an Archen, at that.” She stared the Archen right in the eye. There was a certain intelligence there, a reflection of understanding. “One of your kind killed my parents, did you know that? I saw it. I was there. And no matter what I said to Taonga, to Zula, to everyone…” Subira’s throat tightened. “It still feels like it was my fault. Because if I hadn’t been a fool and wandered off, I would never have met Landorus. I wouldn’t be cursed. I wouldn’t be a curse on everyone around me.” Subira lowered her face into her hands, tears running rivers down her cheeks. “And now they’ve cast me out for it.”
There was no way to know how much the Archen understood, but there was almost an edge of sympathy to the crooning sound it made. Subira jerked as she felt a warm, feathery body pressing up against her leg; a rock-hard beak tapped at her knee rhythmically, almost gently. With a trembling hand, she reached out. The Archen chirped with surprise at Subira’s touch.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Subira murmured. She kept her hand where it was for a moment; the Archen didn’t seem to mind, so she began slowly patting its head, hoping that it gave the Archen some comfort in exchange for the comfort it had given her. “I need to rest now. This has been the longest day of my life; I need a nap… Will you be here when I wake up?”
The Archen blinked slowly, peeped again, and tapped the side of its head against Subira’s knee. Its beak opened in something vaguely resembling a smile.
Subira sighed. “I don’t know why I expected an answer.” She then leaned back against the tree. It was uncomfortable, and she felt far too exposed with no hut, tent, or even a blanket to shield her from the elements. But she needed the rest. Her eyes closed, and she was asleep before she knew it.
-
Folami sighed as she watched the sleeping human. She could tell so easily that it was upset, and it had tried to communicate with her and she with it, but they each had their limits, limits that they could no more change than they could pluck the stars out of the night. Even Folami, with her mind as wide-open as the sky, had little faith in her ability to ever understand any human beings, let alone one as anomalous as this one.
But there would be no harm in trying. After all, the human had had plenty of chances to attack Folami, yet it hadn’t. It was no monster to be justly slain; it was just another living being, doing its best in a confusing world.
Like Folami. She stared up at the trees, whose thick canopies only let in a few dappled rays of sunlight. Had she made the right decision, breaking away from her flock? It felt right, but also wrong at the same time. It was a strange duality. Probably the sort of thing that it would take Folami a little while to deal with. Like a healing wound, but in the mind.
In the meantime, Folami had to live with the consequences of her actions. She knew that she couldn’t go back, but… she looked up at the human. It looked so peaceful while it was asleep, and the touch of its hand on Folami’s head had felt nice, like an allopreening. Was it possible to create a flock of friends, rather than kin and mates? Could that flock be made of creatures that weren’t Archen or Archeops?
Folami prided herself on constantly questioning, but just questioning wasn’t enough. In order to learn anything, she had to seek the answers to the questions. And there was only one way to try and answer this one.
Folami’s eyes half-closed as she dozed; an unknown span of time later, the human began to stir. Folami looked up at it to see the corners of its mouth lifting, water running down its face once more. Its unintelligible chirps were thick with emotion. Folami could have sworn she caught traces of joy in its babble.
The human stood, and reached out one arm down to Folami. For a moment, Folami was confused, but then she realized - if she stood upon the human’s arm, it would be like roosting on a tree branch. Only this would be a moving tree. “Sure!” Folami hopped up, her talons biting into the hard pelt the human wore. It seemed surprised by her weight, but it was strong, and it didn't let her fall. Holding Folami high, it began to move; Folami couldn’t help but shiver with excitement. She was doing things no Archen or Archeops, maybe even no Pokemon, had ever dared to do before.
The clearing was empty. Two outcasts had entered it, and two outcasts had left; they had been alone when they had come, but they were alone no longer.
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Originally Posted by Elrond
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